Ella's Easter Eggs (BBW & Billionaire) (8 page)

As my mind raced a million miles a minute, I desperately tried to control my anger. Dash had obviously told Ronna his plans -- they were still going strong. My palms felt clammy and my adrenaline raced. I'd had my heart broken too many times to be dealing with crap again. It just wasn't fair. How was I going to compete with some supermodel chick?!

I wanted to tell Dash to go screw himself as soon as he got out of the shower. I wanted to throw his stupid, heavy, ridiculous phone at him. But there was one small problem.

He was my new boss. And I needed my new gig. Desperately.

So I did what any sane girl would do. Well, what any sane, scared girl would do. I decided to break it off with him first. But gently, so that he wouldn't be angry enough to fire me.

The problem was that my dress -- the black corset dress I'd been wearing the prior evening -- was on the floor somewhere. How do you dump someone when you're practically naked? I decided that I wouldn't let this stop me. Then Dash came out of the bathroom, a white towel wrapped around his gorgeous body. I covered myself up with the sheet and decided to have the talk with him then.

"Hey, Dash..." I started.

His smile was like sunshine. Too bad, I reasoned. Maybe he shouldn't screw supermodels.

"You woke up!"

"Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about something. Do you think it's a good idea for us to be seeing each other while I'm the brand ambassador? You know, mixing business with pleasure and all that?"

His smile began to fade quickly.

"What do you mean? Are you having second thoughts, Ella?"

"Um, it's not that I don't find you charming and impossibly sexy -- trust me, I do --I just don't know if it's the best idea for us to pursue this while we're working together."

"Huh." He looked shocked, his green eyes seeming to get darker for a split second. "Well, if you feel that way, then I certainly don't want to pressure you into anything. It's just...I thought we were having fun..."

"We were!" I smiled a little too big. "I'm just thinking of the ramifications, for me, you know...I don't want this to get awkward."

"Because clearly it's not awkward now," he barked, turning around to head to his closet.

I couldn't believe him. The nerve! He was supposed to be gracious about this, not immature and evil.

"I'll just get my dress then," I muttered, catapulting out of the bed and scanning the floor for my dress.

Aha! I quickly scooped it up and hopped right into it, attempting to lace up the front.

Dash, who was dressed in just business pants by this point, walked over and came to my rescue. He grabbed the top with his strong hands, lacing it up quickly with his nimble fingers. Against my will, I still felt incredibly attracted to him. He looked gorgeous just out of the shower, the drops of water still in his copper hair.

"How did you do that?" I was amazed. Then suspicious. "Lots of experience?"

"The corset dress has been a staple of our design studio for years now," he said in a snotty tone. "It was retrofitted for the new line, but it's basically the same. I would be an idiot if I weren't at least somewhat familiar with it."

"Dash, I'm sorry if I..." I really didn't know what to say. He seemed so angry.

"It's fine," he muttered, stomping back to his closet and pulling out a button-down shirt. "I really have to get to this meeting. We'll see each other in New York. Debra will be in touch with all the arrangements."

"Okay," I said quietly. "I'll just go down to the cottage and get my stuff then."

"Cool," he shrugged. "See you later."

"Cool," I replied, stomping out of the bedroom. "I'll see you in New York."

CHAPTER ELEVEN

JETTING OUT

I'm not going to lie. Daniela's lap dance was routine was really good. But mine was getting better. After going to Stripper Class and receiving our first critiques on the dances (harsh!), we decided it was definitely time for a beer. And, obviously, I had to spill my guts about Dash.

"Well, you don't know what's going on with this Ronna chick for sure," Daniela said, sipping on a lager.

"You're the one who told me they were dating!" I exclaimed, taking a big swig of my Guinness.

"Yeah, but what do I know?" she pontificated. "You can't trust everything you read on the internet."

It was really aggravating. I had expected Daniela to back me up in my fury, to assure me that what I'd done was the right thing.

"Well, I think that if you have some internet evidence combined with text messages, it's a safe assumption."

"I dunno," she said, taking a closer look at me. "You really like him, don't you?"

"What?" I was aghast.

