A tiny smile flickered. “Those can’t be real.”
“Oh, that last one is. Her dress was covered in blood. Security had to escort him out.” I shook my head, letting admiration color my voice. “Most badass thing I’ve ever seen.”
Hannah laughed—a real one this time, brief but genuine.
“Point is, Alex knows better than to believe rumors started by bitter men trying to tear down successful women.”
The smile faded as quickly as it came. “That’s the thing, though. I’m just a bartender, and you’re COO at The Sinclair Group. No one’s going to believe you’d actually want me.”
The defeat in her voice hit me square in the chest. She was staring at her feet, shoulders hunched like she was bracing for the confirmation.
I tucked a finger under her chin, waiting until she looked up, her mouth pressed into a thin line.
“People believe what they want to believe, and anyone who saw us in that storage room would believe it,” I said, my thumb unconsciously brushing her jaw. “I sure as hell did.”
Her breath caught. The air between us changed—charged with something that felt too big for someone I’d only met two weeks ago.
I should step back, create distance between us. But I didn’t move, and neither did she.
“I don’t care what you do for a living,” I said, voice rougher than I intended. “You’re brilliant with numbers, you’re funny, you’re beautiful…”
The streetlight caught the gold flecks in her brown eyes. She wasn’t pulling away or deflecting, just looking at me like she was trying to figure out if I meant it.
And I did. That was the problem.
Because I couldn’t stop thinking about how her body molded to mine in that storage room, how her lips had tasted like chocolate and peppermint.
Not helpful thoughts when I didn’t have time for a relationship. Especially not a long distance one, with me drowning in work in Manhattan while she was two hundred miles away.
But I was coming back for the wedding anyway. And if Sebastian was going to be there…
An idea flickered at the edge of my mind. Something that could help both of us.
“Come on,” I said, offering my arm. “Let’s get you out of the cold.”
She hesitated for only a second before slipping her hand into the crook of my elbow. Her fingers were freezing, even through my coat. By the time we reached the apartment, I’dworked through the whole plan. It made perfect sense. Practical. Mutually beneficial.
I just had to figure out how to ask her.
Hannah
Connorheldthedooropen for me, and as I passed into the warmth of the lobby, I caught his brow furrowed like he was working through a problem.
And this time, the problem wasme. Again.
We entered the elevator in silence. I punched the button for the third floor, and as the doors slid closed, my mind replayed the last hour of the party.
I’d kept my head down after the Sebastian disaster, focusing on pouring drinks and keeping my shit together. Avoiding eye contact. Especially avoiding the piano where Victoria and Cruz performed their duet. Two weeks ago, Victoria’s singing had cracked something open in my chest, and I’d caught Connor in an emotional moment of his own.
Tonight, the thought of watching them made my throat tight. Made me remember how stupid I’d been to think Connor and I had any kind of real connection. We’d kissed once, then he’d stopped me and left as soon as he could. And then I’d let him rescue me from Sebastian like some damsel in distress.
Then I’d been spiraling on the walk home. Instead of telling me I was being dramatic, Connor calmed me down without making me feel small, radiating that calm, ‘I have the situation under control’ energy that made me want to trust him, even though I barely knew him.
Now he was going to let me down easy. Tell me tonight was… what? A mistake? A favor? Pity?
The elevator dinged. We walked down the hallway in silence, my keys jingling as I fumbled to unlock the apartment door. My hands were still shaking—from the cold, from the adrenaline crash, from not knowing what happened next—whether I’d be sleeping in his bed tonight or on Teresa’s lumpy couch.
I pushed open the apartment door, shrugging off his jacket. The apartment was quiet—Teresa was at Eddie’s house. We were alone.
