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“I’m trying to eat.” She holds two fingers to her lips and pretends to be nauseous, which is pretty funny. “Would you mind going in my place? It’s a paid gig, and I’d feel better telling him I can’t do it if I could offer you up as my replacement.”
“You mean human sacrifice?”
She chuckles. “To be clear, Daniel won’t be your date either.”
“Good. I’d hate to be sick on this lovely croissant.”
“But he’ll want you to stay close so you can bail him out of any uncomfortable conversations.”
I could do that. Mingling at functions used to be second nature to me. I could use the extra pay. Plus, and this is what ultimately tips me, a boujie gathering will attract a lot of fancy folk. The Owens might be in attendance.
“What’s the actual date?” Not that I have plans on any Saturday night.
After she tells me, I hear myself accept with, “I could use the overtime.”
“Thanks, Vivian!” She brightens. “If I can return the favor, let me know.”
My heart races at the possibility of seeing Nate again. How disturbing. I frown.
“The dress code is black and white,” she tells me before returning to her own sandwich. “I’m sure Daniel will wear that horrible suit that makes him look like an undertaker.”
I know just the one she means.
“And, hey, the Owens might even be there.” She waggles her eyebrows.
“I guess anything’s possible,” I say as if I hadn’t thought of it yet.
I smile before taking another bite of my sandwich. I’ll have to wear a dress Nate hasn’t seen yet.
Just in case.
Nate
“An evening under the stars,” Benji reads from the invitation sitting on my desk. He stopped by Grand Marin to take me to lunch but I’ve yet to finish returning emails. “So original.”
“Those events are all the same,” I say distractedly before closing my laptop.
“When are you going to hire a new assistant?” My brother sounds peeved. He has no problem handing over his to-do list. Archer and I tend to hold ours close. Archer because he’s a control freak and me…for sort of the same reason. It’s hard to trust someone else with my baby, aka whatever site I’m currently building. I wasn’t kidding when I told Vivian I do my own dirty work.
“That last email I fired off was in response to a new virtual assistant,” I inform Benji. “Happy?”
“Ecstatic,” he answers, deadpan. “Took you long enough.”
I have a shit-ton of work to do. I’m fooling myself trying to handle it on my own. My last virtual assistant, Sylvia, quit after she became pregnant. “I’ve been busy.”
“You like doing everything yourself. Admit it.”
“It’s the hustler in me.” I pocket my keys and lock my temporary office. The drywall I demolished has been replaced. Beck wasn’t happy about having to redo the job, but he did it anyway. Benji hasn’t let me live it down.
He knocks on the wall as he walks by. “Did you see her again?”
“Beyond dinner?” I ask. No use pretending I don’t know who he’s talking about. “No.”
“Really.” As he holds the door open for me, I blank my expression for clues that I give a fuck. I do, so I’m careful not to bat an eyelid.
I walk toward my Tesla, sweat already beading my brow. It’s a scorcher today. I’m anticipating settling into its perfectly cooled interior. Gotta love technology.
“You’re interested, though,” he observes. “I can tell.”
