The drinks are stiff, the conversation is worse.
And Preston’s family loves the place.
Of course they do.
His dad plays squash here every Tuesday and Eleanor’s a founding member of the Mahjong Club.
We were meant to have our engagement party in the Carrington Club ballroom.
Definitely not my pick. I’ve never liked the place, andthe thought of being thrown back into the den of society vipers has me on edge.
“Tons of important people here tonight.” I smooth an imaginary wrinkle from the black silk skirt of my dress, glancing over at Bennett.
He’s gorgeous personified in his dark suit and tie, all muscle and swagger. I’d love to drive around Manhattan and fuck the night away in the back seat. But I’m fairly certain my father would be less than pleased with that course of action.
“We get in, shake hands, smile, and get out.”
Before anyone can bite us.
“Got it, Boss.” Bennett flashes me a broad smile and my thighs clench, remembering last night.
He reaches over, squeezing my hand. “Hey. I watched you shut down Weston in one sentence the other night. Run your fund while babysitting me. Trust me — whatever’s waiting in there is the easier job.”
Like he’s reading my mind.
I love this man.
The thought’s so wild, so out of the blue, I suck in a choking breath.
“You okay?” Bennett tips his head, a curl falling over his forehead.
I nod. “Perfect.”
Fingers still laced in mine, he strokes my hand with his thumb the rest of the ride. The glittering lights of Manhattan blur my vision and I try to focus on my breath, not the tightness in my chest.
We finally pull up to the club and I almost tell the driver to keep going. But my father would kill me.
Instead, he pulls into the circular drive and we exit the car. The night’s chilly, the noise of the city swelling fromthe street. We fall in step with the other arriving couples, all fake smiles and black ties. With a pit in my stomach, I climb the stairs, Bennett’s hand at my back.
I try to act normal, like this is just another Tuesday.
Like everything’s not on the line tonight.
The sponsors, the team. And I’m sure I’ll run into more than one potential fund investor.
My stomach tightens the second the brass doors glint before me. I flash my tickets at the doorman and he scans the QR code.
“Welcome to the Carrington Club, Ms. Prince.” He tips his chin, granting us access.
Together, we waltz into the lacquered quiet of the Carrington Club. The smell of wood and old money hits my nose as we step into the darkened space. Sconce lights glow against the golden wallpaper, the floors a deep mahogany.
“Fancy.” Bennett leans over and whispers in my ear. His warm breath on my skin sends a shiver through me and I fervently wish we were back in Chicago, my breasts pressed against the window, his cock driving into me.
“It’s…something. Come on.” I link my hand in his and guide him through the winding corridors toward the lounge.
A few mutuals nod their hellos as we pass, but it’s mostly people I don’t recognize.
Wonderful.
