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So I only shake my head. “Not tonight. I’ll be on the phone all night with the legal team. It’ll just keep you awake.”
“From the guest room?” Her lips curl in wry amusement.
“You’ve never heard me shouting at Little Key’s lawyers.”
“That’s fair.”
I turn my gaze to the screen as the previews fade, the screen goes dark, and then the flicker of the opening credits and music rises.
This disquiet feels wrong.
“Tomorrow night,” I say impulsively.
Me, impulsive? Ha.
This little brat is scrambling my wires.
“Would you like to go ballroom dancing?”
A stunned look flies at me. “Wait. You’re actually asking me instead of telling me five minutes before I have to be ready?”
Teasing. It restores some of the ease between us, and I smile slightly.
“I said I’d try.” I snort.
“Shh!” rises from behind us again, more irritable than ever.
We both slouch down guiltily in our seats.
She stifles a giggle behind her hand, waiting before whispering, “You’d better get me a nice dress.”
I can only hold my smile as I sigh and settle in to find out what kind of atrocity the rest of this film will be.
“I will,” I promise, dragging her hand to my lips. “I won’t have my woman looking anything less than fucking magnificent.”
For all that Elle insisted I buy her a nice dress, she’s been cagey about letting me actually see it.
I hadn’t even meant to go to the political fundraiser tonight.
I’ve already made my donations, and I’m not a fan of rubbing elbows with politicians or their orbiters, especially when anyone who shows their face is assumed to be currying favor for their own interests.
I have no need for that shit.
I make my own way, and I’ve staked my career on my good reputation alone.
Still, when I remembered the event had ballroom dancing, and I thought she might enjoy it, how could I resist?
We’ll treat it as another publicly staged event. The wealthy donor introducing his fiancée to high-society movers and shakers.
Really, I just want to see her light up again.
I haven’t seen her at all since Rick dropped her off yesterday with my credit card tucked in her purse.
I had to assume she went back to that same couture boutique where the staff know her, which is becoming her favorite store.
So I’m a little surprised when my bank alerts ping me with a four-figure purchase at a shop called Luly Yang.
Isn’t that a bridal store?
