I shake out of my stupor and make my way to the bar.
My eyes widen at the showstopping displays of orchids in rectangular vases sitting at opposite ends of the bar.
Spectacular.
I would’ve sold my soul to have the Bymark Hotel as a client when I had my corporate floral business.
It’s the here and now, Harl.
There are a few men sitting alone at the bar, but only one of them has an empty stool next to him. When he turns his head to the side and exposes his gorgeous profile, I smile.
I stride across the lounge, soaking up the vibe.
Thirty-dollar drinks, sixty-dollar appetizers, and twenty-dollar desserts weren’t part of my reality when I was barely scraping by.
I guess it is now.
I tap on my role-playing partner’s shoulder.
He turns around.
I dial up my smile. “Is the seat next to you taken?”
He gives me a languorous onceover. “It is now.”
I move to the stool and hitch my body on it.
In a city where multimillionaires and multibillionaires abound, there’s no shortage of men in suits in New York, but none of them scream suit porn like the blue-eyed god sitting next to me.
My fake boyfriend selected a light gray suit that is no doubt bespoke. The H cufflinks adorning his white shirt elevate an already impeccable suit to cover model levels. I’ve spotted the same ones from Hermes on Ciara’s husband. I guess they’re a must-have accessory in a rich dude’s wardrobe.
My gaze travels up.
His hair, that usually looks like he’s run his fingers through it too many times in frustration, is neatly combed. His 5 o’clock shadow is so darn sexy, I want to feel the burn of it between my thighs.
“Are you objectifying me?” He arches a brow.
I am.“I was appreciating the fact that serendipity made it so I’m seated next to a man who wears a suit like he was born in one.”
He glances over his shoulder. “Plenty of other guys in suits in this lounge.”
“Really?” I frown. “There are other men here?” I shrug. “Hadn’t noticed.”
His lips part in a slow smile.
Wow.
It’s the second time since moving in with him that he’sgraced me with such a precious gift. “Watch it, buddy. You might knock me off my seat with that dazzling smile.”
Said smile grows wider.
A waitress appears. “Can I get you anything, ma’am?”
“I’ll have a French 75, please.”
“Coming right up,” she says. “Would you like another one, sir?”
Kaz gulps down the remainder of his drink. “Yes, please.”
