39
Evan
“I’ll have another scotch,”I say to the bartender.
“Evan, are you sure you don’t want to pace yourself? The night is young after all,” my assistant Hayden says.
“It’s my second drink. What’s the big deal?” I scoff.
“Oh nothing. It’s just that you usually don’t drink at charity events. Plus, you have so many people to meet and mingle with, right?” he asks while nervously eyeing the crowd.
“Is everything okay, Hayden? Is there something you need to tell me?” I ask.
His gaze shoots back to me like a kid whose hand got caught in the cookie jar. “Nope, nothing to say. All good in the hood. Yep.” He nods.
“Maybe you need a drink, you seem a bit on edge. Consider yourself off the clock. I don’t intend on staying much longer anyways.” I pick up my fresh glass of scotch.
“No! You can’t leave. I mean, at least not yet.” He looks down at his phone and types ferociously. It beeps in his hands, then he looks up at me more relaxed. “Actually, you’re right. I probably just need a glass of champagne or something to relax.” He smiles as he takes a glass off a tray from a waiter walking past us.
I swear everyone is losing their damn minds this week.
The music goes from low, instrumental strings to a song with words and bass. Is there a performance happening tonight? I look over at Hayden and he looks like he is bursting at the seams, biting on his bottom lip while avoiding all eye contact with me.
This song. It sounds familiar. This sounds like something off of Amelia’s playlist when we were up in the cabin.
Or maybe it’s just a popular song and I just can’t get my mind off of her.
I slowly start to notice people’s gazes turning to the front door. There are men cranking their necks trying to get a look at what all the fuss is about. Probably a hot chick. Idiots.
I finish the last of my drink and set the glass on the bar.
“I think I’m going to head out, Hayden. Have a good night.”
“Are you sure about that boss?” Hayden smiles widely.
Then I hear the bartender speak. “Fucking hell. Who the fuck is that goddess?”
I follow his gaze until it reaches the woman in question, and I need to lean against the bar to prevent my knees from fully buckling and sending me to the ground.
Amelia is parting the crowd simply by walking with such determination and sex appeal. Her dress ensures that no one can get within three feet of her unless they want to be taken down by her full skirt. Every man she passes seems to have trouble catching their breath.
And then I notice her leg.
From the red-bottomed shoe, all the way up to the top of her thigh, her leg pops through the shimmering black fabric every time steps forward.
Cameras flash all around her as the media photographers try to get a shot of the moving siren.
Her hair bounces with big smooth curls, swaying all the way down her back and her lips look deviant in a luscious red.
I can see her searching the crowd as she smiles, walking past some of New York City’s elite in the process. Then she spots me, and her eyes lock onto mine.
“I think she’s here for you boss.” Hayden straightens me out and nudges me in her direction.
I will my body to regain its composure and manage to help close the distance between us, but not by much.
I’m still stunned as she gets closer to me. I don’t want to scare her off. I don’t want to say the wrong thing. My brain is scrambled at the moment and all I can think about isdon’t fuck this up.
It might be all in my head, but I feel the music get louder and can feel the bass in my bones as she smiles at me.
