"Having second thoughts?" Her voice remains steady, but I catch the flicker of vulnerability in her eyes.
"God, no," I assure her quickly, tightening my grip on her hand. "But I'm not used to feeling this... unguarded. Especially not in a professional context."
Understanding softens her features. "We can slow down if you need to. Set some boundaries."
"That's just it," I admit. "I don't want to. For the first time in my life, I don't want to calculate every move, analyze every potential outcome. I just want to be with you, consequences be damned."
Her smile is radiant, warming me despite the falling snow. "Atticus Morgan, throwing caution to the wind? I never thought I'd see the day."
"You bring it out in me." It's the truest thing I've ever said. "You always have."
She rises on her toes, pressing a soft kiss to my lips, brief but undeniably intimate, right there in the center of town for anyone to see.
"For the record," she murmurs as she pulls away, "I feel the same way."
Before I can respond, a familiar voice calls Sloane's name. We turn to find Tessa waving from the doorway of The Velvet Book across the street.
"Rain check on this conversation?" Sloane asks, already waving back.
"Go," I tell her. "I need to check in with Marcus anyway. Dinner at six-thirty? I'll pick you up at your place."
"It's a date." She hesitates, then adds, "An actual date. With your mother. God, what are we doing?"
I laugh, feeling lighter than I have in years. "Figuring it out, remember?"
She squeezes my hand once more before releasing it. "See you tonight. And Atticus? Wear the red tie. It brings out your eyes."
I watch her cross the street to greet Tessa, her confident stride and easy smile reminding me yet again why I've been half in love with her for years.
My phone buzzes with a text from my mother:The chef requires dietary restrictions by 3pm. Also, Charlotte Whittington sends her regrets for the gala. Such a pity.
I smile, typing back:No restrictions. And I'm sure I'll survive the disappointment.
Her response is immediate:I'm sure you will, darling. Particularly with Ms. Parker around to console you.
I shake my head, pocketing my phone without responding. Clearly, my mother knows more than she's letting on, or at least suspects enough to abandon her matchmaking plans. Tonight's dinner will be enlightening, to say the least.
As I head back toward the HQ building, snowflakes melting on my shoulders, I find myself looking forward to it with a surprising lack of dread. Because despite my mother's inevitable smugness and probing questions, I'll have Sloane beside me, my best friend, my... whatever we're becoming.
And somehow, that makes all the difference.
Chapter 6
Sloane
"Hold still," Jenna scolds, adjusting the hem of the emerald silk dress that clings to my curves in ways both flattering and slightly terrifying. "I can't pin this if you keep fidgeting."
"Sorry," I mumble, trying to stand straighter. "Nervous energy."
In the reflection of the full-length mirror Jenna brought to my office, I barely recognize myself. The dress Atticus chose, delivered in a suspiciously large box this afternoon, is unlike anything I've ever worn. The color makes my hazel eyes look more green than brown. It's both elegant and daring, with a neckline that dips just low enough to be interesting without crossing into inappropriate.
"Nervous about what?" Jenna asks around a mouthful of pins. "The charity auction isn't until next week."
I hesitate, unsure how much to share. Jenna's become a friend over the past few days, but she's also Atticus's employee. "Just a lot going on. Vivienne's arrival, the holiday events, the gala preparations..."
"Mmm-hmm." She doesn't sound convinced. "And does any of this nervousness have to do with the fact that Atticus came in wearing the same clothes as yesterday?"
Heat floods my cheeks. "I don't know what you mean."
