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As speech-making time approached, Damien and Lex joined Amelia and Viv at a table near the front. He’d already informed the GM that he didn’t want to speak, or be acknowledged in any way. Tonight wasn’t about him; it was about the staff, the players and the fans. So he was comfortable just sitting with Viv and her friends, as well as several others at the table, enjoying the evening.
The dinner was, he was pleased to note, first-rate. Every Black Star Hotel had a top-notch catering team, and tonight’s did him proud.
“You have to track down whoever made the pastries and give him a big fat raise,” Viv said, cooing as she took another tiny bite of a chocolate-and-raspberry confection.
He leaned close to whisper in her ear. “I’ll have a tray sent up to the penthouse for later. I only want to eat it if I can lick it off your body.”
She shushed him, but also dropped a hand on his thigh, squeezing it. Excitement and energy snapped between them, the sexual tension as high as it had ever been. Perhaps it was because they were in public, unable to touch or kiss, or maybe it was that she looked so incredibly stunning and had drawn the attention of every man in the room. Whatever the reason, he suddenly wanted her with an intensity that made him shake.
“Wait, did I hear that right?” asked the woman seated next to him. “Are you the manager of this hotel?”
The woman and her husband, a doctor whose face had grown redder with each martini he’d consumed, had monopolized the conversation all evening. She kept leaning close to whisper to Damien, making him uncomfortable. He recognized a wealthy trophy wife on the prowl when he met one. There wasn’t a more recognizable species, nor one he hated more.
“Not exactly,” he said, not wanting to get into it.
Lex, sitting beside him, suddenly exclaimed, “Holy shit, I just realized who you are!”
Damien cast him a quelling glance.
“You’re Damien Black. As in Black Star Hotels and Black Ice LLC.” Lex frowned at Viv. “Jeez, why don’t you tell a guy? If I’d known who he was, I woulda arranged an interview.”
Before Viv could say anything, the doctor’s wife, her nails as red as her lips and her dress, dropped a hand on his arm.
“Oh, my, you own Black Star? We love your hotels.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ve never slept in more comfortable beds,” the woman said with a feline grin. “They’re like big playgrounds.”
Damien was about to pull his arm away when Viv, his vixen, leaped in, defending her turf.
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Viv said, her smile bright and disarming. “I’ve heard so many other older guests such as yourself say the same thing. Those orthopedic beds are perfect for aches, pains and rheumatism.” She glanced at Damien. “Right, babe?”
Damien held in a laugh. The woman in red appeared ready to spit nails, but Viv merely lifted her champagne glass and refocused her attention on Amelia.
Viv might have been protecting her territory in a woman’s game, but he found himself amused by it. Probably not what she’d been going for, but he enjoyed the feeling, anyway. Her hands-off-bitch-he’s-mine attitude only aroused him more, and he was dying to get out of here.
First, though, there was one more thing he wanted to do. He’d held Viv in his arms many times now, but never while there was music playing. “Dance with me?”
She glanced at the nearly empty dance floor, obviously wondering if she should make a spectacle of herself. But he knew she wouldn’t let him down. Finally, she nodded and let him take her hand to help her out of the chair. He led her out onto the dance floor and swept her into his arms.
Damien had been stuck in dance classes as a kid. He hadn’t remembered them in years, but when he drew Viv close, one arm around her waist, his other hand raised and entwined with hers, he found them coming back. It was schmaltzy and a little silly, but the steps of the waltz suddenly seemed exactly right. She looked like Cinderella, so why shouldn’t she be swept into a formal glide around the ballroom?
“You dance very well,” she said.
“So do you.”
“Where did you learn?”
“Madame Fleming’s Dance Academy for Young Ladies and Gentleman in Miami Beach.”
She snickered. “Old lady Sneed’s after-school dance-a-palooza, Gerryville YMCA.”
They spun and twirled, and out of the corner of his eye, Damien noticed the few other couples on the floor leaving it. Soon he and Viv were entirely alone, turning in broad circles, oblivious to everyone else but the music and the twinkling lights and each other.
They were halfway through a three-quarter turn, between a potted palm and the raised stage where the musicians sat, when he realized he was falling in love with her.
