Someone in the middle of the room called for C? Nga, and she patted Esme on the cheek. “You kids have fun tonight, ha? Let me know if you need anything.”
As soon as his mom left, Kh?i dropped his arm from Esme’s shoulders, and they followed the crowd to a second ballroom even more golden than the first. Huge bouquets with golden ornaments hovered over the tables on top of tall golden vases. Even the champagne glasses were rimmed with gold.
Esme, Kh?i, and his sister sat at a round table for ten next to several of his girl cousins. Introductions were made and hands shaken. Angie, Sophie, Evie, Janie, Maddie. They complained that their brother, Michael, would be absent tonight because his fiancée didn’t like big parties, and he was “whipped.” At first glance, Esme recognized they were mixed just like she was—something about them resonated with her as familiar—but instead of feeling like she belonged, she felt even more out of place. They possessed an American polish Esme lacked. They also had pretty hands. Esme sat on her hands to hide them. Wouldn’t it be nice if Kh?i had ugly hands, too? If that was so, they were an ideal couple. When she snuck a peek at his hands, however, she found them wrapped around a book. He was reading. At a wedding.
And wearing black-rimmed reading glasses.
The glasses made him look smarter and more intense, absolutely irresistible. Had they been in his pocket? And where had that book come from? Was it about something sexy like accounting or math?
She angled her head to see the cover. She couldn’t make out the title, but she was pretty sure she saw a spaceship and a green-skinned creature with horns. There was no way that was work related. He was ignoring everyone, including her, at this expensive wedding. So he could read a novel about alien demon things.
Her confusion must have been written all over her face, because Kh?i’s sister sent Esme an apologetic glance.
“He always does something like this at weddings,” Vy said. “He hates them, but my mom makes him come. He’d prefer to go to a tax seminar.”
Like magic, he looked up from his book. “What about tax seminars?”
Vy laughed and rested her chin in her hands. “You two should talk about taxes. You’re both accountants, after all. It’s a match made in heaven.”
Esme manipulated her lips into a smile. “Tell me about your work.”
He shut his book with his finger inside to keep the page, looking breathtakingly smart-gorgeous with those glasses. “I’m still working on the transfer pricing project. Are you familiar with that kind of work?”
She nodded enthusiastically even though she had no idea what he was talking about. “Of course.” No doubt about it, she was going to be an outhouse catfish in her next life. She’d have to look up transfer pricing tomorrow.
“I’m having trouble automating the process for making sure transactions between subsidiaries are at arm’s length. It’s challenging because no two subsidiaries are the same. There are always individual factors to consider,” he said.
“The length of an arm? That’s a strange saying. And so lonely.”
He laughed—she’d made him laugh—and the sound was deep and rich and beautiful. She wanted to hear him laugh more. A lot more. “That’s funny. They’re companies, not people.”
“Companies have people.”
“Companies don’t have feelings.”
“If companies have people, and people have feelings, then companies have feelings.”
“Pretty sure transfer pricing has nothing to do with feelings,” Vy said as she sent her a skeptical look, and Esme’s face heated with embarrassment.
But Kh?i surprised her by saying, “I like your reasoning, though. I can’t argue with the transitive property.” Then he grinned, and she realized it was the first real smile she’d seen on him. The corners of his eyes wrinkled, and dimples formed on either side of his face. Too man-beautiful. His gaze was direct and went on far too long, but she didn’t mind. For this moment in time, he belonged to her. Well, he belonged to Esme in Accounting. Real Esme wasn’t smart.