Darius
T here is no way Leo planned a single detail about this party. I call bullshit. Because the man I know better than I know myself, the man who has been my rock since freshman year of college, does not decorate. No way.
And yet his skyscraper rooftop glitters with string lights, and a white gazebo covers the band on their small stage. As we step out onto the roof, my hand resting on Lucy’s back, I count three pop-up cocktail bars and at least a dozen servers weaving through the crowd with trays of canapes.
“Nice work, Hazel.” I wink at the boss’s assistant where she stands by his side, greeting the guests as they arrive. And Hazel beams at me, but both Leo and Lucy stiffen at our exchange.
What? Why? What did I say?
Hazel has done a great job—and we all know this party was one hundred percent her. She’s Leo’s best employee, his right-hand woman. His blonde, perky General with a bright smile. Without her, he’d be even more grouchy and impossible, and that is saying something.
“Yes, thank you so much for tonight,” Lucy says, stepping carefully away from my touch. Squeezing my hand into a fist, I keep my smile fixed in place. “And thank you, of course, Mr Corbin. It’s so kind of you to throw us this party.”
Leo grunts.
And he’s never going to win the Mr Congeniality award, but Leo is grumpier than usual when he fixes me with a scowl, ignoring Lucy completely. “So much for keeping your distance, Amin.”
My pulse races, even as I shrug at my oldest friend, cool as a cucumber. “It’s just one night. No harm done.”
“What are you talking about?” Hazel pipes up, and Lucy’s frowning between us too. She shuffles another inch away from me, suspicion turning down her mouth, and Christ, I want to yank her back.
Want to bury my face in her throat and inhale.
Want to press her perfect, soft body against my front.
Want to twirl her around the dance floor and feed her chocolate-dipped strawberries and lick droplets of champagne off her wrist. Is that so wrong?
Not fit for love.
Not fit for love.
Right.
“Nothing.” Leo glances down at his ball-of-sunshine assistant, and his scowl softens the tiniest amount. Ha! Such a hypocrite. “Would you like a drink?”
“Oh, of course!” Hazel tucks a clipboard under her arm and plucks his empty glass, oblivious to his unhappy frown. Guess I’m not the only would-be provider. “I’ll fetch us some now. You stay here and greet everyone, and remember to smile!”
As her blonde ponytail whips away in the crowd, Leo sighs and turns to me. “Not a word.”
I mime zipping my lips closed, then take Lucy’s hand. She lets me, thank god.
“See you on the other side, boss.”
* * *
“What did Mr Corbin mean by that? When he said about keeping your distance?”
Two hours of dancing, chatting, and sniping canapes from servers’ trays later, Lucy finally voices the question that has been chewing on her mind.
It’s been bothering her. Doesn’t take a detective to notice. When Lucy is preoccupied, she gets this little pinch in her eyebrows and she nibbles on her plump bottom lip.
It’s been sweet torture, watching those pearly white teeth sink into her pillowy lip. So I’ve been waiting impatiently, my chest tight, for her to ask the question that will sink this whole night.
Because this isn’t practice. This isn’t fake—not to me.
I mean every dance, every teasing whisper, every time I tuck her hair behind her ear. Every drink I bring Lucy is an offering from my heart.
Rusty, useless heart though it may be.
So when Lucy finally asks, my stomach churns with dread. This is it. And I won’t lie to her, but… perhaps this night can last a little longer before the sweet, shy accountant demands to go home and never wants to see me again.
“First, let’s run through your lessons so far.” It’s easy to take Lucy’s elbow and tug her gently into the crowd, nudging a path to the center of the dance floor. The breeze is strong this high up on the rooftop, ruffling skirts and teasing the guests’ hair, but I’m overheating under my suit. Hours with Lucy have me permanently flushed. “Lesson one. Dancing.”
Lucy rolls her eyes but twines her arms around my neck—and god, this feels good. If I had my way, this particular lesson would never end.
The soft warmth of her body, pressed against mine. The way her generous curves mold to my chest, and the tickle of her hair against my neck. The floral scent of her skin, and the stars reflected in her green eyes. Everything.
“You know, of all the confusing parts of a first date, I think I can manage turning in a circle, .”
She says that, but when another guest brushes too close behind her, Lucy huddles against my chest. And I fucking love that—love being her safe harbor. Shooting a warning look over her shoulder, I gather her close, never wanting to let go.
“Alright, my beautiful know-it-all. Lesson two: flirting. Show me what you’ve learned.”
And Lucy huffs, her warm breath tickling my throat, but she slides one palm into the center of my chest. The first two buttons of my shirt are undone, and her fingertip ghosts over the third button, then slips under the fabric to tease my bare skin.
It’s the softest touch. Barely there at all.
And blood surges to my cock.
“It’s hard to flirt on command,” Lucy grouses, like she hasn’t already earned an A+. That tiny point of contact from her fingertip on my bare chest—it’s killing me. My body is coiling tight, muscles tensing on my bones, like I’m about to throw her over my shoulder and carry her into the shadows. If we weren’t surrounded by our coworkers, maybe I would. “And not all of us are massive flirts like you, . We can’t all wink and have people fall at our feet.”
“What are you talking about?” It’s so hard to focus with Lucy crushed against me like this. The music is slow, sultry, and the chatter of the crowd floats up to the night sky.
“Hazel,” Lucy mutters.
Wait. What?
“ Hazel ?”
The pinch between Lucy’s eyebrows deepens to a full-on frown, and she looks tired suddenly. Bitter. And I keep turning her slowly, keep her gathered to my chest, but I’d give anything to kiss away that frown.
