“If you have to be there, that’s workable,” Brock said, taking his clamshell, then mine, and making his way over toward the table.
We’d gotten comfortable with the casual intimacy that came with living together. The morning dance of making coffee. Choosing meals then eating them together.
Aside from Cam, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d spent as much time with a person as I was spending with Brock.
I was more than a little worried that it was to the point where I was going to miss it when it was gone. When he was gone. And hewouldbe gone. As soon as he figured out who was out to get me.
I probably should have been trying to distance myself, spending more time alone, things that would make his sudden disappearance easier to learn to live with.
Was that what I did, though?
No, no it was not.
“Will you go with me?” I asked, trying to inject as much confidence in my voice as possible, even though it was the most nervous I’d felt in ages. Which was absurd. I did multi-million dollar business deals. I stood up and spoke in front of some of the brightest minds in the world. And never, in any of those situations, did my belly wobble like it was wobbling in my own dining room, sitting across from a man I liked more than was healthy.
“Yes, of course,” he said immediately, sparing me any further torment. “I’d be happy to take you,” he added, somehow wiping away the lingering worries that he was doing it because he was obligated, because he didn’t want me to get attacked again. Because he didn’t say he would gowithme. He said he wouldtakeme. There was a distinct, monumental difference between those words. “And before you ask, yes, I have the appropriate attire,” he told me. “It’s the Falkes Benefit, right?” he asked.
“How do you know that?” I asked, unable to stop my lips from parting in surprise.
“I’ve attended a few benefits in my time,” he said, shrugging it off.
But this wasn’t something you shrugged off. The Falkes Benefit was invite-only. And those invites tended to only go out to the very elite. It had been one of those moments when I’d truly felt like I’d “made it” when I’d gotten my invitation with its thick linen paper with its understated art nouveau style flowers… andmyname printed there.
“Have you attended this one?” I asked, trying for casual, but I felt like my tone was a bit too curious, so played it down by opening up my food and poking around with my fork.
“Not in years,” he said, making my gaze shoot up to find him smirking at me, knowing how curious I was, but making me beg for the information.
“When did you go?” I asked.
“About six years ago,” he told me, giving me nothing else.
“You’re being deliberately difficult.”
“Only because it clearly drives you up a wall,” he shot back, making a laugh escape me as I reached for my wine.
“Were you there with a client?”
“An ex-client,” he told me.
“Another in a long line of conquests?” I asked.
“I’d prefer not to think of women as conquests. But, yes, it was someone I’d been casually seeing.”
“There’s nothing casual about the Falkes Benefit.”
“No. But this certain woman wanted to wave her younger date in the face of her older husband she’d just recently divorced.”
“Did he cheat on her?”
“Yes.”
“Well, then, I guess I can’t fault her for being petty. Did you enjoy the event?”
“For all the exclusivity, I’d had better food at smaller events.”
“That’s exactly what I said after the first time I went!” I said, throwing up a hand because no one else had ever said anything negative about it before. “What is it about ‘exclusive’ events that means the food has to have no flavor and not enough calories to feed an infant? I had to stop for fast food on the way home. In a gown. Because whoever thought one slice of meat and a piece of carrot draped over a single spear of asparagus would be filling was clearly out of their damn mind.”
“So that’s the plan then.”