Court stepped forward, looking every inch the golden boy that English wanted him to be. “Thank you so much, Linda.” He touched her shoulder and gave her the charming smile that won over every woman he came in contact with. “It’s my pleasure to be here today. As many of you know, I played lacrosse, growing up, and even played collegiate lacrosse for Harvard. It’s a sport that I love and believe in. And I don’t think that it should be reserved for the privileged few when it could be enjoyed by all.” He smiled dazzlingly. “That’s why I’m pleased to be here today with Caleb and Jessi to donate to improve these programs. And if you’re so inclined, I suggest you donate today as well. Thank you.”
The crowd applauded for him. Even I did. It was a good speech. I bet English had written it. She certainly looked pleased with herself.
Court shook hands and took pictures before striding offstage toward English. They exchanged a few tense words before Court brushed past her in what appeared to be frustration. A determined look crossed her face. I’d seen that before. She used it with other celebrities when she needed to whip them into shape. And she was trying so hard with Court.
“That was quite a speech,” Sam muttered. “I can’t believe he can just donate a million dollars like that.”
“What’s a million dollars to someone with a nine-digit trust fund?” I muttered, my mind still following Court and English’s interaction.
“I can’t imagine that either.”
I laughed it off. “I don’t think many people can.”
“You’re so different than you were five years ago.”
“Yes, I am. But not because of the money. Money doesn’t buy happiness. In fact, most of the people I know who have it are pretty miserable. And I was the happiest on campaign when I was pretending to have next to nothing. So, I don’t think trust funds make a damn difference, except that they can cover up fuckups like Court.”
“It wasn’t a complaint,” he said evenly.
I noticed English coming toward me out of the corner of my eye. I knew what that meant. “Oh god.”
“What?” he asked, seeing where I was looking.
“English is like…a used car salesman tonight.”
“Have you ever been in a used car lot?”
I frowned. “Well, no, but it’s an expression.”
He laughed softly at my dismay. “I see.”
“Save me,” I pleaded.
Our eyes met. I begged him for his help in that look. I knew that I had agreed to go along with English’s plan…sort of. But now, I was tired. I did small talk all day at work. And though I’d had a good time with Danny, I was more curious about what Court had said about Sam. If it was true and what it meant and whether or not I should ever think about it again.
“Please,” I whispered.
Finally, he nodded. “Act drunk.”
I obliged, finishing off my drink and stumbling a little into him with a giggle. “Sorry.”
He put a hand out to steady me with an amused look on his face. “Looks like someone has had one too many.”
“Lark, hey,” English said when she approached us. “Oh my god, did you get wasted?”
I fluttered my eyelashes at her. “I think…Danny might have given me one too many drinks. I lost count.”
She sighed. “Well, shit.”
“Yeah, but…I’m fine,” I insisted.
“You’re not fine. We should probably get you home and sober. But I have to stay here with Court for a little longer.” She bit her lip.
“I can get her home,” Sam told her.
“Oh no…”
“It’s not a problem. We have work tomorrow anyway. I should probably get going or else I’ll be dead in the morning.”
“Are you sure?” English clearly disapproved but couldn’t say what she was really feeling in front of Sam.
“Completely.”
“All right,” she said on a sigh. “Thanks. I’ll owe you one.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said as he slipped his hand around my elbow and directed me toward the exit.
“Bye, English,” I called out to her.
She waved with another pointed shake of her head.
Once we exited the main ballroom, I straightened up with a laugh. “Worked like a charm.”
“Yeah, I didn’t know if you wanted to leave, but we really do have to get to work in the morning.”
“This is fine with me,” I told him honestly.
We hailed a cab to drive us back to my apartment. We were strangely silent on the drive. Not uncomfortable, but just…silent. As if whatever was said next would cause a ripple, and neither of us was willing to be the first one to dip our toe in the water.
Finally, we stopped outside of my place. I paid the cab, and Sam followed me out.
“Oh, you can take this one if you want,” I told him.
He shrugged. “Nah. I’ll just take the subway.”
“Are you sure? In that suit?” I reached forward and ran a hand down the front of the tuxedo. It was perfection.
“Oh yeah. I guess I didn’t think about that,” he said with a laugh. He didn’t pull back from my hand. “Not used to clothes this nice. I can grab an Uber or something.”
“All right.” I hesitated on the threshold to my apartment building. I’d had just enough to drink to feel bold. My hand was still on his suit. I should pull it back. I should walk away. I didn’t. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Were you jealous tonight?” I whispered, looking up at him with a flush on my pale cheeks.
He froze at the words. And I thought I’d pushed him too far. Asked the wrong question in the middle of our fine evening. But I couldn’t get Court’s words out of my head.
“Yes,” he said in surrender.
“Because I was talking to other guys?”
He nodded once. My fingers curled in on his suit. I shouldn’t. Bad Lark would. She would drag him inside right then and there. But I couldn’t. I had to resist.
“Why?” I asked, forcing my fingers to release his suit and fall back to my side.
“You know why.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think that I do.”
He opened his mouth to answer and then closed it. I didn’t think he’d answer at all. He’d just turn around and walk away. But he didn’t.
Instead, his hands came to my hips. Those long, callous dug into the silk of my dress. A peep escaped me at the feel of him touching me. Really touching me. Like he hadn’t done in so, so long.
I could barely think, let alone speak, as he walked me two steps backward. My back hit the brick wall of my building. My chest heaved as I glanced up into those depthless eyes. And I saw my mirror in them. Our bodies were pressed tight together. The scrape of the brick against my back was the only thing that reminded me that this wasn’t a dream.
“Sam,” I breathed. Not sure if I was telling him to stop or not.
But he didn’t say a word. Not one. As his lips crashed down onto mine.
I gasped in shock and want and desperation. So much need. My lips parted. His tongue devoured. And every movement, every touch, said, Yes, yes, yes. He tasted like whiskey and smelled like leather and new books and fresh soap. He was pure eroticism to my starved body.