This is too many corporate douchebags for the mood I’m in.
I exhale.
I’m gonna get my wife another job. She shouldn’t be wasting her time and talent around these morons.
I stop halfway through the crowd and let my gaze move over the people, searching for the only one I want to talk to.
And then I see her.
She’s across the space, near the railing overlooking the atrium, and her side is to me, showing me her profile.
But I know it’s her.
I’ll always know it’s her.
Target in sight, I move through the crowd quickly.
Having her so close fills me with a mix of relief and tension.
Relief that she’s here, and I can see she’s okay. Tension because there are so many other people here, too. And unless we’re alone in a room together, I’ll always be worried about her safety.
People move across my path, blocking her from my view, then revealing bits and pieces of her person.
When I register the splash of yellow, my steps slow.
Because just yards away from me is my beautiful wife. And she’s wearing the same exact outfit she was wearing in the airport when we first met.
I glance down at her feet and feel myself smile.
So not exactly the same. Tonight she’s wearing a pair of her wedge heels rather than tennis shoes. But it’s the same brightly colored wrap dress that doesn’t look at all like something you’d wear to a Christmas party. The same simple jewelry. The same ponytail.
But my newfound calmness slips away when I notice her posture. It’s all off.
Her back is ramrod straight. And she’s clutching her drink in front of her body, her elbows pressed hard against her sides.
It’s a defensive posture.
And my wife should never be in a defensive fucking posture.
I close the distance between me and my Valentine in four steps.
Her eyes catch mine a second before I’m at her side, and satisfaction fills my chest when I see her relax at my presence.
My fucking Valentine.
I reach out and grip the back of her neck, feeling her relax even more.
“Dominic,” she sighs.
“Angel.” I hold her still as I lean in and press my lips to hers. It’s chaste…ish.
I pull back enough to look her in the eyes, the gold flecks of her irises glinting at me under the party lights. “You good?”
She gives me a little nod, rolling her lips together.
“Why didn’t you reply to my text?” I ask.
Her eyes dart to look past me, but I flex my fingers against her soft skin, keeping her attention on me.
Her throat works under my thumb. “I left my phone in my purse upstairs, in the office.”
“You’ll keep it on you from now on,” I tell her.
“Yes, Dom.” The exhale of her words dances across my lips.
My eyes slowly close, and as they open, I turn to face the man standing in front of my wife.
I didn’t miss him when I was approaching.
I didn’t miss the fact that he’s the one making my woman feel uncomfortable.
And standing to my full height, I’m tempted to slap his fucking face.
“Who are you?” My tone is dangerous, even though I already know who this is.
He holds out his hand, his inferior suit bunching on his weak frame. “I’m Mr. Ritz.”
My right hand is gripping the back of Valentine’s neck, and I’m not letting go of her to touch him.
“Ricky.” I greet him using his first name. And the side of my mouth lifts the smallest amount when he visibly starts. “I’ve read a lot about you.”
He sort of chuckles, like I’m joking or making a play on words. But I’m not doing either.
If he thinks I’d let my wife work in an office with a man I haven’t thoroughly vetted, he’s dead wrong.
While Ricky stands there uncomfortably, I take Val’s drink out of her hands and bring it to my lips.
It looks like a whiskey and Coke, and after today, I could use a couple.
The sweetness hits my nose before the flavor coats my tongue, and a full smile pulls across my mouth as I swallow.
I look down at my wife. “Root beer?”
Her eyes are on my smile. “I didn’t want to drink without you here.”
I slide my hand up the length of her neck, then back down. “Well, I’m here now.” I let her see me looking at her dress. “How long do we need to stay?”
A real smile finally reaches her features. “I need to introduce you to Bri.”
“The girl from Vegas?”
Val’s eyes move up to meet mine. “Yeah. Did I tell you her name already?”