"You do this every time you like someone. Run away."

"Daniela!"

"It's true! Ella, you're one of my best friends, but sometimes you have to live a little, risk something. Why wouldn't you just ask him about it?"

"What, admit that I was snooping in his phone?"

"No," she lectured me. "You could have asked him in an adult way, 'Hey I know we just met so maybe you're dating a ton of people, but maybe you're not? Are you?' That's the only way you would've found out, Ella. Instead of doing that, you just ditched him, so he's understandably aggro about the whole thing."

"Understandably aggro, huh?"

"Yup," she said. "God, those french fries smell good. Do you want some?"

"Yes. Definitely. The fries here are insane."
 

She had a point. Daniela could be annoying, but her observations were not without merit. Maybe I had jumped the gun. After all, Dash wasn't beholden to me. We barely knew each other. Why was I freaking out so much?

After munching on the fries, which were topped with a sinfully exquisite truffle oil, Daniela and I paid our tab and left.

"Anyway, I'm really proud of you!" she said, giving me a hug outside the bar. "You managed to get this amazing gig, and Blaine's gonna eat his words when he sees your new ads come out!"

It was true, and Daniela was such a good friend to remind me of it. If nothing else, I'd managed to transform my financial situation -- and my dignity -- over a weekend. I would no longer have to worry about money, at least for a year or so. Surely that had to count for something.

"Oh, and let me give you my keys!" I grinned, fishing the extra set out of my purse.

Daniela would be cat-sitting for Ruby while I was away.

"Maybe you can convince them to fly you in a private jet next time, so you can take her with you!" Daniela joked. "Not that I don't love watching her!"

"They're flying me first class!" I replied. "That's already a huge upgrade for me."

The next few hours passed like a whirlwind -- I was packing like crazy. After all, people would expect a lot from a new brand ambassador. I packed lots of hair products and makeup, things I didn't even normally bring on a trip. There was no way I was going to mess up this job.

 
In the morning, the car service picked me up and whisked me away to LAX, where I was hanging out in the fancy airline lounge before my flight.

"Coffee?" the flirty gay male bartender asked me. "Or a Bloody Mary?" he winked.

"You, sir, are a man after my own heart," I smiled. "Bloody Mary it is!"

"You're that new model, aren't you?" he asked, as he mixed up my drink.

"Uh...what?"

"The new Dash De Maio girl! I saw something about you online. You're so gorgeous."

I was thunderstruck. I know that's probably not really a word, either, but this was how I felt upon my first meeting with a fan. Sure, I'd expected the job to bring me money, but not necessarily recognition. But clearly this wasn't the case. Not even forty-eight hours after my first event, and I had already been spotted.

"That's incredibly kind of you," I smiled. "Thanks."

After years of pounding the pavement in L.A., things were finally starting to turn around for me. And I'd been a total bitch to the man who had been responsible for my rise. I needed to call Dash. But then I realized that I didn't have his phone number. Of course. He'd been in such a rush after the Monday morning hook-up, and his office had coordinated everything for my trip. I had no way of getting in touch with him until we saw each other in New York.

And then my phone beeped...and my heart leapt. What if it was him?

I was somewhat surprised when I saw that the message was from a certain Carlo Catelli.

*Luscious! Just got in from a wild night out...missing you. Wishing you were here to wrap those long legs around me...when are you coming out here again?

His timing, as always, was impeccable. Carlo always had a very strong street sense -- I supposed he had to, in his line of work. It was as if he psychically knew I was coming.

Carlo Catelli would be the best way to make me forget my idiocy with Dash. I wrote back immediately.

*Funny you should ask. Be there in six hours. XOXO Luscious

I turned my phone off and tucked it away, giggling at how Carlo would react. And I wondered if I'd get a chance to see him while I was in the city. Nothing in the world would distract me more than a romp with New York's most notorious bachelor.

The thought of it made me take a big gulp of my Bloody Mary. I finished my drink, paid the bill, and made my way to the gate. It was such a treat to be flying first class. Now, I'm not a snob by any means. For a two-hour flight, I truly see no purpose in forking out extra cash for a first-class ticket. But a five-hour flight is an entirely different story. Settling into the comfortable first-class seat (with legroom!) I looked out the window.

