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I look around the room first, seeing Lucy making conversation with people but no Isabella. I check near Lefts, just in case she’s over there. But nothing. Where the hell has Isabella gone? Have I been ditched? I try to push that thought out of my mind when I head into the hall to call her. She has to have her phone on her, right? Maybe she’ll give me somewhat of an explanation. I’m about to dial her number when I see her dress color down the hall.Is that her?Her backside is toward me but I know that figure anywhere. She is facing the man I saw her with earlier but now it looks like they are fighting. He starts to shout as I get closer.
“Does your little girlfriend know what you do for a living? You should be ashamed of yourself,” he spits. Isabella clenches her jaw before she socks him right in the mouth.
“I have nothing to be ashamed of,” she growls back at him.
“Oh shit.” I audibly gasp. Isabella’s eyes widen and we’re both met with an array of questions for the other.
“Let’s get you out of here.” I take her hand, not the one she just used to sock the guy, and we take off out the front doors. I’ve made enough of an appearance at the party that I can take off without anyone noticing.
We jump in a cab, and I shoot off my address without even thinking about it.
“I’m so sorry.” Isabella begins to cry and I wrap one arm around her.
“It’s okay, but what the hell happened back there?”
“He’s a client. He saw you and I together and singled me out. He thought I was there to shake him down for money or something, he was there with his wife and freaked out. I tried to tell him I was there with you, I even lied and said you were my girlfriend just in case but he didn’t believe me. I just lost it when he called me a slut. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wreck your work party.” She leans into my chest and sobs lightly.
“No, you didn’t,” I assure her.
“I did, though, you had to leave early,” she points out.
“Thank goodness for that. I can’t remember the last time I’ve snuck out of one of those things.” I laugh.
“Really?” She looks up at me, unconvinced.
I nod. “Is your hand okay?”
“I’ve never punched anyone before,” she admits.
“I kind of figured that, it didn’t seem like you.”
“He just made me so angry. I’m tired of people perceiving me a certain way because of what I do for a living. It was enough to send me over the edge apparently.” She sighs.
“I don’t blame you, if I constantly had people in my ear saying things that weren’t true about me, I might blow up too,” I admit.
“Do you think you can just take me home?”
“Why don’t you come over, we open a bottle of wine, and we just talk or hang out. Only if you want to,” I add for good measure, I don’t want her to feel like this is one of the dates I’m requiring her presence for.
She pauses to think about it. “Okay.” She nods.
“We can even order a pizza or something because I’m starving,” I say, and my stomach growls as if to back up my notion.
“Yes! The party only had those tiny finger foods. Who the hell can fill up without having like fifty of them?!” she exclaims with a laugh.
“I think they’re meant to be appetizers,” I point out.
“Well, tell that to my stomach. I probably had like fifteen of them,” she says wide eyed.
“I like how authentic you are,” I say aloud. Isabella’s mouth forms a small o before smiling.
“Thank you.” She hesitates. “I think I’m more myself than I’ve ever been in my actual relationships. It’s easy to be myself with you.”
“I’m glad.” I catch a blush creep across her cheeks and I smile.
Pulling up in front of my apartment, I help her out of the cab and into my building. We take the elevator instead of the stairs, not in the heels we are both wearing. Of course, it’s then that a whole group of people pile into the elevator heading to the roof. It is nice up there, I’ll have to remember to take Isabella one time but it won’t be now. With the people piling in, Isabella and I end up closer than before. She’s standing in front of me with her body pressed against mine. I can feel the heat radiating off her skin and the smell of her shampoo. I close my eyes and try to remember this moment as best as I can. I reach out to steady her hips when she stumbles on her heels stepping back. Holding on to her waist, only pulling her closer to my body. By the time we reach my floor, I take Isabella’s hand and I pull her into my apartment.
The only thing I want to do is pull her into my bedroom and have my way with her. But I don’t, I remember the arrangement and what we’re doing here. Instead she comes in and asks me for a change of clothes from her dress. I nod, scrounging together a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that will fit over her breasts. She heads into the bathroom to change while I retreat into my bedroom to do the same.
