Page 49 of Bossy Nights


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“I’ve known Barclay for years, and I’ve never seen him so possessive over a woman. Please don’t look over your shoulder, but you should see the look he’s giving me now.” I fight the urge to turn around and keep my eyes forward. “I don’t believe he likes me monopolizing your attention either. Well done, Tessa.”

Before I can reply, Barclay’s at my side and congratulates Don one last time, though he shakes his hand without a smile. Then, Barclay guides me out of the ballroom with his hand on the small of my back. His purposeful stride has me walking nearly double-time to keep up with him.

“Don seems very comfortable with you,” Barclay clips, pressing his hand harder against me, like he’s trying to drive home a point.

“He’s a sweet man who shared a lot of things with me,” I say, but I can’t ignore the irritated tone in Barclay’s voice. I look up at him to find him staring out into the lobby with his jaw clenched. Maybe Don’s right about how Barclay is with me. A girl can only hope.

“Don’s been called a lot of things, Tessa, but sweet isn’t one of them,” he scoffs. “Forget him. We need to decide on how to handle the press outside. Lawrence, the same driver who drove us to Connecticut, is waiting at the curb for me. I think it’s best if you take the car back.”

“Okay,” I say, and my hope falls to my feet in a silent thud.

I don’t want to end up with my face on Page Six tomorrow—my ass and hair was enough, thank you very much—but I don’t want the night to end either.

As we walk through the lobby, I stare down at the ground to conceal my disappointment at us parting ways. I imagine he has to attend the after-party Don talked about earlier at the table. But I wanted to be with Barclay tonight, and fight the urge to beg him not to go.

We come to a stop right before the exit to the building. Barclay places a finger under my chin, and I look up at him.

“What’s with the pouty face?” he asks, furrowing his brows.

“I wanted to continue the night back at the hotel … with you,” I mumble, hoping I don’t sound desperate and insecure, even though I am, in all regards.

After meeting everyone around the table, it was clear to me how wide apart our worlds are, and maybe it hit him too. He’s experienced and the CEO of a company I’d be happy to have a job sweeping the floors at. It would be a start and more than I have now, which is a big fat nothing.

“Sweet girl,” he says with a reassuring smile and a glint in his eyes. It’s the same look he had earlier tonight when he kissed me within an inch of my life. “I’ll have Victoria drop me by the hotel, and will be knocking on your door in twenty minutes tops.”

I exhale the breath I was holding. “You’re not going to the party Don mentioned?”

“No, Tessa. Tonight, I have a party with only you.” His voice is husky and commanding. “No one else is invited. Just us. How does that sound?”

His words, combined with the hunger in his eyes, makes me feel lightheaded. I reach for his bicep, grabbing a handful of the silken wool.

“Yes, please,” I breathe.

Barclay bends forward. The needy look in his eyes intensifies.

“When my stylist helped you choose a dress today, she left something for you, right?” I nod, remembering the Saks box wrapped securely with a ribbon.

I left it untouched sitting on the counter above the mini-bar. His stylist, Gloria, instructed me not to open it. I’d fiddled with the ribbon, wondering if one quick peek inside was really that big of a deal—I was the kid who snuck around before Christmas trying to locate my presents, after all—but I didn’t, for him.

“Go back to the hotel, open it, and get comfortable.” He leans even closer as he speaks. His words tickle the skin behind my ear, and I shudder. “Now, get going.”

“So bossy,” I quip back with a full-blown smile, overjoyed our night isn’t ending. He tilts his head toward the door with a mischievous grin, and I walk away, though it’s hard to leave his side.

I glimpse over my shoulder and see Victoria approaching him. She looks between Barclay and me like she did a few nights ago at the restaurant, but this time, she smiles at me, and I wave goodbye, hoping to see her again in a less formal setting. I bet she has a few stories to tell about growing up with Barclay.

A man opens the entrance door for me, and I glance down the steps toward the curb. I spot Lawrence standing by the car and head in his direction. I hope he speeds to the hotel, because I can’t wait to find out what’s in the box.

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