Her laugh is bitter. “Does it matter? I’m a big girl.”
I slide her hands a little farther into mine. “Actually, it matters very much. This arrangement was supposed to be an inconvenience, but not a trial. Nobody is allowed to be mean to you. Was it Iris?”
She flashes a smile so fast I almost miss it. “I don’t know if that makes you a genius, Neil.”
Probably not. “She’s at the top of the stairs right now. Do I need to have a talk with her?”
“No,” she says immediately. “Not on your life. I will not be rescued from Iris. She just…” Charli sighs. “She can’t wrap her head around us as a couple. But can you blame her? I knew we’d make the least credible couple in New York City.”
“That is bullshit.” I stroke the back of her hand with my thumb, and my grandmother’s ring winks up at me. It looks beautiful on Charli’s hand. I suppose I should find that shocking, but I’m kind of over my shock now. “When I look at you with your flashing eyes in this incredible fucking dress, I feel very, very credible.”
“You don’t have to flatter me,” she insists.
“I’m not. I never lie to you. Not now, not ever.”
She blinks. And I know what I have to do. “Credibility, here we come. Brace yourself, I’m going in.”
Her lips part in surprise as I pull her closer to me. Then I tilt my head down and do the thing I’ve spent a lot of time trying not to do.
I kiss her. It’s no polite peck, either. I slip my arms around her waist and take her mouth under mine, slanting my lips across her softer ones.
Charli makes a bitten-off sound, like she’s not sure that just happened. Then her mouth softens like butter beneath mine.
Hell yes and hallelujah. I deepen the kiss, my hands full of silk, my heart full of wonder. And it’s not just me. Charli clutches the lapels of my tux and melts against my chest.
For one perfect minute, she’s mine. I slide my tongue over hers in the world’s briefest victory lap.
But we’re in a crowded room, and Charli hates a spectacle. I locate my self-control and ease the kiss to an agonizing end. I’m left looking down into Charli’s hazy blue-green gaze.
“Why did you do that?” she whispers.
“To demonstrate our credibility. And because it was amazing,” I whisper back.
“I noticed. But still.”
“Don’t overthink it. We’re going to do it again. Preferably three minutes from now. But I need you to leave with me.”
“You want to leave now?”
“Yeah, now. And I don’t just want to leave, I want to leave with you, and give you an even more thorough demonstration somewhere more private.”
“Oh.” She gives me a slow blink.
“Unless you love this party so much you want to stay?”
“I don’t care about the party. But we can’t just…” She trails off with a guilty expression.
“Says who? We can do whatever the hell we want,” I counter.
“Well, we shouldn’t,” she corrects.
“But we’re going to, right? The way you’re gripping me right now says you can’t wait.”
Charli looks down at her hands on my body, and then hastily relaxes her grip. “Damn it all.”
“See?” I press.
“Stop it. You’re just being smug.”
“You like it.” I grin right into her freshly kissed face.
“I do not.”
“Yeah, you do. But you have to pretend you don’t, right? You pretend you’re not attracted to me. You pretend you don’t have a clue how we ended up working out some unacknowledged tension in Vegas.”
Her gaze goes shifty, and she crosses her arms in front of that perfect chest. But she doesn’t argue.
“You think it’s some kind of moral failing to feel anything for me. Like you can’t stay angry at the world if you’re drinking a glass of overpriced champagne or taking a ride on my cock.”
She makes a sound of outrage. “Cornelius Drake,” she sputters. “That is not what a man says when he’s trying to get in my panties.”
I lean in close to her ear. “You’re not wearing panties,” I whisper. “But if you were, they’d be drenched. Because you want me, even if you hate saying so.”
She exhales shakily. “That is the bossiest, most obnoxious thing anyone has said to me in years.”
“Good dodge, kitten. Because I didn’t hear you refute it.”
She bites her lip and makes a sound of outrage. But she doesn’t move away from me. We’re toe to toe.
I reach up and stroke her cheek. “Can we leave, then? Fighting with you is always fun, but I have other plans for you and me.”
“Plans?” she asks weakly.
“Big plans. So big.”
Her eyes glaze over. I put my hands on her shoulders and gently turn her body until she’s facing the exit.
“There’s the door,” I whisper, standing directly behind her. “All you have to do is walk through it.” With those stilts she’s wearing, we line up perfectly. I run my lips over the shell of her ear. “Is tonight the night? You should know that I have never wanted anything more.”
Her breath stutters. She turns her head a fractional degree, and I hold my breath.
“We’ll see,” she whispers.
We’ll see. Such a Charli way to answer. So cagey. But I’m starting to understand why she needs to be. It’s not manipulation—it’s self-preservation.
Charli doesn’t have to save herself from me, though. I just haven’t found a way to prove it to her yet.
“Go on,” I whisper. “I’m right behind you.”
She reaches back to grip my hand like she might like to choke it. She marches forward, anyway. I’d do a fist pump and whoop for joy, if I didn’t think she’d hate it.
Quickly, we head outside. It’s wintertime, and she’s not wearing a coat, so she shivers immediately. “There’s a cab,” she says, pointing up the street.
But I have a better plan. I put two fingers in my mouth and whistle. Fifty yards down the block, the headlights of my mother’s limo illuminate. The sleek car pulls out and approaches.
The driver gets out and hurries around to open the door. “Evening, sir. Departing early?”
“Yeah, Stoats. Home to Brooklyn, please. It’s just the two of us.”
“Yessir. There’s an accident on the Manhattan Bridge. The Midtown Tunnel looks okay, or we could try the Brooklyn Bridge.”
“Don’t care,” I grunt as he opens the back door. “Actually—pick whichever of those things will take the longest.”
Charli reddens at this directive. Then she climbs into the car without a glance at Stoats and sits primly on the long seat, pulling the white mink over her shoulders.
I climb in after her, and the door shuts with a click. “Finally.” I sit down on the other seat, along the rear of the car. “Come here, please,” I say to Charli as I open a panel of controls. I flip a switch, and then I hit another button that pairs the stereo to my phone.
“What are you doing?” she asks from too far away.