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How many times had she mentioned security now? “So I was right when I said you were ambitious.”
“Hell, yes, I am.”
“And your drive to succeed at whatever you do is something I’ve got to admire. But,” he added while their drinks arrived and she at last pulled her hand from his to reach for her lime iced tea, “you have to admit it isn’t the safest job for a single woman to have.”
She took her time sipping her tea. “I assume you’re saying that because of how we met.”
“I’m saying it because it’s true. No ring on your finger. No man by your side. A brilliant, beautiful woman like you is like a treasure just begging for the world to come and steal it. If there’s no visible guard by your side, the assholes of the world think it’s open season on you.”
“It’s the twenty-first century, Dalton. A woman doesn’t need a man to make her way in the world.”
Fuck. “That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Actually, I get what you’re saying—a woman all on her own is like a gazelle all on its own. The predators of the world start circling the moment they see an opportunity.”
“Exactly.”
“Luckily for me, I’ve got all my defenses up and running. No one’s going to get a close shot at me ever again.”
That was good to hear, but he wasn’t done. “Then there’s the ugly underbelly that exists beneath all the glitz and glamour of the party life.”
“Such as?”
So she wanted a list, did she? “Drunk assholes who forget what the word no means, for one. Then there are the people who think it’s not a party until someone ODs on the latest drug, or some dumbass fight breaks out that may or may not end up in my ER with someone bleeding out from a damn gunshot wound. In my line of work, I see it every day.”
She winced, a clear concession he’d made a point. “Luckily for me, I don’t. My assignments, at least when it comes to covering parties, usually have a red carpet and paparazzi involved.”
“Parties are parties, beautiful. People have a way of thinking they can get away with all sorts of sketchy shit once the sun goes down. Shit they wouldn’t dream of pulling in the sober light of day.”
“That’s a broad generalization, but I get what you’re saying,” she said with a slight tilt of her head. “That’s the reason why I don’t stay too long at parties or nightclubs anymore.”
His eyes narrowed. “So you’ve changed how you do your job since you got dosed?”
Her nod seemed reluctant. “I’ve changed since I got dosed. I’m kind of paranoid about how I get to and from places now—I’m always thinking ahead so I’m never caught alone with people I don’t know and trust. I no longer think I’m bulletproof just because I’m a reporter, and not an actual partygoer like all the other people who are attending a function. I don’t like being out late, because people have a tendency to get crazy after midnight. I bring my own water bottle, and I never sample whatever food is provided for the guests.”
“Damn, that’s a lot.” He studied her cameo-perfect face, noting the tension shadowing her sapphire blue eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for you staying on your toes. I’m just wondering why the hell you’re staying with a job that keeps you at red-alert every minute that you’re doing it. That’s got to be exhausting.”
“That’s another reason why I don’t stay out late anymore. No one can stay at that level of alertness without eventually losing their minds or dropping from sheer exhaustion.” Then she shook her head as if to dispel dark thoughts. “It’s been tough getting over being dosed, but I’ve found ways to still do my job without being afraid of it. And the perks are more than worth it.”
“There are no perks worth that amount of stress.”
“Believe me, there are.”
“Like what?”
“Like getting to step foot inside the third-best college prep school on the entire continent—Chicago Arts and Technology Education.”
Jesus. The way she said it, as if each fucking syllable gave her pleasure, hit him right in the dick. “You’re saying you’ve got an interest in CATE?”
“Interest is putting it mildly.” Her smile was a work of art, and he immediately dedicated himself to making sure it stayed front and center for the rest of the evening. “I even produced several videos on trying to get into CATE when I was a teen.”
“So you were that hooked on it, even back then?”
“Of course. Getting into CATE was my ultimate dream as a kid, and not only because it would’ve proven to my grandmother I wasn’t destined to be trash like my mother before me. But sadly, no dice.”
Seriously, that goddamn old hag needed to be grateful she was already dead. “Their loss, beautiful. They should’ve let you in.”
“Right?” She laughed, and instinctively he moved closer to revel in its warmth. “But even though they rejected my many, many admission forms, I’ve always wanted to at least have the opportunity to see those hallowed halls. Thanks to my job as head Gossip columnist and pop-culture writer, I now have the opportunity to see it all during their upcoming annual scholarship fundraiser.”
“The CATE Fete, where you’re dressing up as a golden bottle of poison.”
“Well, if you’re going to a masquerade ball, you need to do it up right, don’t you think?”
“If you say so.” A corner of his mouth curled, and he couldn’t help but shake his head. “Where’d you go to high school, since CATE was stupid enough to not recognize how fucking amazing you are?”
Again she laughed, proving beyond all doubt that a sound could be an aphrodisiac. “Westinghouse College Prep was good enough to let me in. Though, since it’s a public school, they kinda had no choice. And since it was close to the local impound, we got to enjoy the thrill of going on lockdown at least a couple times a year whenever some idiot brought a gun to negotiate the release of their impounded car.”
“Shit,” he muttered, imagining a terrified teenaged Hannah huddled in a classroom while waiting for the all-clear to sound. No wonder she hadn’t immediately quit her job after being attacked. Life had made sure she came equipped with a spine made of steel. “Westinghouse might not be in the best neighborhood, but they had a top-tier athletics program. They beat us every time we hit the basketball court.”
“You played basketball? For which school?”
