“Seriously, my David could use a bright young woman like yourself to keep him on the straight and narrow.” Mr. Shaw, a fellow member of the billionaire’s club like Mr. Hayes, shakes his head and rolls his eyes in exasperation. “Helluva kid though,” he says to me as if that will somehow make taking on being the mother to a problem child in his early thirties less toxic.
I can feel myself blush as everyone stares at me, waiting for me to answer. I glance to my right and see Mr. Hayes staring at me as well. I lift the flute of champagne to my lips and take a small sip, about to answer when he steps forward and puts his hand on my elbow.
“I think Miss Silver needs a moment to catch her breath and grab something to eat.” He smiles.
Thank you, I mouth to him as he ushers me away from the vultures lurking.
“Guess I forgot to mention that these things are also treated a bit like a matchmaking game. Most of the time they’re just looking for someone to take over being a parent for their man-child that has a ‘social’ drinking problem and mainlines cocaine and opiates like they’re candy.”
“That sounds lovely.” Shock settles over my face. “And you’re friends with all these people?”
“No, it’s purely business.”
We both pick up a fresh drink from the bar and make our way to a private area with a view of the city.
“So what do you normally do at these things?” I swirl the stir stick around my drink.
“Pretty much the same thing. Socialize. Try to get these schmucks to give up their money.”
I laugh and his eyes dart to mine.
“Who is your normal date?” He takes a long sip of his drink as if he’s contemplating what to share or maybe how to say it.
“I wouldn’t say I have a normal date. Nobody that I bring regularly. Most of the time it’s just me. I’ve taken a few different women over the years, nobody of importance. Why do you ask?”
I shrug. “Just curious, I guess, what a real date with Graham Hayes looks like.”
“A real date? As in this”—he motions between us—“isn’t a real date?”
“Well, I guess it’s a date of sorts but like you mentioned previously, my expertise and education lent to the subject matter of tonight’s event.” I’m trying to sound coy, hell, maybe I’m even flirting with him to try and bait him to tell me it was more than that.
“And what constitutes a real date to you, Miss Silver?”
I tilt my head off to the side, contemplating his question.
“I wouldn’t say there’s a list or specific formula for a date but oftentimes, or at least in my limited experience, there’s dinner, drinks, dancing… definitely flirting.”
He nods, taking another sip. “Limited experience?” he asks, staring out the window.
“I’m only twenty-six, Mr. Hayes. I haven’t really had that many interested parties.” I laugh.
“I noticed you didn’t answer their question earlier, about if you were single.”
“I was about to, but you stepped in and whisked me away.”
He places his drink down on the windowsill and turns to face me, taking a few steps closer until he has to look down on me.
“And what would your answer have been?”
“Yes, I’m single.”
“So, we didn’t have dinner here but there were hors d’oeuvres and we both have drinks and I think that”—he points to the middle of the room where a few couples have begun dancing—“is dancing.”
I look over my shoulder. “And your point is?”
He takes the drink from my hand and places it next to his before linking his fingers through mine and leading me out onto the floor. He snakes his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him while his other hand is still holding mine.
“That we’ve had drinks, some food, and now dancing.”
I feel like my heart is about to pound through my chest. I’m worried he’ll feel it against his. He leans his head down, placing his lips at my ear.
“I’d say that’s a pretty damn real date.”
We sway to the music, his feet gliding across the floor as he takes me with him. I had no idea I knew how to dance. I don’t actually; it’s more like he’s guiding me and I’m following along. I close my eyes briefly, the warmth of his body pressing against me so tightly. I can smell his cologne. It’s doing all sorts of things to my lower belly. A heavy pressure is building and I can’t seem to control it.
“Relax.” He says that word to me again as he drags the hand that’s on my waist up my back till it rests at the base of my neck. His fingers pinch me softly before rubbing small circles into my skin. A tingle runs from where he’s touching me all the way down my spine.
“I’m trying. I just never danced with my boss in front of people before at an event with billionaires and elected officials.” I let out a shaky laugh.
“Mmm, I guess I am your boss, aren’t I?” The way he says it sounds so naughty and forbidden.
The song ends and we stop moving but he doesn’t disconnect from my body. I look up at him slowly. His eyes feel like they’re staring into my soul. I lick my lips instinctively and his eyes drop from mine to my lips as my tongue drags across them.
We’re so close. It feels like time is standing still and every fiber of my being is silently begging him to kiss me. Kiss me, kiss me, my brain says over and over again as I hold my breath.
“Mind if I cut in?” A stranger’s voice breaks the spell and Mr. Hayes steps back, breaking our connection as the moment evaporates.
“Fuck off, Garrett,” Mr. Hayes says as he turns my body away from the man.
He ushers me through the crowd of people, giving quick handshakes and acknowledging a few people here and there as we walk toward the exit.
“Are we leaving?” I ask, confused.
“Yes.”
“Who was that guy?” I glance over my shoulder, but he’s already lost in the crowd.
“My CFO.” His tone is clipped.
“You just told your CFO to—”
“Yes. Trust me. His intentions weren’t good and I wouldn’t trust him to touch you with a fifty-foot pole.”
We walk quickly down the stairs as Phil is already waiting with the car, the back door open.
The drive home is silent.
“Did I do something wrong?” I ask as the car pulls to a stop and we exit, making our way back inside the house.
He’s practically dragging me up the stairs and I stumble, my heel getting caught on the carpet. He reaches out his arms to catch me, helping me right myself on the landing.
“No,” he whispers, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.
“Well, if this were a normal date, I’d ask if you wanted to come inside for a drink, but this is your house and we’re already inside.” I glance around. The house is totally dark as I walk toward my quarters. “And it seems late.”
“And I’m your boss.” He repeated my observation from earlier and I realize that was the pivotal point in the evening that snapped him back to reality before he dragged me back home.
“Yes, and there’s that,” I say nervously. “Hey, thanks again for bringing me tonight. I feel like I was able to share a lot of valuable knowledge with important people that can make a difference. I just hope it helped.”