It was a beautiful day in Los Angeles, one of those days that made me sad to leave. Especially after the pilot informed us that New York was dealing with what appeared to be the final snowstorm of the season. Luckily, I'd brought a coat. As I snuggled into my seat, tipsy from the Bloody Mary, I heard someone sit down next to me.

"Hey!" The familiar voice jarred me out of my mini-nap. "Barely made it!"

It was Debra, looking as fresh and professional as she could possibly be.

"Oh my God, I didn't know you were on my flight!"

"I wasn't supposed to be," she said, rolling her eyes. "Everyone else is taking the corporate jet this afternoon, but I have to get there early to take care of some stuff before the shoot."

"Ah. Hey, thanks again for hiring me, Debra." The words poured out from my heart.

I could already see that this job was going to change my entire life. And it meant more than I could fully express in words, but I wanted to at least try.

"Of course," she grinned, grabbing a couple flutes of champagne from the passing flight attendant and handing one to me. "But you should be thanking Dash. He's the one who came up with the idea."

"Right," I grimaced. "I'm afraid I might have accidentally been a little...uh...rude to him the other night. You know, all the stress from the event took a toll on me. Do you think he's okay? He's done so much for me, and I don't want to seem ungrateful."

"Oh, if he seemed testy, it's probably because of the whole Ronna situation," Debra groaned.

"Uh...the Ronna situation?"

"Ronna Jensen! That model."

The plane was amping up for take-off. I strained to hear Debra as we started to lumber down the runway.

"Oh yes, Ronna! I thought I'd seen in the news that they were dating?" I tried to play it off as casually as possible.

"Well," Debra said, looking around for a quick second. "Don't tell anyone I said this. He doesn't like to talk about it. They were dating last year, but then he broke up with her and ever since...she's been kind of stalking him. It's been a source of stress for everyone."

"Uh...really?" God, did I feel like the biggest idiot in the world.

"Yeah, she found out from Patrick Duvall that he'd be in the city this week and everything. He's pretty freaked out. I mean, personally, I don't think she'll do anything crazy, but you never know..."

"Right."

"So...now that I've had a few sips of champagne, can I ask you a personal question, Ella?"

"Sure." I immediately tensed up.
 

What could Debra possibly want to know about me? And then she hit me with this zinger:

"Is something going on between you and Dash?"

My palms immediately went clammy. How did she know?

"Uh..."

"It's okay if it is," she smiled. "He's one of the best guys I know. If I didn't have an amazing husband, I'd be all over that shit myself."

And then she grabbed her pillow and burrowed her head in it.

"Huh." It seemed like a bad time to ask for Dash's phone number, what with the stalking and all.

I stayed quiet as the huge jet took off into the beautiful blue California sky, rising above the ocean before making the turn back towards New York. It was going to be an interesting trip. That much was guaranteed.

CHAPTER TWELVE

LANDING

By the time we arrived in New York, it was already getting dark. My phone lit up with tons of text messages, which I checked on the way to the hotel. Some of them were congratulatory texts from friends in acting class, who were just getting the word about my big job.

And six of them were from Carlo, who expressed a ridiculous amount of excitement over my visit. We made plans to get dinner that evening. The rest of my trip would be completely filled up with shoots and PR opportunities for the line.

When I finally got to my luxurious, well-appointed hotel room, I was thrilled to see that a box full of various outfits and lingerie from the collection had already arrived.

"Perfect timing!" I jumped in the air and did a fist pump.

There was no one who appreciated good lingerie more than Carlo. I slid into a beautiful, sleek black set with matching pantyhose and a garter belt.

"He is gonna lose his damn mind," I said to my reflection in the mirror, as I threw a little black dress over the ensemble and stepped into some heels.

Then I did some simple makeup and let my hair down, using the curler to create soft, beachy waves. Completing the look with my favorite necklace, a heavy gold locket that was an heirloom from my grandmother, I was really happy with the look I'd created.