Page 73 of The Money Shot
“No, I don’t.”
He grunted, shaking his head as if I were a particularly dense student. “Russians often wonder why we are born under a blue sky but die in a dark forest. Do you understand?”
Not even a little. But I nodded anyway.
Dimitri leaned forward slightly, his thick Russian accent making each word sound like it weighed a thousand pounds. “True love, Jack. It is like a clear, blue sky. Bright, open. But if you do not nurture it, love will slip away into the dark forest.”
“Okay,” I breathed.
He nodded, satisfied with my noncommittal response. Then, as I moved toward the elevator again, he called after me.
“Once you find true love, never let it go.”
My steps faltered. For a second, I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. All I could think about was Liam.
Was Dimitri right? And how the hell did he know, or, well, suspect what was happening between us?
The doors to the elevator opened, and I stepped inside. Once the doors shut, I stared at my reflection in the mirrored walls and whispered,
“Am I seriously falling for my best friend?”
I got on the elevator and pressed the button for the tenth floor. On the entire ride up, I couldn’t get what Dimitri said out of my head. Aside from the strange Russian saying about blue skies and forests, maybe the old man had a point. Was love staring me right in the face and I couldn’t admit to my feelings for Liam? At least that’s what I got out of his strange words.
The elevator doors slid open on my floor, and I immediately heard women laughing. By the time I reached my door, it was obvious—whoever was in there was having way too much fun. I froze, my hand on the doorknob, listening to another burst of cackling. What the hell?
I pushed the door open, my mind already racing. And there they were, sprawled on the couch like they owned the place: Nessa, sipping what looked like my Diet Coke, and a woman I’d never seen before with a teased-up hairdo that could survive a hurricane. Both of them were sharing a laptop perched on the strange woman’s lap.
“Nessa,” I started, tossing my bag onto the nearest chair. “What are you doing here? And—” I waved at the woman with the hair. “Who’s this?”
Nessa didn’t even look up. “This,” she said, motioning toward her companion, “is Moira. Moira, this is Jack.”
Moira glanced up, her heavily mascaraed lashes fluttering as she gave me a toothy smile. “Charmed.”
“Okay.” I tried again, glancing around the room for Liam. “Where’s Liam? And seriously, what are you two doing?“
Nessa raised her head, wearing an expression of pure delight. “Liam has a surprise for you,” she said, her tone dripping with mischief. “Oh, and Moira’s working.”
Before I could ask what kind of surprise, Moira threw her head back and screamed with laughter, slapping the couch like she was at a comedy club. Then she hunched over the laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard.
I stepped closer, my patience running out. “What are you doing?” I leaned over the back of the couch, peering at the screen. My stomach dropped.
Oh. My. God.
It was a dick pic. An enormous one. And judging by the string of messages filling the chat, the guy it belonged to wasn’t shy about his intentions.
“According to this gentleman,” Moira said, barely suppressing her giggles, “he wants to break Drake open and shove his fat cock inside of him.” She punctuated the statement with a straight face, then burst into another fit of laughter.
My butt cheeks clenched.
Nessa doubled over, wheezing. “Jack, you’ve got an admirer!”
“Why are you two—” I motioned vaguely at the laptop, my words stuck somewhere between disbelief and rage. “What the hell are you doing?”
Moira grinned, unbothered. “I’m your new part-time assistant.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“For FantasyFans,” she added, like that cleared everything up. “Liam hired me to respond to all of your messages. It’s only for ten hours a week, but I really need the cash. The salon doesn’t give me enough hours.”