There’s the smile I’m used to.Deep.Honest.Beautiful.
“I owe you one.Now you have to tell me what you want, so I can repay the favor.”
I wait for his answer, but I don’t need it.I know what he wants.It’s obvious.It’s been clear since I met him, since he grabbed Sterling’s hand and led us both into this room.All he has to do is admit it.
He reaches up, brushes my hair out of my face.“Some other time,” he says.“You’re about to have your hands full, and I feel a song coming on.”
Disappointment sinks heavy in my gut.“Oh, okay.Of course.”Still, I hate leaving things like this, so I lift up and kiss his cheek, breathe in his heady scent.“Promise me it’ll be a love song.”
More of that innate joy shakes loose in him.“It’s never going to be anything else, is it?”
Yes, I think before he leaves.It’ll always be love.
* * *
Oh, Lucky …
please tell me there’s an epilogue(go to 83)
go back(go to 32)
“Sure you’re ready for this?”Lucky asks, getting frustrated with his bow tie.
He’s on his third attempt to tie it.I’m no help, and honestly, he’d look better without it—or any clothes, but it’s not that kind of party.
“I hate these blasted things.”He groans and rips it off, stuffing it into his pocket.
“More than ready,” I say, meaning it.
Tonight is a big night, a celebration of the city and my biggest opportunity yet to make the connections I’ll need to support my career.
I earned this invite.
I don’t even care that Monica will be there.
She’s always gloated about being the only attendee fromThe Observer, and I am especially looking forward to wiping the smile off her face by walking in with my head held high.
Lucky sneaks up behind me, sliding his hands down my full hips.His tattoos peek out from his tuxedo and make him look more dangerous, not less.
“You look incredible, love.”
“I was just thinking the same thing about you.”
* * *
Adrenaline builds in my belly as we step into the ballroom.The mayor is here, along with half of the city’s elite.If ever I wanted a pull quote, now’s the time.It might be fun to hound a slippery CEO while they sip champagne and have to play calm.
Maybe next year …
Lucky slips his hand from my back to my waist, protective.“Christ, look at them all.”
The room is a blur of starched collars and polite smiles.“Almost makes me want to ruffle some feathers.”
“Attagirl.”
The evening is, in short, a black-tie networking event.Sure, there’ll be a speech and some toasts to a better tomorrow, but it’s largely a self-congratulatory pat on the back.Safe.Gentle.
“The point is not to do anything, but to be seen,” my new boss, Zia, told me as she handed me the embossed invitation.
