The Best Mate He Trusted Wanted Me More Chapter 03

The Best Mate He Trusted Wanted Me More Chapter 03

The reader feed was losing it.

“Satisfying.”

“I thought Mayfair princes were better at taking pain. Guess this one isn’t that tough.”

Rowan was hopeless.

He watched tutorials all morning and still fumbled with the nail tips.

He started off glaring at me and muttering insults.

By the end, he was frantically helping me hold my hands under the UV lamp.

Looking at ten fingers that were each ugly in their own unique way, he went red in the face.

“You told me to do this. If it looks bad, that’s not my fault.”

I pulled my hands back and gave a half-hearted nod.

“Not bad for a first try. Better than what I did at seventeen.”

I smirked.

“My first client almost cried.”

He seemed caught off guard by the compliment, and even more surprised by what came after.

He was quiet for a moment.

“Why were you working at seventeen?”

I didn’t answer.

He stared at me for a long time, then ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Should I just take it all off and start over? I’ll probably do better the second time.”

The reader feed was in hysterics.

“What is he even imagining? Clara did nails at seventeen because she helped her mom run the Chelsea salon. Her first client was her aunt. Does Rowan think she was too broke for school?”

“He seems like the type who wakes up at 3 a.m., remembers something he said wrong, and mentally kicks himself.”

I couldn’t be bothered to explain. I kicked off my slippers and put my feet up on the chair next to him.

“Forget it. Keep going.”

Rowan’s eyes went wide. His face flushed from his ears all the way down his neck.

“You can’t just put your feet in someone’s face like that!”

The reader feed was cracking up.

“A Victorian peacock?”

“I thought with a face like that, Rowan would have experience. But he’s blushing like a scandalized Victorian just from looking at feet.”

I shot him a look of pure disgust.

“What are you, Victorian?”

He clearly didn’t like feeling judged. He stood there in silence, his expression sour.

“I can’t touch my best friend’s girlfriend. I’ll find someone else to do it for you.”

He winced again.

I watched him, amused.

“You touched my hands for hours. What’s the difference?”

His face went even redder, this time from anger.

“That’s different!”

But the pain got to him, and he finally sat back down and kept working.

My phone buzzed. I realized it was already afternoon.

Normally, I’d text Julian around noon to ask what he wanted for lunch or if I should bring him something.

Today, Rowan’s nail work had taken so long that I hadn’t eaten, and I’d completely forgotten.

“Julian’s calling. Maybe keep the teeth-grinding down.”

I nudged him with my foot.

He got even redder.

I answered. There was a pause on the other end before Julian spoke.

“Did you have lunch?”

I yawned.

“Not yet. Just woke up. What about you? What’d you eat?”

There was a clear exhale of relief.

“I’ll send the housekeeper over.”

I glanced at Rowan, still crouched by my feet with the nail file, and declined.

“I’ll go out later. No need.”

We talked for another minute before hanging up.

Rowan’s voice exploded the second I put the phone down.

“So this is what you do behind Julian’s back? I knew my instincts were right. You’re bad news.”