He nods and makes his way to the bar for another drink. As I walk toward the bathroom, ready to reapply some of my favorite lip gloss, I feel something warm and heavy on my shoulder. If I didn’t know it was Giovanni by the cologne, I’d know it by the feel of his hand, the same one that soothed me in the elevator.
I shake his hand off my shoulder and spin around. “How did you get here?”
“A car,” Giovanni replies dryly.
“Nothereto the club. Hereto the hallway. You were just sitting over there.” I point toward the high-top in the corner.
“Keeping track of me, Tessa? Even when you’re dancing with another man. Interesting.”
I press my lips into a thin line. “Well, it’s hardnotto see you. No matter where I go, you stay entirely still while your eyes follow me like the Mona Lisa.”
Giovanni grins. “The only way you’d know I was staring atyouis if you were staring atme.”
Taking a step backward, I feel the cool of the marble wall against my open back. A light brown curl bounces in front of his forehead, and, in a move that is distressingly sexy, he reaches up to swoosh it back.
Giovanni steps toward me. “We should leave, right?”
I shake my head in disbelief at his audacity. “What? Why would you say that?”
“You’re bored.”
“I am not bored.”
“Tèssa.”
“I’ll have you know, Cameron is very interesting. He works for Sangue Luna.”
“Sangue Luna?The brand who got in trouble for exploiting laborers six years ago?”
I flush. “To be fair, he said he started working for the brandfiveyears ago, so he… probably wasn’t a part of that.”
“He knew about their unethical practices and still applied for a job? Wow.”
“Well, he’s not in textiles or design. He works for the treasury management department.”
“He’s infinance?” He presses his lips together to stifle a laugh. “Can we leave now?”
I fold my arms across my chest. “I’m not your girlfriend until midnight.”
Giovanni squints at me. Then the corner of his mouth twitches. “I’ll let you get back to your dance partner, then.”
“Thank you,” I reply, then head to the bathroom to compose myself.
After a quick mirror pep-talk, I rejoin Cameron, who glances at Giovanni. “Do you know that guy? He’s really staring at you.”
“Don’t worry. He’s a coworker of mine. Just looking out for the crew here.”
Cameron nods. “That’s nice of him.”
“Yeah, he’s a superniceguy.”
Three songs’ worth of feeling Giovanni’s eyes on my back and two lengthy stories on the thrilling world of internal auditing from Cameron later, I ask him if he wants to take a break at the bar. We head in that direction and grab two open stools. He orders a glass of red wine, and I switch to a Negroni. While we wait for the drinks, I bend down and adjust the ankle strap of my heel, which loosened a bit while dancing.
“Excuse me. Do you have the time?”
I snap up at the rich timbre of Giovanni’s voice and nearly smack my head into the counter. I’m about to tell him to go away before I realize he’s not asking me.
“It’s 11:58 p.m.” Cameron replies.
