But this was Jay’s event. He was meeting his most important investors, and they had the power to make his dreams come true. The pink suit was elegant and sophisticated, corporate but also classy. She’d accented it with chunky gold jewelry, pink stilettos, and a knockoff Chanel bag. With her hair straightened, her nails painted, and her makeup done to perfection, she was everything the future CEO of an international company could want in a party plus-one.
At least that had been the plan.
“Do you need a hand getting out?” The cab driver looked over his shoulder as Zara struggled to move. Something had happened in the last thirty-five minutes that had turned a slightly tight outfit into a torture device. Unable to contain the volume of her thighs, her skirt was straining at the seams, and damned if she couldn’t move her arms in the extra skinny three-quarter-length sleeves. Even the shoes were now too tight, her flesh puffing up around the toes like she’d shoved two brown fluffy pavs beneath the delicate diamante straps instead of feet.
“I’m good, thanks.” She drew in enough breath to finish the sentence, wondering if it was possible for a waistband to saw a person through the middle.
By the time she’d made it out of the cab, sweat had beaded on her brow and trickled between her breasts, staining the white silk sheath she’d worn beneath the jacket. She fastened the buttons to hide the evidence and looked for Jay.
Another problem emerged when she spotted him near the entrance. Extra-tight pencil skirts and extra-high stilettos were not a good combination. She shuffled along at a snail’s pace as seniors with walkers raced past her to the door.
Jay strode over to greet her, all cool and calm and perfectly mobile in his dark fitted suit and flat shoes. Why had she thought the Chanel suit was a good idea? Why was the sun shining when she was already drenched in sweat? Why hadn’t she listened to Parvati, who had warned her more wasn’t better when it came to heels?
“You look beautiful.” He pressed a kiss to her moist cheek.
“I was going for sophisticated, classy, elegant, and professional all at the same time.” She tiny-stepped a spin for him, keeping her arms by her sides, praying he didn’t spot the muffin top that had emerged from her skirt during the ride. This was why she didn’t wear suits with short jackets. There was little room to hide.
“Objective achieved, but I like you in anything you wear.” He leaned in to whisper in her ear, his hand sliding down to squeeze her ass. “Also, I like you when you wear nothing. That’s probably my favorite look.”
“Naughty.” She lightly slapped his hand away. “This is a classy event. I looked it up online. They’ve booked three floors of the club for cocktails and mixing and mingling with the stars. Fifty of the five hundred guests are big-time celebrities, but you know who I want to meet most.”
“The man whose picture dominates your bedroom and whose dulcet tones grace your speakers.” He took her hand, leading her into the venue, seemingly oblivious to her slow shuffle walk. “If I wasn’t brimming with self-confidence, I might feel threatened by your obsession with the musical star. Fortunately, I am secure in my masculinity and I have much nicer hair.”
After checking in at the door of the former Stock Exchange Tower, they took the elevator to the tenth floor. The entrance to the club featured one of the most striking art deco interiors Zara had ever seen. With a thirty-foot-high Diego Rivera fresco painted on the stairwell, a ceiling covered with burnished gold leaf squares, and black marble and silver and brass accents everywhere she looked, it was sophisticated with the right amount of glitz.
“I love this place,” she said, taking it all in. “It’s very . . .”
“You.”
She looked up at him and grinned. “Yes, it is. Very me. And the only thing that could make it better is to find my celebrity crush.”
“We’ll need to say hello to Thomas and his daughter, Brittany, first,” Jay said. “I saw them at one of the standing tables when we walked in. Elias is already with them.” He placed a firm hand against Zara’s lower back. “This way.”
“I know this event is important to you,” she said as they wound their way through the crowd. “You don’t have to worry. I’m keeping it low-key tonight. No breaks or spills. No rolling heads. No chaos or drama.”
“You don’t have to be anything other than yourself.” Jay pressed a soft kiss to her temple. “I want you to have a good time, meet your crush, hand out some cards, and find a few clients.”
Thomas waved them over to a standing table. Zara recognized him from the bar and hospital, and they shared a few pleasantries before he introduced his daughter. Brittany, wearing an elegant black dress and a strand of pearls, studied Zara with interest.
“What firm did you say you were with?”
“Cruz & Lovitt. We specialize in personal injury.” She handed Brittany her card. Something about the banker’s daughter set her teeth on edge.
Brittany studied the card, her lips quivering at the corners. “Oh. You’re the tiger firm.”
Zara drew in a deep breath, buttons straining on her jacket. Somehow her breasts seemed to have expanded on the ride over as well and seemed to be increasing in size by the minute. “We’re a boutique firm.” Zara forced a smile. “We won the largest plaintiff settlement in the state for a young client who was crushed by a falling telephone pole while riding his bike in a national park.”
“It’s not real law, though, is it?” Brittany said. “Those personal injury cases always settle. They rarely get to court.”
“Zara was in court just the other week.” Jay slid an arm around her waist. “I got to watch her trial. She was amazing.”
“How lovely.” Brittany reached for her glass, her hand brushing lightly over Jay’s sleeve. “Jay mentioned you two just got together.”
Zara’s focus sharpened on the banker’s daughter. Brittany wanted her man and was making no effort to hide it. Zara couldn’t decide if she was insulted or impressed. Not that it mattered. Jay was hers and Brittany needed to get that message.
“When you know, you know.” She leaned into Jay and nuzzled his neck. “Isn’t that right, hon?”
“Yes, that’s right . . .” Jay stiffened, cleared his throat. “Hon.”
“So . . . Brittany.” Zara sipped her wine again for the liquid courage it offered and to keep her hands away from Brittany’s throat. “What do you do at the bank?”
Brittany launched into a rambling explanation of bank structures, financing groups, and her long list of credentials. Zara could only partially focus on her words because every two sentences or so Brittany’s hand would fall gently on Jay’s arm. “MBA blah blah blah. Isn’t that right, Jay? Global markets blah blah blah. Jay knows all about that . . .” The sheer audacity of the woman astounded her, but not as much as the overwhelming rush of emotion she felt at the thought of Jay and Brittany together. It didn’t make sense. Only a few weeks ago, she’d been trying to match Jay up with someone exactly like Brittany. Only the other night she’d told Jay’s mom there was nothing between them.