No. Nope. I won’t go there, not tonight. We had a deal. Forget for a little while. Even if he doesn’t know exactly what he’s agreeing to.
Dominic: You need to return the favor.
Izzy: You’re not going to ask me for nudes, are you?
Dominic: No, not yet.
I find the closest mirror and adjust my hair, aiming the camera so it cuts off halfway up my torso, showing my lace-covered cleavage. I’m wearing more makeup than usual, especially around my eyes, but not much else.
Izzy: Disappointing.
I attach the image.
Dominic: Holy hell, Izzy. You look incredible.
Izzy: It’s Photoshop.
I text with self-deprecating sarcasm.
Dominic: You’re angelic.
Izzy: And you’re dangerously close to love-bombing.
Dominic: Doesn’t that rely on it all being false? I’ll be outside your apartment building in two minutes.
Izzy: I’ll come down and meet you.
I reply and put my phone in my handbag.
He’s already outside when I get downstairs, standing next to the limo with a small package in his hand. He gives it to me, our fingers brushing. I open it to find an open envelope without any writing on it.
“What’s this?” I murmur.
He looks at me almost as if he’s nervous, a boyish look in his eyes despite his strong, firm features. “Take a look,” he says. “Something a little different.”
I tip the contents into my hand. It’s a voucher for ten hours of violin practice with a well-regarded virtuoso in the city. Tears brim in my eyes. I’m starting to annoy myself with all this emotion. But can you blame me?
“This is too much,” I whisper.
“Really? I almost bought you a violin?—”
“What? No! Thatistoo much.”
He smiles, nodding. “Somehow, I knew you’d feel that way. I think this is a fair middle ground.”
“You don’t have to?—”
He closes my fingers over the voucher when I attempt to give it back to him. “Take it, or burn it. Your choice.”
“You’re impossible,” I mutter, putting the voucher in my bag.
“Champagne?” he asks, opening the door to the limo.
I have to admit. I feel like a princess when he offers his hand and helps me to climb inside. When my uncle gave me this mission, I didn’t expect—No, not tonight. I won’t let him ruin this even if it’s just for tonight.
As we pull away from the curb, Dom pours a glass and raises his in a toast. “To the music of this night,” he says.
I smile as we clink flutes, warmth spreading through my belly that’s only partly because of the champagne. “I love that,” I say. “To the music…”
