“Okay.” The driver shrugged.
I had to practically run in my pumps to keep up with Steve’s pace. But he was right. If we had stayed in the car, it would’ve been another half hour before we reached the lobby. He gripped my hand tighter as he zigzagged his way through the throng. Several women shot nasty glares our way when Steve shoved them out of the way.
“Is that necessary?” I yelled in his ear over the loud music.
“What? They wouldn’tmove.”
When we reached the front of the line, a bouncer cut us off. He was the kind of guy I’d expect to see in a place like this—huge, all muscle, and with a dour-looking face. “Do you have an invitation?”
“Yes.” Steve reached for the back pocket of his jeans and pulled an enveloped he’d folded in three.
The bouncer’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as he unfolded the paper and flashed a light on it. He peered at us for what felt like hours and then reached for the red cord. “Welcome to the Crucible, Mr. and Mrs. Moretti.”
I cut my gaze to Steve, and he squeezed my hand in response. The fucker. This wasn’t his invitation. All thoughts of protesting for having either a fake invitation or one that wasn’t his own faded as soon as we stepped into the super fancy lobby with shiny marble floors and a ginormous chandelier hanging overhead. I never knew a place like this one existed in the middle of Midtown.
We rode the elevator to the thirtieth floor. When the door opened, we were greeted by a man dressed in a tuxedo. He ushered us toward the bar and introduced us as Mr. and Mrs. Moretti. The bartender smiled and promptly got started on our drinks, which we hadn’t ordered.
“Drinks are included, so don’t complain,” Steve whispered in my ear.
“What the hell?” I yanked my hand away from him. “Did you steal this invitation?”
“Shh.” He glowered at me. “My boss is out of town. I happened to be there when the envelope was delivered.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose as heat rushed to my cheeks. “You know it’s afederal offense to interfere with mail.”
“I thought you were a computer geek. Now you’re a lawyer?” He rolled his eyes then turned away from me to grab the glass of whiskey.
“Mrs. Moretti, enjoy.” The bartender set a glass of red wine in front me.
Growing up in Bensonhurst, New York, aka the Little Italy of Brooklyn, I wasn’t used to places like this. I’d never even traveled outside of New York. Dad had always said, “We have everything we could ever want right here in Bensonhurst. Why would you wanna go anywhere else?” I never agreed with him. I ached to leave town, move to the city, and meet new people, maybe travel to Europe one day. I’d had to get a passport first. But that was on my list.
Thinking of my list and my future plans reminded me of why we were here tonight. Steve wanted to propose.
I sipped my wine, and omigod it was delicious. It made me think of dark chocolate and berries. We were here now. How we got here didn’t matter. What mattered was that Steve loved me.
“The wine is incredible.”
“Yeah. My drink, too.” He craned his neck, checking out the game tables on the other end of the room. “I bet Mr. Moretti has an account. We could make some real cash.”
“That’s stealing.”
He rolled his eyes again and set his empty tumbler on the bar. “Why do you always have to be riding my ass? We’re already here.”
“I thought you wanted to be with me. Isn’t that why you invited me?” A lump churned in my stomach as I slowly realized the night wasn’t going to end with a proposal. Just another night of Steve drinking and making stupid decisions.
“The invitation was for a couple. I needed a girl.”
“What?” My Brooklyn accent came out loud and clear, like it did every time I was pissed. Because I was pissed now. I’d let Steve drag me out of work, make me complicit in his crime, and now he was flat out telling me he only brought me here because he needed a warm body with boobs? “In case you didn’t know, today was our first anniversary of when we started dating. I thought you were going to propose.” I grabbed the fresh glass of wine the bartender slid across the counter and took a big gulp, then another, and one more just to finish off the pour.
Steve stepped back. He knew that once I got to this point of fury, messing with me was a huge mistake. He stared for the longest time, then stood taller then dropped his gaze to my crotch. “Why in the hell would I want to marry you?”
Tears stung my eyes. His tone implied I wasn’t woman enough to be with him. “We practically live together.”
“Your apartment is closer to the train. Jeez, you do me one favor and now you think you own me?” He knocked back the rest of his drink.
“Do you even love me?”
“You know what? I’m tired of this. Your tears, your silly plans. Your head is always in the clouds. I’m done.” He started to walk away.
