“Oh, you’d better. He personalized yours.” She winks, and I turn the invitation to once again see his handwriting with the message:
I expect my little bit to come. C
Whoa, my ovaries just exploded a little, and I’m not even sure he phrased it like that on purpose.
Naturally, I cannot stop looking at the invitation during the week, and Sara and I spend a whole two hours one evening speculating on whether—or not—the word “come” had a double meaning.
“I’m telling you he has a girlfriend,” I say.
Sara says, “Well, they’ve been mysteriously off the social pages for a while, and she appeared alone at an event last weekend.”
She pulls out an image of Miranda and her father at an event, no Christos.
“That doesn’t mean anything,” I say. “I’m still taking Jensen. I really don’t feel like seeing his blonde at his side, rubbing his chest, calling him darling,” I admit, feeling nauseous.
“You want to be the one doing it,” Sara jests.
“No!” I say.
“Really?” she taunts me.
I don’t know what to tell her—there’s no reason for me to be jealous over Christos. It’s not as if I truly believe I’m his type, well, at least not anymore, and I’ve lost too many loved ones to risk my heart—especially with the one guy I’ve always been afraid could have the power to crush it.
That evening, I take the subway with Jensen and then walk a few blocks to the event. “You look hot, woman. Relax.”
“Stop telling me to relax,” I whisper.
“Why?”
“Because it reminds me I’m nervous and I’m trying hard to pretend I’m not,” I hiss.
We walk into the black granite lobby to an orchestra playing classical music. There are round tables with pristine white linens and silver settings, and buffet tables with beautiful floral arrangements.
I spot Yael and introduce him to Jensen while I head over to do two things: check my makeup for the fifth time tonight and grab something to drink.
Outside the ladies’ bathroom, in the hall, I spot Miranda with a brunette talking in hushed tones, oblivious to my presence.
“Wells told me he’s got the ring, and I think he’ll propose soon. Tonight.”
“He won’t. It’s over,” Miranda says.
“What? Why? When?”
“Two weeks ago,” she huffs angrily. “I didn’t tell you because I was sure he’d come to his senses.”
“He will. He has to. You two make sense. He’s usually so levelheaded.”
“It’s that little tramp from his past! Waving her tiny natural tits at him! I’m telling you, since she appeared, he’s been different. It’s like he no longer cares about business.”
He cares about mine, I want to contradict. And I’m not a tramp waving my tits!
She seems to sense me and turns.
“I’d like to use the ladies’, if you don’t mind,” I say, as calmly as possible, pointing at the door.
She looks down her nose at me and brushes past. “If you think you can keep the interest of a man as worldly as Christos…” she warns.
I swallow and head into the ladies’, shut and lock the door, and then stare down at the sink, completely forgetting why I’m here.
They broke up. Two weeks ago?
When was it?!
Before he kissed me…
Before…or maybe after…the night he walked me home, when I was drunk out of my mind?
I can’t breathe right. I try to tell myself that it doesn’t matter. It’s not like we’re going to get involved in anything.
Are we?
By the time I head out, the room is more crowded than when I arrived, and as I scan the crowd for Jensen—I see him. Aaric.
Looking straight at me.
My knees wobble. The possessiveness in his stare makes me think that this man hasn’t forgotten the night I spent at his place either.
There’s a tightening between my legs, an uncomfortable feeling. I squirm and shift to get away from his stare.
“He’s Aaric Christos.”
“Hmm.”
Jensen is at my side, amused. “The guy you’re staring at—hell, the guy staring at you. He clearly means to have you in his bed sooner than you can say Aaric!”
“Hush. It’s not like that.” I laugh, moving away.
“Well…he definitely wants it to be like that. He seems to dig you very much.” He forces me to turn, and he’s still with a group of men—and he’s still looking at me with those penetrating eyes that are basically stripping me of every scrap of clothing I’m wearing.
He’s smiling this time. Though I’m not sure you could consider that a smile, not even a smirk, it’s too subtle for that. Just a slight curving at one corner of his lips—as if he’s already doing things to me in his mind.
There’s a silence as he approaches, and for a second all I can hear is the roaring sound the harsh pounding of my heart is making in my eardrums.
I turn to leave, determined not to make a fool of myself in front of his snotty ex-girlfriend.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you leave just yet.”
I raise my brows, as he looks at Jensen with a nod of greeting, then reaches out to place his hand on my shoulder.
“You just stand there and take up the entire room,” he says, close to my ear.
“That’s in your mind.”
“My mind is my whole world.”
“Christos.” I flush heatedly.
He shoots me a devil’s look, and quivering, I edge free and meet his gaze. “I’m not sure I’m welcome here. I’m pretty sure your girlfriend would like to have me shot. I should—”
“You’re not leaving.”
“I am.”
He frowns, glancing at the windows, starting to get wet with rain. “It’s pouring outside, bit.”
“So?”
“So that’s not the kind of wet I wanted to get you,” he says with a smirk.
He slides his hand to the small of my back and draws me into the crowd, and I’m rethinking this whole night. “Mingle for a while. I’ll find you later tonight. Take you home.”
I gulp and nod, confused about what I just learned. Jensen leans into my ear. “Aaric Christos told you he’d find you. Girl, there’ll be no place to hide.”
“Jensen!”
Aaric is across the room, yet it’s a constant struggle to ignore his large, strong hands resting at his sides. My body quivers with wanting to feel them on my skin.
I think of the way we curled together and my blood boils in my veins.
Yael asks me about House of Sass and I try to keep up with the conversation, but Aaric is staring at me.
“I’m interested in working with you,” I say. “I respect the fact that you need to get…well, a little…” I give him a look. “To reach your creative nirvana.”
He laughs. “I like this girl!” he tells Jensen, and Jensen says, “I like her too.”
“Jensen, really.” I shoot him a look, then decide I’ve been here long enough.
I don’t want to be rude to Christos, so I approach his group to say my goodbye, aware of him watching every step I take in his direction.
“I’m leaving.”
“I’ll take you home.”
I start saying no. It’s raining. We’ll be getting wet.
“We can talk business,” he says. His lips curving.
And I say, yes.
“I ended it before last weekend.”
We’re riding in the back of his car, toward his place. I hold my breath at his words.
“Before we were even in the socials section. She hasn’t spread the word out, thinking it’s salvageable,” he adds.
“Why. Why did you break up?”
“Because you changed everything.”
“We can’t…I’ve been misleading you. It’s not possible. We’re in business.”
“You want me.”
“I…”
His eyes twinkle. “It’s okay. I want you too.”