“Aren’t we just going to meet your boyfriend and his colleagues? This dress isn’t exactly office attire.”
She stared at me, brows raised. “I feel like you just proved your own point.”
As I looked down, I caught a glimpse of my hands, seeing how badly I needed a manicure. In fact, all of me needed to be polished. That was what happened when you were in your first year of employment for Back Bay Digital. To stand out among the other full-time employees, I worked long, grueling hours, I said yes to everything management asked, and I answered my phone no matter what time it rang.
But I was so tired; I couldn’t even keep my eyes open.
Her hands went to my shoulders, and her face softened. “I haven’t seen you in five days, and I miss my best friend.” She released me and took a step toward the door. “I’m going to go pour you a Red Bull.”
“Add some vodka to it,” I shouted when she walked out, and I began stripping off the black pants and shirt I’d worn to work.
I covered myself in a robe and hurried into the shower, in there just long enough to wash my body. By the time I returned to my room, my skin slathered in lotion, there was a Red Bull on ice waiting for me on the dresser.
I stood in front of the mirror, sipping the energy drink, and I started to put on my makeup, adding eyeliner and bronzer before curling each section of my hair. I waited until my skin was fully dry before I carefully slipped on the dress. I finished the outfit with a pair of heels and perfume that I sprayed under my ears.
It was a spot Oliver had taught me about.
I took a deep breath, feeling the chills run through my body—something that still happened every time I thought of him.
One thing I’d learned over the last twelve months, which was how long it had been since I spoke to him, was that time wasn’t going to push Oliver Bennett out of my mind. He was going to live there forever, and I just had to accept it.
It was a good thing the memories I had of him were amazing.
“Stunning,” Molly purred from behind me.
I was still holding the perfume bottle in my hand, still staring at it.
“Thank you.” I set it down and took a final look at myself. “God, this dress was a good find.”
She pulled a piece of hair off my cheek. “I knew it was going to look good on you. Ready?”
I nodded and grabbed my clutch. I followed her into the living room where she picked up my keys off the table and handed them to me along with my jacket.
As I put them in my bag, I said, “What am I going to do when you move in with your boyfriend? Who’s going to remember to always pack my keys?”
She put her hand on top of mine and walked with me to the door. “We’ll make sure to find you a building with a doorman, so there will always be someone there to rescue you. Now, let’s go get a drink.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “I know it’s coming soon, and I’m not at all ready for it.”
She had met him the last semester of our senior year when she was doing her internship. She was picking up the coffee for her team when Marshall was walking by and saw her struggling with opening the door. He got her number, and they had been dating for almost a year.
She took a step closer and wrapped her arms around my neck. “We need to get you dating.”
“Find me someone who’s worth it.”
Her smile reached all the way to her eyes. “Now, I’m on a mission.”
I giggled again and grabbed her hand, looping our arms as I led us to the door. We had a four-block walk ahead of us and six stops on the train, and we were already late.
“The Red Bull is making these heels feel like clouds. Let’s hurry before that wears off.”
She laughed just as hard and squeezed my arm on the way out.
Twenty-Two
“What can I get you?” the bartender asked, his hands hovering, waiting to reach for one of the bottles.
I gripped the edge of the bar top, holding the cold leather, and said, “Prosecco, please.”
The speakeasy wasn’t too packed tonight, just a steady business crowd filling the main space and the small seating nooks that were like little dens built into the perimeter.
My eyes were falling over the row of wine, studying the labels, when I felt a piece of fabric brush across the side of my arm. I turned just in time to see a dark suit jacket leaving my skin, and with it came a scent. One that was so sharp and demanding—the smell of power if it came in a bottle.
I couldn’t believe how much I liked it.
My gaze traveled higher to the silk tie, the broad shoulders, and the full frame that was at least six-three and all suit. And I found myself holding in my breath as I took in this absolutely gorgeous man with thick black hair and a clean-shaven face, blue eyes so dark that they looked navy.
“Have you ordered?” he asked in a rich, deep voice.
“He’s making mine now.”
It was easy to see there was nothing raw about this man. He had a polished, educated demeanor with a richness that went well beyond the cost of his suit.
He smiled, and I found myself sucked into it, unable to look away. “What’s your name?”
With a stare as invasive as his, one I felt move straight through me, it seemed my name was something he should certainly know at this point.
“Chloe Kennedy.”
He turned his body so he was now facing me, showing me details I hadn’t picked up before—a narrow, angular nose and tiny wrinkles at the sides of his eyes. His hand reached forward, and when it surrounded mine, he said, “Lance Hamilton.”
“Here’s your Prosecco,” the bartender said, and from the corner of my eye, I saw him set down the glass.
“Add that to my tab, and I’ll take a scotch,” Lance said with his eyes on me.
I knew my cheeks were blushing, and it wasn’t because he was paying for the drink. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I can’t let a beautiful woman like yourself pay for her own drink.” His eyes narrowed. “Unless there’s someone else here who should be buying it?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Only you.”
My hand was still in his, gripped in a shake that I felt all the way up to my shoulder, across my chest, and down to my other hand that was clenching the cold glass of champagne.
My comment seemed to make his smile grow, and he held my hand for a second longer before releasing me.
“I was just coming to find you,” Molly said, startling me, her arm then snaking around my waist. “Looks like Lance found you instead.”
I glanced at my best friend, knowing Lance could hear us. “You know him?”
“I work with Marshall,” Lance said before Molly could reply, and he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “Nice to see you, Molly.”
She grinned at him. “You too.”
He hadn’t been part of the group Molly and Marshall introduced me to when we first arrived, nor had I seen him at any of the parties I attended with her. If I’d met Lance before, I wouldn’t have forgotten.
“I’ll see you back at the table,” she said, her arm leaving my waist, and she gave me a look I knew well. It was one that told me she approved, and then she was gone just as the bartender handed Lance his drink.