The Billionaire And The Waitress (gxg)

21 - a city

MUSE'S love of New York City was nothing compared to Adrien's love of the women in it. 

    The math―the terrible, awful math―added up. Of course it added up. Two or three nights a week, a different woman each night, and Adrien was twenty-eight years old. The math made sense. 

    Muse set down the list of names. They'd chosen to sit in the Moth Cafe, tucked into the corner. By no means was the day slow, but Phoebe and Agnes kept taking turns bringing them batches of macaroons. The flavours were anything from matcha to brown rice. "You're our designated taste-testers," Phoebe had said. 

    Muse thought it was just an excuse to eavesdrop on their conversation. 

    "This . . . it really is half the female population of New York. Is there any gay woman you haven't fucked?"

    Adrien, so close to Muse on the couch their legs were brushing, heat radiating between them, looked at Muse. And kept looking. 

    Heat simmered under Muse's skin. She felt herself blushing, hard. 

    Because, if there was only one woman in the city Adrien hadn't fucked yet, it was her own fiancee.

    And Muse wasn't entirely opposed.

    Even if she'd said they should keep it purely professional. Images of Adrien's mouth, raw and red in the church bathroom, rose to mind. Muse shoved away the memory of Adrien's hands, riding up the hem of her silk dress. The whimpering noises.

    A cough interrupted the staring. Muse nearly jumped out of her skin. It was Phoebe―back with a platter of gold macaroons.  "They're pineapple. Oh, are you done with your tea?"

    Muse nodded, eyes still on Adrien. She barely noticed as Phoebe lifted the cup and squinted into it with one eye. 

    "Ah. Makes sense. Your Gemini Moon isn't aligning with the other―"

    "Phoebe!"

    Agnes, from across the room, had honed in on Phoebe's tea leaf reading. 

    Phoebe winced and lowered the cup. "Sorry, dear." To Adrien and Muse, she said, "She's a skeptic, you know. Doesn't like me reading customers' futures without asking."

    Muse smiled. Secretly, she couldn't help thinking it was sort of a romantic pairing. Phoebe, loving tarot cards and palm readings and tea leaves and all things spiritual, while Agnes remained firmly grounded on earth.

    "Well, I don't mind. What do my tea leaves say?"

    Phoebe peered once more into the cup. "Two things," she said, spinning it in her hand so she could see all angles. "One: a big change in your future. Nothing will ever be the same again."

    "Good or bad?" Adrien asked, glancing sideways at Muse.

    Phoebe paused, humming a little. "Could be either."

    Did that mean the marriage? The arrangement? The whole contract? No―it couldn't be. Because the marriage would be over after a few months, once Julien died, and surely Muse's life would go back to normal.

    "Two," Phoebe continued. "There's something here. A cloud, or a shadow." She looked up, eyes misted. "Do you have a secret? Something you don't want anyone knowing?"

    Muse didn't move. Didn't breathe. Mutely, she shook her head―fully aware she was lying.

    Phoebe frowned and spun the cup again. "Someone will twist this secret. Use it against you. Threaten you."