Our driver took us over to the Metropolitan Opera House, and we made our way to the box office, where Hutton gave his name. “Do you know where the seats are?” I asked, glancing around the lobby with its massive cascading staircases, deep red carpet, and soaring windows.
“Not exactly.” Hutton loosened his tie, and I realized he was probably uncomfortable in such a crowded public place.
“Here. Let me see.” I glanced at the tickets and saw that we were in a section called Parterre Box 24. It was easy enough to find someone to ask, and a few minutes later we were shown our very own private box, which had three seats in a front row, and five more in a second and third.
“Wait a minute.” I looked around. “Are all these seats ours?”
“Yes. I bought the whole box,” Hutton said. “I like privacy.”
I laughed. “One of those billionaire perks?”
He smiled. “Exactly.”
Needless to say, the view of the stage was incredible. And I had zero chill as I looked around at the sea of red velvet, the sparkling chandeliers, the gold leaf, the marble, the towering ceiling. I don’t think I closed my mouth for five full minutes. “This is amazing! It’s so beautiful!”
“It is.” Hutton sat down beside me.
“Do you come here a lot?”
“Not really. I brought my parents here once—my dad likes opera—and I attended the fundraising gala once.”
“Oooh, I bet that was fancy. Ball gowns and tuxes? Cocktails and small talk?”
He nodded. “I lasted about twenty minutes.”
I laughed and took his hand. “Well, don’t worry. I won’t make you talk to me.”
“I like talking to you. Among other things.”
My heart skipped a beat as the lights dimmed. I could get used to this, I thought. But then I corrected myself.
I could not get used to this—not this box at the Met, this man beside me, or this feeling inside my chest. In fact, getting used to this would be the worst possible thing that could happen.
I glanced down at our hands.
My ring shone brilliantly, even in the dark.
THIRTEEN
FELICITY
After the ballet was over, we met our driver outside, and Hutton listened to me gush about the music and the dancing and the costumes and the sets and how magical the whole evening had been the entire ride back to the hotel.
And on the elevator. And walking down the hall. And inside our suite, as I awkwardly waltzed across the living room. “The dancers were so graceful,” I said. “So elegant and artistic but also strong and powerful. It’s amazing how much emotion they can convey just by moving their arms a certain way. Or changing the angle of their head. They have such incredible command of every muscle in their bodies, you know?”
“Yes,” he said, and I realized I hadn’t heard his voice in like twenty minutes.
I turned around and saw him pouring a drink at the bar cart near the dining table. “Sorry! I’m talking nonstop, aren’t I?”
“I don’t mind.”
“I just loved it all so much.”
“I’m glad. Want something to drink? Whiskey or scotch?”
“No, thanks. Mostly I just want to take these heels off.”
“Leave them on.”
I was already bending down to unbuckle one ankle strap. I looked up and saw him standing there with his glass in his hand. “What?”
“Leave them on. And come over here.”
I straightened up and took one tiny step.
“On your hands and knees.”
My breath caught. I could feel his eyes on me. Instantly I understood what this was, and even though I was a little nervous, I wanted to play along. I wanted to please him this way.
The only problem was, I wasn’t entirely sure I could get to my knees in this tight dress. But I said a quick prayer and dropped to my knees on the carpet in one smooth motion. Thankfully, the dress material had some stretch, and the seams didn’t pop.
“Good girl,” he said quietly, igniting a firestorm in my blood that surprised me. “Now come here.”
My heart thrummed fast and loud as I lowered my palms to the floor and slowly closed the distance between us. I’d never done anything like this in my life—who am I right now?—but I liked the way it made me feel.
Tempting. Seductive. Alluring. I’d never thought of myself that way before, but here and now, in this tight little black dress with the red satin heels, crawling toward a gorgeous, powerful man in a suit in our Manhattan hotel suite? My billionaire fiancé? It was easy to imagine I wasn’t myself at all.