"What about you?" I ask. "You don't look thrilled to be here either."
"I'm not."
"Then why are you?" I can't imagine a world in which this man is forced to do anything he doesn't want.
"Obligation." He says it like it tastes bitter. "Family business."
"Let me guess. You're supposed to be networking, making connections, being seen." I gesture at his clearly expensive clothing. "Maintaining appearances."
"Something like that."
I raise my glass. "Well then. Here's to obligations we'd rather avoid."
He touches his glass to mine, and something electric passes between us at the soft clink of crystal. His eyes hold mine for a beat too long.
"I'm Sera," I say, then wonder why I'm introducing myself to a stranger at a bar after the worst forty minutes of my professional life.
"Short for?"
"Seraphina. But no one calls me that except my boss when he's being formal."
"Seraphina." He says my full name slowly, like he's tasting it. The sound of my name in his rough voice makes me shiver. Jesus, I have never been affected by a man like this. "It suits you better."
I raise my brow, coyly. "You don't know me well enough to know what suits me."
"Not yet."
The words hang between us, loaded with implication.
"And you are?" I try to sound casual, but my heart is suddenly beating faster. I want to know him, to put a name to this man who affects me more than I care to admit.
"Adrian."
"Nice to meet you, Adrian."
He takes my hand. I expect a handshake, but instead he turns it over and presses his lips to the inside of my wrist, right where my pulse is hammering.
Electricity shoots up my arm. No man has ever done something like that. No man would have had the balls—at least not in the circles I run in.
Even though it's a little odd, it makes my heart slam into my rib cage, and I feel myself clench low in my belly.
I should leave. I should thank him for the drink, make an excuse, and go home to my tiny apartment where I can obsess over Gabe's debt and the fact that I just humiliated myself in front of everyone who matters in my field.
Instead, I stay.
"So," Adrian says, his voice low. "Rare books. That's what you do?"
"Restoration, mostly. Manuscripts, first editions, anything that needs to be preserved." I take another sip of vodka, feeling it warm my insides. "It's meticulous work. Requires patience and precision. Most people find it boring."
"Do you find it boring?"
"No. I love it." The admission comes easily. "When I'm working, nothing else matters. It's just me and the book and the work. Everything else disappears."
"Sounds like an escape."
"It is." I meet his eyes. "What about you? What do you do when you're not being dragged to charity galas?"
"I solve problems."
