His directness throws me.
“Well?” he prompts when I’m slow to respond.
Do I even have a clue?
I look at him, taking in his sharp suit and those intense blue eyes.
“It’s not about the upscale places or the flashy gifts,” I begin tentatively. “It’s about feeling truly understood. Finding out who she really is—her dreams, her fears, her secrets.” I pause, carefully picking my next words. “You know, regardless of how rich or poor you are, what women really want is for men who are genuinely interested in knowing them. Not just as a conquest,but as a real person. To feel we’re more than just a game, a notch in the bedpost. A man who’s excited to learn all the parts of you, not just the surface stuff.”
I shrug, my vulnerability making me squirm. “I want that immediate spark, but also the slow burn that lasts past the first night.”
My rambling confession lingers in the air between us.
I brace for some cutting remark from him, but instead, he surprises me with a genuinely warm smile. Totally didn’t see that coming.
So, I gather all the courage I’ve got left and say quietly, “For what it’s worth, I believe you’re capable of everything I just described. I think you’ve got the whole romance thing in you, when you actually want to.”
And with that mic drop, I spin on my heel and walk out.
TWENTY-ONE
Lexi
“We’re on Quinn & Wolfe’s dime for this, right?” Kayla asks, eyeing a cocktail that’s literally on fire on the bar.
“Yep,” I reply. We’re “casually” hanging out in the Orchid Room, yet another pretentious establishment under Connor’s hotel empire. The place where he plans to very publicly woo Willow, and I’m here to ensure the bloggers and paparazzi don’t miss a second.
I’m jittery as hell, but I’m also feeling kind of fierce in my outfit. I unzip my NSFW bodycon leather dress even further down my front. The front zipper goes all the way from my tits to my bits with no stops in between. Decided to go braless tonight—nothing’s cramping my style. Although, gotta admit, this dress is a bit snugger than I remember. Wrestling the zipper up felt like a workout. I’m pretty sure if I sneeze, my bust will pop out.
“So, what’s our spending cap?” Kayla asks eagerly, scanning the menu.
I shrug. “Connor didn’t give me one.”
Her eyes gleam. “We can orderanything? Even their top-shelf champagne?”
“Hmm, testing Connor with a hefty tab might not be the best idea. But then, his idea of ‘expensive’ probably doesn’t matchours.” Glancing around the plush bar, I muse, “If I owned a place like this, I’d probably spend my days making snow angels in cash and swinging from the chandeliers.”
“Can you imagine.” Kayla sighs dreamily.
No, I cannot. My dreams are more down-to-earth—a place of my own, taking care of Mom. That’s about the size of it.
I watch the other crowds of girls in the bar—with their friends, with guys, on good dates, some on bad dates. It dawns on me. I used to be like them, out just for the laughs.
What I’m doing isn’t working.
Never allowing myself to have fun has turned me into a massive grump. I’m trying so hard, sacrificing everything—for what? I’m spending all this money to keep Mom nearby in New York, but I’m not actually living. It’s a sad epiphany to have in this upmarket bar.
We go for a couple of glasses of champagne that won’t break the bank. I take a big swig of mine, maybe too enthusiastically.
“You okay?” Kayla asks, brow furrowed.
“Oh yeah, just this dress is squeezing the life out of me,” I joke.
It’s partly true but not the whole story. Still, she grins and accepts it. “You look really sexy tonight. Why didn’t you warn me you were going full bombshell? I look like I’m about to chair a board meeting next to you.”
Kayla’s in her office attire while I’m looking like a rockstar’s questionable date in this dress. I paired it with my trusty Doc Martens, aiming for thatTrying but not trying too hardlook. Even my hair got a special twirl today, a rare event in the history of my hairstyling.
“Sorry, I guess I went a bit overboard. It’s not like I have many excuses to dress up these days.”
