Chapter 3
Marco
As the bubbly beige liquid seeps into my light gray suit, I am about to go off on the clumsy idiot who walked right into me, ruining my tailor’s custom work.
But I stop short when I see it’s the woman I had been admiring from across the room.
The one I kept guessing her eye color. I see now that they are green, and I’m even more taken aback by her beauty now that I’m up close.
Her hair is chestnut brown and glossy against the lights of the party.
Her lips are painted a subtle shade of nude and come together in the center in a perfect cupid’s bow.
But I keep coming back to those eyes. If the dress was made for her, then her eyes were custom built for her heart-shaped face.
I close my mouth that was about to spew some unfriendly words and lock eyes with hers, unable to tear myself away from them.
It’s like they’re changing color as they meld with mine.
For a minute, it feels like it’s just us two.
There’s no one else at this party. There’s no awful eighties pop song.
I can slightly ignore the fact that my skin is now damp from her drink.
I run my hand nervously through my hair, and I’m never nervous.
A brief lull of silence follows her embarrassed apologies, until she’s back at it again, the trance broken.
“I am so sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going,” she says, the words tumbling off her tongue in a nervous quickness.
“It’s quite all right,” I say.
And it is, but only because it’s her.
“But your suit…” Her eyes travel down my body and linger a little longer than she probably intended them to. I bite back a smile as she realizes it.
“This old thing?” I lie. I had picked it up from my tailor at Bloomingdales this morning.
“Just hold on,” she says, turning for the bar.
I watch as she frantically pushes through the line of people and picks up a pile of cocktail napkins from the countertop.
She’s rushing back toward me now and I can’t help but notice the way her breasts bounce in her strapless dress.
They’re real and they’re wonderful. I tear my eyes away before she notices.
The next thing I know, her hands are on me, blotting the champagne from my suit.
She is so concerned with the stains, that she must not notice where her hands are headed.
They blot at my chest, traveling down my torso, and further down.
I let it happen, amused and turned on at the same time.
Soon she’s on her knees, and my thoughts can’t get any dirtier.
I realize we are making a little bit of a spectacle in the center of this party, but she is seemingly unaware of the crowd who watches on as she tries to clean me up.
I gently grab her hand that clutches the cocktail napkins. I note the smoothness of it as I pull her to stand. She looks at me nervously. I wonder if there is anything I can say to reassure her that she’s more than made her amends.
“Please, it’s fine,” I say calmly.
She nods and then seems to notice the others murmuring around us. I see her cheeks flush with color.
“Care to take in the view?” I ask, ignoring the rest of the party, and nod toward the outskirts of the rooftop.
“Please,” she replies thankfully.
I realize I’m still holding her hand. As much as I don’t want to let it go, I also don’t need any more eyes on us in this moment.
It’s doubtful the entire party knows who I am, even though whispers of me being here are already spreading quickly.
They can’t place my face to a name. Seemingly not yet, at least, so maybe my cover isn’t blown after all.
I take one last glance around the party for the owner, but don’t see him.
Someone probably already tipped him off.
I would be disappointed for missing out on my opportunity, if it weren’t for this new opportunity standing in front of me.
I reluctantly let go of her hand and begin striding toward the brick wall that encases the rooftop, strolling slow enough so she walks alongside me and I have a decent peripheral view of her.
The look on her face tells me she’s a bundle of nerves.
I realize that my suspicions from earlier are right.
She has no idea how incredible she looks. Someone has to tell her.
As we find a spot in the corner, I quickly scan the party for the cocktail waitress, hoping she doesn’t interrupt.
I don’t see her though. I turn and face the view that this mystery woman is already facing, her eyes glittering as the city lights bounce off them.
Her fingers are gripping the brick tightly.
I wonder if she’s afraid of heights, or afraid of me.
“Some view, huh?” I ask, not looking at the city.
“It really is,” she murmurs.
“I realize I didn’t catch your name,” I say, slightly turning my body to face her.