First, though, I need to understand whatever the hell is going on.
“Hazel?” I repeat. “Care to explain?”
“You winked at her earlier.” A blush climbs Lucy’s throat, and no, I will not lick it. This is a serious conversation. “When we first arrived. Just like you smile at the interns and they all swoon into a pile.”
I bite back a laugh. “That’s hardly what happens. You’re exaggerating. And I’m not flirting with any of them, Luce, I’m just being friendly.”
She scoffs. “Yeah, right.”
“It’s true.” Christ, I wish she’d believe me on this. Because, okay, I know what I look like. I’m not an idiot: I know the effect I can have. My ruined, useless heart has an appealing wrapper. But does that mean I should be rude and dismissive with every person I meet? Shouldn’t I still be friendly and kind?
I’m not Leo, damn it. My face isn’t set in a permanent glower. My natural inclination is to smile, to make people feel comfortable, but that’s not an invitation to more.
“You’d know if I was flirting, Luce.”
Another scowl at my shirt collar. “Would I?”
“Yes. Because it would only ever be aimed at you.”
There’s a long, loaded pause between us, and we fill it by dancing in silence, spinning beneath the stars. String lights glitter all around us, and the band breaks into another slow song. After a while, Lucy puffs out a strained breath, then slips more of her fingertip beneath my shirt, pressing harder against my heated chest.
Yes.
“Lesson three,” I grate out, heart thumping against that small point of contact. “Kissing.”
Lucy jolts, that blush flooding her cheeks, and the look she gives me is so wary. “You haven’t said anything about kissing.”
“Haven’t I?” Cupping her cheek slowly, I give her time to move away. “Maybe it’s better if I show you.”
The world tilts as I lower my head. And I’m going slowly, so slowly, dreading the inevitable moment when Lucy shoves me away, but then our lips brush—and my heart stops.
One second.
Two.
There’s nothing but stunned silence in my chest.
Then finally, as I kiss her again, deeper this time, my poor heart jolts back to life, racing extra fast to catch up.
“ Mmph ,” Lucy says against my lips, gripping the lapels of my jacket, tugging me closer.
Her lips are warm and plush, and her mouth tastes like the berry-flavored cocktail I brought her thirty minutes ago. Lucy opens for me on a sigh, her tongue nudging mine, and heat crackles down my spine.
My gut is clenched, and I’m harder than granite.
More.
I need more of this woman. Something tells me I’ll never get enough.
Lucy’s breath hitches when I deepen the kiss even further, our tongues sliding together. She’s pressed completely against me now. Sealed tight, kissing me back, even as whispers drift around us on the dance floor.
… Amin…
…Isn’t that the girl from Accounts?…
…Lily or something…
This isn’t right. It’s Lucy’s first kiss. She deserves privacy, not a bunch of gossips misremembering her name.
Gut swooping, I tear my mouth away, straighten up and stare blindly out at the crowd. Lucy’s breathing hard too, still squeezing my lapels in her hands, and it takes a moment for my brain to come back online. For me to register what I’m seeing.
Leo leans against the band’s gazebo, his arms folded and expression stony.
Leo Corbin watches me. Judges me as I break my promise.
“…need some air?”
Lucy’s words filter through the chaos in my brain, and I glance down with a blink. “What?”
She flinches, taking her hands away. “I asked if you needed some air. You look pale.”
“I’m…”
Wrecked. Ruined. A liar and a hopeless excuse for a friend.
Shaking my head, I force my brain back into gear. “I’m fine. There you go, Luce. There’s lesson three.”
Her lips press together. Green eyes watch me closely, her pupils still blown from our kiss. “A lesson? Is that still what this is, ? Practice?”
Leo’s gaze bores into me from afar, making my neck itch. He looks so pissed off at me. So disappointed.
And he’s right. He should be. Because didn’t I say I’d keep my distance? Didn’t I promise to stay away from this girl? And here I am twirling her around a dance floor, flirting and stealing kisses, hiding behind the excuse of ‘practice’ while Lucy deserves a man who can be what she needs.
Whole. Functional. A man who knows what a healthy relationship looks like; a man who can do this thing right.
“,” Lucy presses, and she sounds so strained. Damn. I aim a smile at her, but it feels wrong on my face.
“Of course this is still practice,” I say. “But it’s fun practice, right?”
“Fun,” Lucy repeats. Her shoulders slump. “I see.”
And I’m mentally patting myself on the back, congratulating myself for dodging the awkward questions and smoothing this over, when Lucy turns on her heel and marches away without another word. The crowd parts for her and swallows her whole, her red velvet dress blocked by dark suits and flowing skirts, and I’m left gaping after her on the dance floor.
My heart gives a sickly lurch.
“Lucy!” I call.
Heads turn, but none of them have her auburn waves.
“Luce!”
The band finishes one song, and in the lull before they start another, I hear the whispers all around me. The gossipy murmurs, swarming like bees, until my face is hot and my stomach is tight and I hate every single person on this rooftop except one.
Why can’t they leave me the hell alone? Why can’t they all mind their own business? It’s the rumors they spread, the gossip about me, which makes Lucy think I’m sleeping with half the interns. No one here really knows me except Leo—and he thinks the worst of me. Thinks I’m doomed to screw this up, because he can’t let himself love. Can’t admit to wanting more.
Cursing under my breath, I shoulder my way through the dancing couples. Fuck that. Fuck this.
I need my sweet accountant.