After I Fall (Immortal Billionaires #1) - Melissa Sercia Page 0,2

my shampoo. I hesitated and considered checking out Piper’s bathroom for some. She did say to make myself at home. And I would replace what I used.

I crept into Piper’s master suite like a little kid snooping through their parent’s bedroom. Even though she didn’t say to stay out of her room, I still felt guilty traipsing through her private space. But whatever. I needed to wash my hair so I didn’t look like I just crawled out of a forest.

Her room was even more luxurious than mine if that was even possible. In the center of the room sat a large four poster bed that looked like something out of a medieval castle. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted wrist restraints, hanging off the headboard. Hmm, kinky Piper.

I felt my cheeks flush even though no one was in the room to judge me. I jerked my head away and headed straight for her bathroom. I let out a gasp at the sight of it. Next to an enormous jetted jacuzzi tub, was an equally large shower complete with a love seat and two shower heads—one on either side. Who needs two shower heads?

The minute I thought it, I wanted to take it back. Someone who actually has someone to shower with, of course. I was so naïve sometimes. Alex and I never took showers together. We barely had sex with the lights on. A faint pressure started to press on my brow. Ugh, not again. Just the mere thought of him sent my body into mass anxiety and distress. I needed to get the shampoo and get out of there.

I spotted a sleek bottle, snatched it up, and sprinted out of there, closing the door behind me so I wouldn’t be tempted to wander back in. After a long hot shower, makeup, and blow out, I put on my best “interview” outfit and gave myself another once over in the mirror. And I wanted to cringe. In a small town, I turned heads, but after seeing Piper and her designer clothes and perfectly manicured nails, I had a feeling that wasn’t going to be the case here. Looking at my drab gray pantsuit and white polyester blouse made me want to jump back on that bus and run home to Maplewood. Who was I kidding out here?

But going back would just prove everyone right. That I couldn’t cut it in the real world. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life winning chili cookoffs and baking pot pies for the county fair. I wanted more for myself. So I needed to suck it up, hit the pavement, and find a job.

My dream was to become a chef, but with no experience, I’d have to apply as a server first to get my foot in the door. I had waited on plenty of tables back home and my summer in Italy had taught me everything I knew about wine. So I grabbed a stack of my resumes, thin as they were, and made a bee line for the door before I talked myself out of it for real.

It took me forever to hail a cab until I realized I needed to actually stand in the middle of the street to flag one down. I wasn’t even going to begin to figure out the subway system on my first day in the city. I gave the driver a mid-town Manhattan address—a swanky industrial restaurant that was the first to pop up on my search engine—and held on for dear life as the taxi charged through the city streets like a race car driver. It was a good thing I hadn’t eaten breakfast because it would have likely been coming back up. I fought waves of nausea as he hit the gas, then slammed on the breaks, over and over again like a game of bumper cars.

It took me a minute to catch my breath and quell the dizziness once I was safely on the sidewalk. The crisp Autumn air did wonders for that. I pulled out one of my resumes and tugged hard on the heavy glass door leading into the restaurant.

Jazz music pumped through the speakers so loudly, I wondered how any of the diners could even have a conversation. The dining room was minimalistic with monochrome fixtures and black tablecloths. While the svelte model looking hostess was on the phone, eyeing me like I was a criminal, I scanned through the menu. It was