That was exactly what I had to do. Run.
I didn’t look back as I fled away in embarrassment, but I felt his burning gaze follow me. I burst into the ladies’ room, the door swinging behind me, my chest about to explode with what seemed to be a panic attack.
Yes. That was it. I panicked. I was about to get caught so I panicked. My brain couldn’t find any sensible way for me to hide the bug or put it in place other than mashing my lips against those of a total stranger.
Holding on to the vanity granite, unable to look at myself in the mirror, I told myself to calm down, but that was impossible. Not after that kiss.
My heart was banging frantically. My head was spinning as if I was drunk. And I couldn’t for the love of me stop licking his lingering taste off my lips.
Candy. Just like his breath. I couldn’t place what kind of colorful, sugary treat he was snacking on, but I knew it was that. Colorful and mushy and warm and decadent like he was. Like he made me feel.
That was why I lurched away in even more panic, in terror. This was the first pleasant, true feeling I’d had since I lost my family. I shouldn’t have felt that way. Not for the tiniest flicker of time. Not for a man. Any man. And certainly not for one like Fabio Zappa.
What the fuck was I thinking?
At least, I accomplished the task. I bugged the spy.
Blowing out a long breath and counting to ten in a feeble attempt to shake off that volcano of convoluted, wrong emotions inside me, I opened my purse that was dangling down my wrist and found the little, wireless earbud that came with the bug.
When I inserted it in my ear and turned it on, the sounds of the busy ballroom streamed in, and, on top of them, the voices of Fletcher and Fabio.
“Do you think you fooled anyone with your little sketch?” Fletcher scoffed. “You must do much better than that.”
A sigh came in mixed with a clink of a glass. Was it Fabio’s, frustrated with how his boss is lecturing him on how to play me? I meant, I kissed Fabio. To Fletcher, I took the bait. Fabio should up his game and take more advantage of me. My fingers lifted to my lips, revisiting the shameful kiss. Not that there was uppingthatgame. He was an excellent kisser.
“What was your name again?” Fletcher asked.
“I’m sure you remember it. It’s been carved in your memory since I gave it to you, and you most likely have Googled me on your way here,” Fabio said.
Fletcher made a sound that resembled a snorting chortle. “Fine. Since we’re being frank, I did Google you, but I didn’t come across much onFabio Zappa. People who are ghosts online either hide behind aliases or simply just hide. I will, though, find everything about you. The things you’re trying so hard to conceal.”
“Knock yourself out.”
“Starting with how much she paid you to be her fake date for the night.”
Wait, what? What was happening here?Hepaid Fabio to be my fake date for the night.
“That sounds like somethingyouwould do. What, you didn’t find someone in your price range for tonight?” Fabio countered.
“There’s nothing wrong with paying someone for their hard work, whether they’re respectable employees or slutty bitches that sell their asses. I rarely use the services of the latter, though. Don’t get me wrong, they have their appeal, but a man like me doesn’t need to pay for sex.”
“Neither does she. A lady with such beauty and class must have many admirers. I wonder how many asses have been offered to her over the years, asking for nothing in return but her attention, asses she keeps rejecting because they’ll never be good enough for her. I know there’s at least one.”
Oh my God. Oh my God! This couldn’t be a conversation between a boss and his employee. This was a verbal dual. The dangerous kind. Fletcher wasn’t a man that would let a random guy, inferior to him as he must have thought, insult him like that and let it slide.
I got the whole thing wrong. The laundry mix-up was real. Fletcher didn’t know Zappa, and now he truly suspected Fabio was an escort I paid to fake date me. A man I chose over Fletcher. That was dangerous.
What was even more dangerous was the fact that Fabio didwantto go out with me. Every flirt, every word, every emotion, every gift, every single gesture of his for me sprouted from his genuine interest in me.
My heart dipped, and another panic attack, one much more eminent, loomed over me.
“How long have you known Gabi, Zappa?” Fletcher’s voice made me jump.
“Not long per say…but long enough.”
Long enough for what?
Fletcher asked him the same question. I pressed a hand to my stomach, my heart wouldn’t stop racing as I waited for the answer.
