“Your problem is that you expect too much of these people,” I say quietly. “They’re shallow. They’re vain. You genuinely care about people, and they only care about other people thinking they care about people.”
“That sucks,” she remarks.
“You’re looking at it the wrong way,” I reply. “Look at this as a room of potential donors. All you need to learn is how best to manipulate them. Befriend them, talk about their vain interests, flatter their egos, lay on a thin layer of guilt, and soon enough, you’ll have them throwing buckets of cash at you and applauding you for the opportunity to do so.”
Alexis pulls back, lifting an eyebrow. Her mouth tilts slightly in amusement. “Is that what you see when you walk into a room? A flock of sheep ripe for manipulation?”
I chuckle. “That is the nature of my business. I won’t apologize for that.” I guide her out into a spin and then pull her back. “Life is all about knowing what you can get from whom and how.”
“And what is it that you think you can get from me, Mr. Bellucci?” she asks coyly, batting her eyelashes.
There are a number of things I want from her right now—none of which I can get. I dig my fingers tighter into the skin of her back and lean in until my breath fans her neck.
“With you, it’s not a case of what I think I can get, it’s what I will get.”
“And what will you get?”
I drag her an inch closer. “When we get home, you’re going to strip naked and wait for me on your knees while I decide.”
Alexis drags in a ragged breath. The sound of it is so sexy that I debate dragging her off to a quiet corner now for a little taste of what’s to come. I decide against it. Sometimes it feels like we are skating from scandal to scandal, and being caught fucking in public never goes down well.
“Mr. Bellucci!” a squeaky voice pipes from behind me.
Alexis and I turn around to find a tiny redhead bobbing into view, clutching a pen and a small notepad. She looks no older than twenty, with round, cherubic cheeks and big green eyes.
I cock a brow expectantly.
The woman clears her throat, suddenly looking nervous. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but I’ve been looking for you all night. I’m Shannon Grantham, with the People’s Weekly. We’re a lifestyle magazine that—”
“I know People’s Weekly,” I interrupt, failing to hide my irritation. A reporter. Of course.
“Uh, right, sorry,” Shannon sputters. “We do these fun his-and-hers interviews, and my editor said if I could get one from you two tonight, then he’d let me write a front-page story. So far I’ve just been working on the little mini blurbs and—” She grimaces. “Sorry, I’m sure you don’t care. Anyway, I don’t think he thinks I’ll actually pull through, so you’d be really helping me out.”
I open my mouth to tell Shannon to clear off when Alexis’ fingers dig into my side.
“We can make time for a short interview, can’t we, darling?” Alexis says smoothly.
I glare down at her, but she simply throws back a breezy smile. Shannon doesn’t notice the exchange. She’s practically vibrating with excitement and has already started jotting things down in her notebook.
“Great, amazing!” she exclaims. “Should we go to your table?”
We leave the dance floor and lead Shannon over to our table. En route, Alexis whispers, “Give the girl a break. She reminds me of me.”
Of course she does.
I sigh. If Alexis really wants to do a fluffy interview with a toddler, I suppose I can give the girl a few minutes of my time.
“I can see why you’d think that,” I whisper back. “Only you were more annoying.”
Alexis pokes my side again, and I laugh.
We take a seat at the table, and Shannon stands in front of us. Her face is pink, and she takes a second to silently read over her list of questions. When she looks up at us, I see that although her expression is nervous, there is bravery in her eyes.
“Okay, first question,” she says. “Which of you is more likely to cook a romantic dinner?”
Fucking hell. It’s one of those interviews.
Alexis grins. “Definitely me. I’m not sure Gabriel can cook.”
“I can cook,” I argue.
She eyes me quizzically. “Then how come I’ve never seen you do it?”
“I’ve never seen you cook either.”
That’s a lie. I watched her cook every day on the cameras while she lived in her apartment.
“Question two,” Shannon continues, apparently unfazed by our bickering. “Which of you is most likely to get up and sing karaoke?”
“Me,” Alexis says.
I nod in agreement.
“Which of you is most likely to snore in your sleep?”
“Alexis,” I say.
“Gabriel,” Alexis says at the same time.
We glare at each other.
“I do not snore,” I tell her.
“You do snore. I have heard you snore.”
“That’s simply not true.”
“It is true!” Alexis huffs. “It’s like a Boeing 747 going off sometimes.”
I look at Shannon. “Is there a question about which of us is most likely to lie about the other snoring? Because I can tell you right now who that would be.”
“You’re ridiculous!” Alexis says with a laugh, “How would you know if you snore or not unless somebody tells you? You’re asleep!”
“Because that’s the sort of thing I just know!”
Alexis glances at Shannon. “Is there a question in there about which of us is most likely to think they know everything when they really don’t?”
“There is, actually,” Shannon replies.
Alexis looks back at me, and we hold each other’s gazes for a long beat. And then we both break down in laughter. My shoulders shake, and I lean over to press a kiss to Alexis’ brow.
“You’re trouble,” I say.
Shannon seems a little stunned by this but smiles. “Are you ready for the next question?”
I smile at her. “Go on then.”
By the time we make it out to the limo, both of us are exhausted. It has been a long night of networking, dancing, and lying. Plus one humorous interview that I was surprised to actually enjoy. I find when I am with Alexis, I enjoy a lot of things that I would have found tedious before.
“Well, that was interesting,” Alexis says as we pull away from the curb.
“Interesting?”
She smiles, sliding across the back seat to nestle against me. “It was fun, actually. I like us doing things like this together. It feels like we really are a team.”
I wrap my arm around her shoulders, soaking in her warmth. It could be a very sweet moment, only I don’t want her to think this is all being my partner will entail. I don’t want her to build false expectations of our future together.
“I hope you know that it will not always be this peaceful,” I tell her. “In fact, tonight was a brief respite from a war that has been bubbling under the concrete of this city for years.”
Alexis looks up at me. “I know.”