“That it is,” the man says with a deep chuckle, throwing one arm around me. “And this one is one of the hardest workers of them all.”
Looking around the ballroom, I search for a place to lead Scarlett so I don’t have to leave her in the middle of a gala surrounded by sharks. When I spot an open spot at one of the bars, I flash an apologetic smile at the man and say, “Just give me one minute. Let me grab her a drink, and then I’ll join you.”
He waves me off as he turns toward the group I’m assuming he came from. “Of course. We’ll be waiting over here.”
Ushering Scarlett over to the bar, I quickly order her another glass of wine. “So no one offers to buy you a drink while I’m gone,” I tell her with a wink.
She shakes her head with a smile. “Guess I’m not as unreadable as I thought.”
I press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Not to me,” I murmur.
When I pull back, I glance around as I ask, “You sure you’re okay here for a minute? I’ll be quick, but…”
“Nico, this is exactly the kind of crowd Icanhandle,” she says with a light chuckle. Taking a sip of her wine, she waves me off. “Go work. I’ll be waiting right here when you’re done.”
I let out a heavy exhale. “Okay. Call me if you need anything.”
And when I turn away from her, I tell myself the drop I feel in my stomach is because our dance was interrupted.
Nothing else.
THIRTY-FOUR
SCARLETT
I watch Nico walk off, feeling like a bubble of sunshine wants to burst in my chest.
I have to fight the urge to giggle or squeal into my wine. I have no shot at hiding my giddy smile.
It’s all Nico’s doing, of course. I never thought I could enjoy an event like this, not surrounded by people I used to schmooze and being assaulted by memories of a similar place I’d rather forget. On paper, I shouldn’t be having the time of my life tonight.
And yet…I am.
I glance around the ballroom, already wishing Nico were back.
Is this what it means to truly enjoy a person’s company? Wanting them around constantly because they make everything better?
I stifle a laugh at the thought.EnjoyingNico’s company is putting it lightly, I think. It’s more likely that?—
“You know, I would’ve had you as a girl who likes white.”
Stiffening, I turn toward the voice at my side.
He’s young and attractive, clearly an athlete in a room like this. With a charming grin on his face and a tie-less, casually unbuttoned white shirt, it’s also clear he’s on the prowl.
I’ve never met him before, so I smile politely and ask, “I’m sorry?”
He nods at the glass in my hand. “You’re drinking red wine. I would’ve assumed white.”
“Oh. Uh, no.”
He tries again. “Can I buy you a glass of white? Maybe you’ll like it better.”
God, I’m so sick of men.
The thought is so jarring that I have to act like I’m wiping my mouth with a bar napkin to hide my laugh. When I’ve finally composed myself, I send him another polite smile and say, “Oh, that’s okay, thank you. I’m fine with this one.”
“Well, how about a cocktail instead?”
