AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I hadn’t been sure if she would actually wear the dress. I had almost expected to come to the party to find her stubbornly in her own cloths with that defiant tilt to her chin which made me want to conquer her that much more. But to see her all decked out in what I had chosen for her, put on display like a beautiful work of art… it made the night that much more interesting to me.
“Mr. Fitzgerald,” she said, and for once I could see that she was struggling to keep her mask of professionalism in place. “You’re here.”
She looked like she didn’t know whether to be relieved or upset about that, but that suited me just fine. My mind was still lingering on how the dress clung to her every curve, my body thrumming to reach out and touch her.
“That I am,” I answered calmly.
She had taken her hair down. It was the first time I had ever seen her without her severe bun, and I had never realized just how long her hair was. Falling in thick, gentle waves, it went almost halfway down her back. If only I could just wrap my fingers up in it and pull her towards me…
“According to the guest list the entertainment division gave me, almost everyone is here. I wrote a list of who might be the most advantageous for us to speak to, so do you-”
I stepped forward, raising a hand to lower the tablet that she had brought up to hide her face. She looked up at me, her green eyes wide before she caught herself and that impenetrable demeanor slid back into place.
“None of that for tonight. People can smell it when you have an angle. We’ll just walk the party and have whatever conversations that present themselves.”
“That doesn’t sound very efficient,” she argued. Because of course that would be her objection. Not the dress, not the shoes, not having to work a ridiculously long day on top of a ridiculously long week. No, it was the thought of wasting time, of suboptimal planning that had those full lips of hers contradicting me.
“This is one of the very few occasions where efficiency is not a good thing.” I offered her my arm, but she just looked at me. I swore smoke was coming out of her ears as her mind churned, but eventually she just gestured to the catering table.
“Can I get you a drink, Mr. Fitzgerald?” She asked instead.
Oh well. The arm thing was a gamble as it was. “Sure, lead away.” I said. Normally I wasn’t a following kind of guy, but I wouldn’t mind seeing the view as she walked away.
It was everything that I had been hoping for, each of her round cheeks barely contained within the satin dress. It was something else to watch them try to fight past each other, and I barely managed to avert my eyes in time before she turned back to me with an empty cup.
“What would you like?”
“I’ll take a water bottle,” I said. It seemed like she barely contained rolling her eyes before turning back to one of the workers at the table. She said something I couldn’t quite catch, and then they handed her two water bottles.
“Here you are, Mr. Fitzgerald,” she said, handing one of them over to me.
I took it from her but didn’t unscrew the top yet. Gesturing to her own, I raised one of my eyebrows. “You thirsty?”
“Yeah. It seems that having surprise responsibilities that involve a whole lot of social interactions can lead to dry mouth.”
It was the first time that she had mouthed off to me since that one time about the notes and it took quite a bit to hold back my smile. I liked the way she challenged me, keeping me on my toes.
“Are you telling me that you aren’t a social butterfly, Ms. Viello?”
She seemed to realize exactly what she said to me, her cheeks flushing before she quickly recovered. “Did I give you an impression otherwise?”
“Honestly, I can’t say. For working almost a month together, I don’t know much about you.”
“Well, that’s not true,” she answered. “You know that I’m quick, efficient, good with small details and the job itself. What else is there?”
I couldn’t help a short laugh. It was maybe the longest sentence that she had said to me since the whole note situation, and I wanted to hear more. “Certainly, there’s more to life than your job.”
She glanced up at me sidelong, her thick lashes obscuring much of her expression. “That seems strange, coming from you.”
“Does it?” I asked, turning to face her fully. She kept herself in profile relative to myself, but I didn’t mind.
“Yeah, you’re Mr. Fitzgerald, who built his own media empire all on his own from the young age of twenty. You’re not exactly known for taking it easy.”
