“You know?”
“I saw your glass of wine at dinner.”
“Oh damn. Make that three times then.”
“Life of a world-famous fashion model, huh?”
I rolled my eyes. “Hardly. No. I had a fitting this morning and champagne was brought in.”
“Brought in.” He made air quotes. “That’s fancy world-famous fashion model talk if I’ve ever heard it. Which… I haven’t actually. Continue, please.”
I smacked him lightly on the arm, thrilling in the warmth of his skin on my fingertips (Jesus, I was drunk) and continued.
“As I was saying,” I said, slurring a little. “We had champagne. Ordered by…” I paused for effect. “The creative director of Vogue Magazine.”
His cheeks colored and I pointed gleefully at him.
“It’s you, isn’t it?”
“And, assuming we’re talking about the same thing… it’s you?”
For a long moment his eyes stayed locked on mine, my chest rising and falling, a delicious tightening happening deep within my center.
“Hey, Miss?” I heard Cole say loudly, interrupting the moment. “Respect people’s privacy, yeah?”
“Sorry,” a woman said, scampering away, her phone in her hand.
“And that’s my cue,” I said, reaching for my purse.
“I’ve got it,” Graham said, taking out his wallet and handing Cole his card.
“I think I got her before she took a picture,” Cole said. “Sorry she got past me though. Slipped by while I was serving someone else.”
“Not your fault, Cole,” Graham said. “I was supposed to be on watch.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “But I need to get out of here now. Can I use the back door?”
“You know you don’t even need to ask,” Cole said.
“Share a cab?” Graham asked.
“Deal,” I said, and led the way to the back door.
“Well, here we are again,” I said as the cab he’d hailed sped toward Brooklyn.
“We seem to be forming a habit.”
But I didn’t respond, my mind somewhere else.
“You okay?” Graham asked.
I felt my eyes well and looked out the window, embarrassed.
“Lior?”
“I’m fine. I’m just so tired of it,” I said, my voice soft. “Imagine if she’d gotten the shot. The media would’ve had a field day.”
“Why?”
