"Good." I let the word hang between us. "Because I wanted to be there."
"You said you had a fitting."
"I finished early. Told Roman his groomsmen could handle the final decisions without me."
"You blew off your best friend's wedding fitting for my family dinner?"
"I did."
"Why?"
I could give her the easy answer. The safe one. The one that establishes appropriate work boundaries between us.
Instead, I lean closer, my voice dropping. "Because the thought of you sitting at that table without me bothered me more than it should have."
Harper's eyes widen. "That's surprisingly?—“
"Honest. Which I'm trying to be with you." I reach out, my fingers finding a strand of her hair that's escaped her ponytail. "Even when it's inconvenient."
She doesn't pull away. If anything, she leans into my touch as I tuck the strand of hair behind her ear, my fingers lingering against her jaw.
"I don't do things halfway, Harper. You should know that by now."
"I'm starting to figure that out."
"Are you?"
She nods, and I can feel her pulse racing under my fingertips. The car hits a pothole, and Harper sways toward me. I catch her waist, steadying her, but I don't let go.
"Victor," she breathes.
"Yes?"
"We're—This—You do know that we’re in the back of your fancy car?"
“Yes, I am.”
“And that your driver is right there."
"The partition is down. I can fix that." I press the button, and the privacy screen rises smoothly. "Better?"
Her golden-green eyes have gone dark. "That depends."
"On what?"
"On what you plan to do now that we have privacy."
It’s a test. To see whether I’ll pull back, throw up the icy shields along with every other frosty wall I’ve ever erected between us.
Instead, I pull Harper closer, my hand tightening just below her ribs.
"I need to tell you something first," I say.
"That sounds ominous."
"It's business. Mostly." I pause, watching her carefully. "I'm flying to Vegas on Wednesday."
Her expression shifts. "Vegas?"
