That journalists, photographers, and New York’s elite would be.
Which means for the purposes of tonight, we’re very much in love.
“This place is gorgeous,” I say. Light beams in from above, through the glass domed ceiling, making the limestone floor gleam.
“It took too long to construct,” Victor says. “The architecture firm the city hired went over time by three months.”
I lean closer. “I understand that must have been a major disappointment for you, considering that I worked for you for a year and not once did you have me schedule appointments to go to the theater or the opera.”
He snorts. “I suppose I haven’t gone as much lately.”
“By lately, do you mean the past decade?”
“I might, yes. You’re in a good mood tonight.”
My fingers tighten on his arm. I am, and it has nothing to do with the opera. Excitement and anticipation is a heavy weight in my stomach. Against every one of my principles, I liked kissing him. The memory of his touch in the gym is powerful enough to make me shiver.
“I am in a good mood,” I say. “Nadine came with me to shop for this dress. We had a great afternoon.”
Victor looks down at me, dark blue eyes sweeping over my form. The dress is red and clings to my body. Nadine had called it a fuck-me dress, but the lite version. The one you can wear to a function… and ask a man to peel you out of afterwards.
Victor’s voice is husky. “Good choice.”
“Thank you. I like you in your tux.”
He stops, eyes dropping to my lips. I tip my head back in welcome. The kiss is perfect. Warm and strong and filled with the promise of what’s to come. He trails his lips to my ear afterwards, heedless of who’s watching.
“It’s a beautiful dress,” he murmurs. “But it’ll look even better on your bedroom floor.”
A shiver runs over my skin. I catch sight of a few men in tuxedos watching us across the lobby and I laugh, breathless.
“Something funny, Myers?”
“I just realized that we won’t have to work so hard to seem like a couple in love tonight.” The second the words are out, I hear how they sound. “I mean, because of… well. Not that we’re actually in love. You get what I mean.”
Victor nods and pulls me along. His gaze is locked on the same group of men. “Indeed.”
I want to press my hands against the warm flush in my cheeks, but if he hasn’t noticed how flustered my own words made me, I won’t bring it to his attention.
Victor networks like he does all things. Intensely. Idle chitchat is brief and to the point, despite my efforts to string it out. I aim smiles at people to soften the bluntness of him.
“What was that?” he asks me as we step away from a couple. I’d asked the two of them where they honeymooned, because we never had a chance to go on one ourselves, and it had launched a refreshing ten-minute conversation about different Caribbean islands.
“That,” I tell him, “was networking.”
“Not any kind I do.”
“No, I’m aware of that.”
“What does that mean?”
“That you’re prickly and to the point. And that works great in meetings—I’ve seen it work!—but not at events like this.”
“You’re criticizing me,” he says.
I meet his gaze, and it’s not fear that unfurls inside of me at the challenge in them. It’s something else entirely, but it scares me just as much.
“I’m giving you advice. Not the same thing.”