“You’re talking semantics, now.”
“Talking about shared interests outside of business is the most important part of networking. If we were a proper married couple, and if you really wanted them to remember you, we’d take their advice seriously. You’d call them in a few weeks’ time and thank them for their input. You’d tell them we’ve booked a trip to one of the islands they suggested. Bermuda, say.”
“Barbados,” he says. “Better beaches, they said.”
I smile. “Right. Barbados. When we’d eventually go on our delayed honeymoon, we’d email them a picture or send them a postcard.”
“That’s too much.”
“No, it shows that we think they did us a favor. They feel helpful and included. People like to help, Victor. They also love the chance to look knowledgeable in front of others.”
His mouth is a frown. But it’s his thinking frown. “A lot of work,” he says.
I shrug. “Not necessarily. Just requires some forethought. And you’d really prefer we have our fake honeymoon in Barbados? I wouldn’t have guessed you were a surfer.”
Victor’s eyes meet mine. “No?”
“I would have thought you didn’t vacation at all.”
“Not regularly, no.”
“Surfing would not have been what I thought swayed you.”
“You claim to know me,” he says, “and yet sometimes I wonder if you do at all.”
“Mmm. I know for a fact you don’t know me.”
“I’m starting to learn.”
I don’t think he’s talking about my honeymoon preferences anymore. I run my fingers down his sleeve, finding a sliver of skin along his wrist. “What are we doing?”
“Whatever we want,” he says, eyes darkening. “I told you that already.”
It sounds so simple when he says it. It probably is, for him. I’ve spent a year watching him do as he pleases and take what he likes. And the world bows at his feet because of it.
What could be more convenient for him than sleeping with the woman he lives with? Who he’s already married to?
But convenience cuts both ways. I’d once said I’d try to be more like him and his ilk. Going after what I want.
“Look,” he says. I follow his gaze to a podium across the lobby. A small half-circle has formed around a well-dressed couple. He’s tall and auburn-haired, in a suit. The dark-haired woman next to him is gorgeous, and despite barely reaching his shoulder, they look well-matched.
“Who are they?”
“The architects who designed this opera house.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Are they a team, then? An architect duo?”
“They’re a team, all right,” Victor says. “They’re married.”
“Ooh,” I breathe. “Imagine working that close and also coming home together at the end of the night.”
“An absolute nightmare,” Victor says.
I laugh. “You would think that.”