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Amelia clicked her tongue, but the corner of her lips kicked. The dull thumping in his chest eased off the tiniest bit.
He grinned, then said, “You just need practice. Any one of the guys at this bar would be lucky to spend five minutes talking to you. All you have to do is go up to one of them and strike up a conversation.”
Amelia stared at him for a beat, then gently shook her head. “Leo, you saying ‘just strike up a conversation’ is like saying ‘just build a rocket ship and go colonize Mars.’ It’s not that easy.”
“Sure it is.” He looked up and saw a familiar face leaning against the bar. Although everything in him rebelled, he made himself say, “There’s your barista friend. Just go up to him and say, ‘Hi…’”
“Ben.”
Ugh.Ben. “Say, ‘Hi, Ben. Nice shoes.’”
Amelia stared at him for a beat like he’d suddenly started speaking Finnish. “I’m supposed to tell him he has nice shoes?”
“It doesn’t matter what you say. It’s just a little compliment you can use as an icebreaker. He’ll say thanks, and you can ask him where he got them, and then you’re off. Easy.”
The words seemed to take a while to penetrate, but Amelia finally let out a long breath. She straightened her shoulders and gave Leo a curt nod, then glanced over her shoulder at the bar. “Okay,” she said. “I can do this.”
“You definitely can.”
“I’m doing it.”
“You’re going to kill it.”
“Off I go.”
“Go, Amelia, go.”
Her lips curled a tiny bit more, and she threw him an unreadable glance. Then she spun on her heels, huffed out a harsh breath, and started stomping toward the other man.
It killed Leo to watch her walk away. It felt like a little piece of him being torn out of his body. It waswrong. She should be beside him, shivering at the touch of his thumb against her wrist. She should be flicking her gray eyes up at him in exasperation, giving him her little grumpy frown.
He watched her hips shift with every step she took away from him, downing the rest of his drink. She walked with purpose, like an army advancing in war. The barista hadn’t spotted her yet, but he’d see her in the next three seconds. Leo gripped his glass and tried to regulate his breathing. Five more steps until she was beside him. Three. One—
Amelia made a hard left and scurried around the gently curved bar. A sign for the washroom hung above her head as she turned to look at Leo. She slapped her hands on her cheeks and made a silent screaming face, like she was McCauley Culkin inHome Alone, then hurried down the hallway and out of sight.
Leo laughed. Relief swamped him so fast he could do nothing but try to breathe through the feeling.
He couldn’t continue this. She was too cute. Too charming. Too damn perfect.
After tonight, he’d figure something out with Fred—he’d come clean about the fiancée thing or cook up a suitable breakup story. He couldn’t keep spending time with Amelia and pretend that he didn’t want to drag her to bed. She was far too good for him, and Leo wouldn’t sully her life by being the guy who fucked her and left her the next morning.
A buzz in his pocket drew his attention. Then, a few seconds later, another buzz. He pulled his phone out and frowned. There was an email from Fred’s assistant and a text from Fred himself.
Fred:Nice to finally meet your lady, son. I’ve had Percival put both your names up for the scavenger hunt on Thursday, and I’ve upgraded your room to the forest-facing side of the residence. You know we’re a family here. Glad you finally understand that.
Leo read the text three times while despair settled over his skin like a slick of oil. He leaned back in his chair and groaned, dropping his head in his hands.
Fred’s insistence on family wasn’t just corporate lip service. Their team was small; less than a hundred people made up the core group of Goodhew’s company, with another few hundred contractors and temporary employees. They planned lavish parties all around the world, so networking and relationship-building was a key part of the work. Being one of Fred’s event directors was a highly sought-after position that paid well and had endless perks.
Despite what people said about him, Leo didn’t just party for a living. He built relationships with small vendors all around the world and coordinated them to throw parties on private islands, exclusive venues, even one event on a private jet. Clients came to Goodhew because they knew the company could cater to the weird and wacky, as long as their money was good.
Leo had worked very, very hard to get the position as a permanent employee in Fred’s company. It was only his third year on the full-time roster. Even being asked to the annual retreat was an achievement in itself. Only the top performers got an invite.
If Fred Goodhew found out that Leo had lied his way there by pretending to be engaged, he’d lose his job. No question. A decade of work would disintegrate in seconds.
Reading the text message over again, Leo tried to see a way out, but none came to him. This job was the one thing he excelled at. It was the one thing in his life that he could point to and feel proud of. His personal life was in shambles, his family life was nonexistent, and his friends—although they were good guys—thought he was just a party animal with a healthy sex drive and a phobia of commitment.
His jobmeantsomething to him. He couldn’t just give it up.
