“Of course not.”
“And at nine o’clock is?—”
“Maverick and Baron,” I say, and I swear he almost smiles.
“You’ve done homework.” His voice is warm in my ear, his hand warmer on my lower back.
“I’ve written and rewritten your daily schedule enough times to recognize those two,” I saw with a smile.
“Alright, let’s spin the game around, shall we?” As he says that, he spins me, too. “Who’s at five o clock?”
“Tight smile, but not amused, and never puts his old fashioned down? Your father, Anton Rozanov.”
“Not bad. And over my left shoulder?”
“With the slimy smile and fuckboy body language and receding hairline? Tristan.”
“Very good.” He actually smirks. “And the woman in silver by the champagne fountain?”
“Your lovely mother, Arina.”
“And the red-faced man standing next to Tristan?” he asks.
“The one who looks like a constipated pufferfish? Dmitry Chadovich.”
That almost earns me a laugh. Almost. And I take pride in it.
We turn again. I see Jenica pretending not to stare at us. “You really don’t find her attractive?” I ask, not so sure I believe that. With long blonde hair and a gorgeous pink dress, I can’t imagine anyone not being into her.
“It’s not about attraction,” he says dryly.
“So you want to marry for love?” I almost laugh because, come on. No way. Ransome Rozanov, a romantic? Hell would freeze over all the way to the devil’s ass hairs. Sure, I might have held hope back in my stalker days, but that was a fantasy. AsRansome himself showed me, there is no place for fantasy in his world.
There’s a beat of silence. I wonder if my cheeky question has earned the silent treatment for the rest of the night.
But then?—
“I don’t want to get married at all.”
His gaze darts around. I start to say something, but before I can, his mouth covers mine.
Right in front of everyone.
The kiss lasts long enough to send a rippling gasp through the room, sending my heart from the moon to the floor as I realize it is most likely for show. When his mouth pulls away from mine, the song ends, and the rest of his body pulls away as well. He heads back to the bar and I look around, realizing everyone is still staring at me.
I book it to the bathroom.
I don’t breathe until the door closes behind me. With my hands gripping the edge of the counter, I gasp for all the air I didn’t breathe in the last sixty seconds as my chest rises and falls jaggedly.
I look in the mirror, meeting my own eyes and asking myself,What I am doing here and how on fucking earth is this my life?
I take in another deep breath and let it out slowly. I need to get my shit together. I straighten my mask, reach in my small bag, and pull out the red lipstick for reapplication.
Just as I smack my lips together, the door opens.
And because my life is my life, Jenica walks in.
I meet her eyes in the mirror and even offer a tiny smile. It is tossed back at me in the form of a cold stare. Not that I’m surprised.
