Jeremy Weston in a tuxedo is better than I imagined.
I yank open the door to Calvetti’s and freeze.
Jeremy Weston in a dark blue suit with a white dress shirt and light blue tie isn’t half bad either.
Now I know exactly why my dad wanted me to meet him here. He’s sitting at a table with West and Trent.
The second West spots me he’s on his feet and approaching me from across the restaurant. As he nears where I’m standing, a smile touches his full lips.
Why does he have to be so handsome?
“Angel,” he whispers roughly. “You look beautiful today.”
My heart pounds fiercely in my chest. I can’t do this. I can’t give in to the temptation to acknowledge what we both already know. We fucked two months ago and I’ve spent hours since then thinking about every detail of that night.
“It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Weston.” My voice is strained.
The corner of his mouth lifts into a smile. “What happened in Vegas isn’t going to stay there.”
“Vegas?” I squeak the word out.
“Vegas? What about Las Vegas?”
We both turn at the sound of Mitchell’s voice. He’s standing in the entrance of the restaurant with his hand still curled around the doorknob.
“What are you two talking about?” He moves closer, the door shutting behind him. “Tell me what I’m missing here.”
I close my eyes because the relentless hammering of my heart inside my chest is deafening. I need to get a grip.
“One of the ideas I’ve been batting around with Trent is a launch party on the strip.”
My eyes pop open at West’s words.
“That’s brilliant.” Mitchell moves to stand next to me. “Why didn’t I think of that? It’s the perfect way to launch the vanilla vodka.”
It’s also the perfect way to launch any new tequila brand, or bourbon, or beer, which is why it’s the go-to marketing move for so many companies.
It works, but it’s not for Rizon.
“I think we should have a launch party here in Manhattan. There’s a beautiful rooftop terrace on the Bishop Hotel in Tribeca. We could do it at dusk, and make it a black tie affair.”
I’m mildly impressed with myself for coming up with that in a split second.
Mitchell shakes his head. “I don’t like it. My vote is for Vegas.”
West turns his attention back to me, his gaze scanning my face. “My vote is for Manhattan. I don’t need to get on an airplane to get what I want.”
His words hold more meaning than Mitchell can comprehend. Maybe more than I can.
West wants me.
His desire is there in his eyes and woven into everything he says to me.
He has no idea that I’m trying to win the fight of my life against Mitchell, and I can’t risk losing that, not even for him.
Chapter 19
Jeremy