I’m only torn about what to do next for half a minute.
I pick up my phone, open my email, and scan until I find what I’m looking for.
The email’s subject line isProject Return. My stomach twists into a knot. This is the last thing I want to do, but something kept me from RSVP’ing with my regrets. My finger hovers over the link to reply.
Do I really want to mingle with a crowd of people I was desperate to get away from?
No.
But I want to help Sin more than I to want keep my father’s world hermetically sealed away from this part of my life.
I throw caution into the wind and hope for the best. “I have two tickets to that fundraiser on Saturday.”
“Huh?” The look of genuine confusion on her face is so damn cute I almost smile. But the pit of dread in my gut won’t let me.
I clear my throat and attempt to relax my shoulders. I put myphone down and tilt it so she can read the screen. “Here. See?”
Her eyes bug out and her lips pucker and twist as if she’s confused.
“Is this not the same event?”
She raises her eyebrows. “I am not—I’m not pocket watching okay? It’s obvious you have money, but wealthy people are a dime a dozen in DC. Butthisevent is for dignitaries, people with security clearances. The VP, the mayor of DC, the governor of Maryland will be there. How didyouget tickets?”
Her incredulity is so naked and loud it makes me laugh. “My father was a big donor in his heyday.”
“He must have been a whale,” she says.
I nod, my collar suddenly tight. “Something like that.”
I’ve seen the glimmer of greed often enough to spot it in even the most practiced parasite in waiting. There’s only dubious hesitation in her expression.
She crosses her arms over her chest and eyes me with undisguised skepticism. “Soyouhave tickets to this event tomorrow? Or your father does?”
I force a smile. “Me. I’m his social proxy when he’s not in town. I have a plus one, and you’re it if that’s what you want.”
She throws her arms around me and presses her face into my neck. “Oh my God, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I hug her back and savor the warm softness of her body and the sweet smell of jasmine in her hair.
She pulls away too soon. “I need to get ready. I don’t have anything to wear. I came over here planning to have a pity party, and you turned it all around.”
“It was timing and luck. I’m tempted to ask what are the odds, but when it comes to us, that question is starting to sound silly.”
“Right?” She smiles but it’s strained.
“What’s wrong?”
She shakes her head. “I’m grateful. I am. It’s just.” She lets out a heavy sigh. “I workhard. I have vision. I’m dedicated to my craft, I take risks and somehow, I find myself relying on luck to get ahead.” She looks away and down and bites the corner of her mouth. “Or maybe I’m just kidding myself that my efforts alone should be enough. My editor thinks I’m trying to walk before I can crawl.”
I wish I could throttle this editor person. “Don’t listen to her. You’re talented and you’ve got good instincts. And luck would never find you if you weren’t ready for it.”
She presses a hand to the base of her throat and turns to look at me with a smile on her face. “Thank you for saying that.”
Our eyes meet and my heart skips a beat at the vulnerability in hers. “It’s just the truth, Sin.”
The smile she gives me is sweet, but her eyes are full of something that makes me want to lean in and bite that full lower lip of hers.
The air between us crackles and her gaze drifts to my mouth. I’m so tempted to lean in and kiss her.
