Complete Me (The Stark Trilogy)

she wants to work for free, then more power to her, but she continues before I have the chance to speak.
    “The truth is that I can’t afford to make ends meet with just the gallery. I know that Damien and Evelyn aren’t gossiping about me, but at the same time, people talk, so I’m sure you’ve heard that my divorce is not, well, pleasant.”
    She pauses, and I smile and murmur the appropriate condolences.
    “Be careful of men,” she says darkly. “Fuck them, but don’t trust them. Not any of them.” She looks hard at me. “That’s a lesson I should have learned before I married Bruce. It sure as hell applied to the men in my life back then. All of them,” she adds.
    “I couldn’t live like that,” I say coldly. I’m not sure if she’s trying to be a bitch or do the girl-bonding thing, but I don’t care.I don’t want to think about the fact that she dated Damien, much less discuss it. And I sure as hell don’t want to hear about why I shouldn’t trust him.
    She exhales and slouches a bit so that she no longer looks like one of LA’s beautiful people but like a harried commuter. “Sorry. I’m too bitter by half. The point is that I need to increase my cash flow, and so I’m ramping up my design work again. And I could use this—doing your office, I mean. I don’t want to be crude, but having Damien Stark’s girlfriend on my client list isn’t going to hurt my business.”
    Strangely, that makes me feel better. I don’t particularly want to be friends with Giselle, and I’m relieved to realize that she isn’t looking to be besties with me, either. Business is different, though, and if she wants to bling out my office so she can promote her talent, then as far as I’m concerned that’s a win-win. Especially if she can do most of the work when I’m not actually in the office.
    “All right,” I say. “I guess we have a deal.”
    “Fabulous.” Her bright smile has returned, banishing the look of defeat. “I’ll pull some material together and give you a call. In the meantime,” she adds as she rises to her feet, “be sure and give Damien a kiss for me.”
    She sweeps out of my office, and I watch her go, bemused. After a moment, I shrug it off. If she’s playing games, I’m not going to get drawn in. And if I’m imagining things—well, then I really need to get over it.
    I spend another hour making notes for Blaine’s app, but then I can’t take it anymore. The sun is setting outside my window, and I still haven’t heard from Damien. I try his office, but Sylvia tells me that he’s still in meetings. “It’s been a crazy day,” she says. “Since he just got back, everyone wanted a piece of his time.”
    I can’t help but smile. I understand the feeling.
    “He should be done soon, though,” she says. “Shall I have him call you?”
    I tell her not to bother, and then switch over to my messaging app to send him a text. To the CEO of Stark International from the CEO of Fairchild Development: Regarding my previous request for an appointment, does this evening fit on your calendar?
    I don’t expect a quick reply and am surprised when my phone
pings
almost immediately. I think I can squeeze you in.
    I practically trip over my fingers typing the reply. I’ll be right over.
    No. I will. I have plans for your new office.…
    I smile in anticipation and wonder how I’ll survive the time between now and when he arrives.
    Since I can’t concentrate on work with the prospect of Damien’s pending arrival hanging over my head, I abandon Evelyn’s art app in favor of going through my emails and clearing them out. I make the mistake of opening the one my mother sent while I was in Munich. The one that tells me that I really should work on my personal skills, because ignoring her calls and emails is simply rude and not the way she raised me. I see that your current fling got away with murder , she writes. Hopefully that means you’ll quit playing Florence Nightingale to his troubles. It’s simply a waste of time, and there are any number of men who are equally as eligible. Honestly, Nichole, once you pass the ten-million-dollar mark, one man is essentially the same as any other. Think about what I’ve said. And call me. Kisses, Mother
    I want to delete it. Right at that moment, actually, I want to delete it even more than I want to breathe. I don’t want that woman in my head. She may not have ever taken a knife to my flesh, but I know without any doubt that she bears