The Taming of the Billionaire (Page 3)

Igor, Gretchen’s hairless sphinx cat, looked good, and Edie smiled. He’d been a rescue that Gretchen had taken on a few years ago because Edie already had too many cats, and at the time he’d been skinny and miserable, with a nasty skin infection. Now he was sassy and fat, and as Gretchen held him in her arms and rubbed his wrinkly head, Edie felt a happy pang of seeing a happy cat with a loving owner. She’d put the two together.

“Can I pet him?” she asked as Bianca wandered past, admiring the room.

“Of course,” Gretchen said, “But I’m not sure that he likes strangers, and he hasn’t seen you in years. I know he’s still getting used to Hunter.”

Edie reached out and held her fingers close enough for Igor to sniff. The cat gave them a cursory whiff, then hissed and batted Edie’s hand away with his claws.

Gretchen hauled him away from Edie with a wince. “Yeah, he’s not Mister Friendly.”

“It’s okay,” Edie said with a laugh, wincing at the scratches the cat had left. “He probably smells my cats on me and that’s making him anxious.” She put her fingers to her mouth and sucked on the welts.

“I’m so sorry—”

“I’ve had worse in my line of work. No big deal.” Edie gave her a grin to ease her fears. “It’s a perfectly normal reaction to strange-smelling people invading his space. I’d love to see you and Hunter interacting with him, though. Maybe I could—”

“No,” Gretchen said, depositing the cat back on the bed. “You’re not here to analyze us, Edie. You’re here as a guest. And speaking of, we should probably get back to them. Hunter’s going to wonder where we ran off to.” She smiled, her face softening at the mention of her fiancé.

They left the room and Edie continued to suck on her fingers as Gretchen chatted on about the different wings of the house and the days the cleaning crew came by. Bianca’s big eyes were wide as she drank it all in (no doubt storing information for later use) and Edie was content to let them talk. Her knee was aching something fierce at this point. Four hours in the car in a bent position wasn’t good for it, and now walking around was making it worse. She needed a nice long soak and some Tiger Balm, but the night had barely started. This was why she wasn’t fun at parties.

“Here,” Gretchen said as they turned a corner. “We’re in the red dining room. It’s just down this way. I—”

“Actually,” Edie said, interrupting. She held up her bleeding fingers. “Can I run to the restroom and grab some Band-Aids? I’ll catch up with you guys.” It’d give her a chance to rest her knee before going in and enduring the rest of the evening.

“You want me to go get it for you?” Gretchen asked. “I don’t mind—”

“Oh, no, I can do it,” Edie said quickly, already hurrying down the hall. “I’ll just run to the restroom and catch up with you and Bianca.”

“Go to the kitchen all the way down the hall,” Gretchen called after her. “I keep the Band-Aids in there.”

Edie gave her a thumbs-up as she walked, footsteps determined, down the long hall. She didn’t glance backward until she heard Bianca’s and Gretchen’s voices recede. After a few more moments, she looked backward and sure enough, she was alone. Whew. She sat down on a settee against the wall and rubbed her knee, trying to ease the ache that throbbed under the scar tissue. Stupid knee. Stupid body that had to fail on her.

Her fingers were no longer bleeding after a few minutes, but since she’d bailed for a Band-Aid, she might as well find one. Hauling herself back to her feet, she headed back down the hall again, looking for a door that might lead to a kitchen. One door at the end of the hall looked promising as it had no handle, but instead, swung on its hinge. That seemed like a kitchen door. Edie limped toward it.

And then paused.

There were voices coming from inside. Masculine voices.

“So . . . what about Daphne?” one voice said.

Edie heard the sound of what sounded like a bottle being opened, and then a pause. “Daphne’s not in the wedding.”

“No?” the first man said. “Damn. I wanted to meet her. She’s hot.”

“She’s a fucking mess,” said the other. “Rehab. Gretchen’s leaving her alone for now.”

“Well then, what about the other bridesmaids?”

A third voice came in, a deep baritone that was instantly recognizable. “Is pussy all you think about, Asher?”

“Why you blaming me? Levi here started it.”

“Everyone knows brides pick hot chicks for the wedding party.” That one was the one named Levi.

“Yeah, but you haven’t met Gretchen, have you?” said the one she guessed must be Asher.

“No, why?” said Levi. “She insecure?”

“She’s weird,” said that abrupt baritone voice. “He’s trying to say her friends are probably fucking weird, too.”

“Oh no,” Levi groaned. “Seriously?”

“Probably cat ladies or some shit,” said the baritone voice again. “Cat ladies and astrologists. So your dick is just gonna have to wait for some other opportunity.”

The other two voices laughed, and Edie brimmed with rage at the men. How dare they? From what Gretchen had told her, she and Hunter were insanely happy. And Gretchen was just picking her friends to be in the wedding with her, like any joyous bride-to-be. Did it matter if they were weird?

Most of all, though, she resented that fucking cat-lady remark made by the guy with the baritone voice. Because fuck him. Just because girls happened to like cats didn’t mean they were hideous unlovable creatures. He was probably an ugly slob himself. Her nostrils flared with anger.