“Oh, right. It’s Erica.” She presses her lips into a smile as she holds out her hand, which I’m eager to take in mine again. I wrap my fingers around hers and give her a single shake.
“Marco,” I say.
“Are you in newspapers too?” she asks, pulling her hand away.
A small amount of relief washes over me as I realize she has no idea who I am. I intend to keep it that way, just as I always do.
“I’m trying to be. I thought this party would get my foot in the door.”
“Same,” she says with a shake of her head.
I cock my head slightly, trying to get a read on her. I wonder what she means by that. She must notice because she lets out a little sigh before speaking again.
“I’m a junior journalist here. At The NY News Daily. ”
“Really? What do you write about?” I ask, surprising myself with my genuine intrigue.
“Politics.”
I stick my tongue out, which makes her laugh. I love her laugh. It’s loud and boisterous and has no care that it brings attention to her. I make it my mission to hear it again before the night is over.
“Don’t worry. We won’t get into them.”
“Good,” I joke. “So, how long have you been doing that for?”
“Oh, I’ve had my column for a few years. I’ve been here since the beginning. Since George started this whole thing. He found me right out of college. I was so taken by his ambition to get real, authentic news out there, that I just went with him. Probably, somewhat blindly.”
I can tell by the way she talks about the paper that it really means something to her.
I have done enough research on The NY News Daily to know they didn’t have the prettiest start.
It takes a certain person to stick with something on the verge of failure for so long.
I realize that Erica is more than just a pretty face.
“But I wouldn’t change anything,” she continues. “We’re finally making ground here. So much so, that I thought maybe I would be getting a promotion tonight…” Her voice trails off and she looks back toward the city.
That must have been the conversation she was having with her boss when I spotted them. I wonder what went wrong and hate the sad look that has now grown over her face.
“Sorry,” she says, as if breaking herself from a trance. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this…”
“It’s okay,” I say. “I like talking to you.”
She looks up at me, as if surprised those words came out of my mouth. A soft laugh escapes her throat and she just shakes her head. A strand of hair comes loose from behind her ear and falls softly across her face. It takes everything in me not to reach out and put it back in place.
Looking at her makes me seriously reconsider the plans I have for her paper if I get my hands on it.
I didn’t have to give every employee the boot.
Maybe a few could stay. She definitely could.
In fact, I will personally see to it that she stays on.
She could be useful in some beautiful ways, even if she’s just eye candy.
I like the idea of having her in close proximity.
I turn away from the wall and lean my back against it, knowing the real view is next to me.
I let my eyes wander, not hiding the fact that they are taking her in.
I can see her breathing has slowed as she notices because her chest rises and falls steadily.
My eyes find hers again. They are a deep forest green, a color I have never seen before.
“Just in case no one has told you tonight, you look beautiful,” I say, a smile tugging at the corner of my lip. It’s not a line. It’s the truth.
Her cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink as she runs her hands down her dress, like she’s some sort of impostor.
“Thank you.” She bites her lip nervously. “This is so not like me. My friends convinced me to buy this dress…”
“It would be a disservice if they hadn’t convinced you.”
She lets out a small laugh through her nose.
“You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you?” she asks, her eyes finding mine.
“I just speak the truth.” I shrug.
“Well, thank you.”
Another eighties ballad blares through the speakers and I can’t help but grimace at the singer’s off-key melody as it trails toward us.
“I’d ask you to dance, but…”
“Please don’t.”
I look at her curiously, wondering if my feelings should be hurt.
“It’s just this band is awful,” she quickly says, putting her hand on my arm to reassure me that it has nothing to do with me.
I like the feeling of her hand on me. So much so that I wish this party wasn’t on a rooftop and there was a dark corner we could find ourselves in, so my hands could do their own exploring.
“They really are.” I laugh.
“I feel like my ears might be bleeding. Will you check for me?” She tucks her hair behind her ears and leans in closer for me to inspect.
I catch a whiff of her perfume and inhale the sweet scent.
It’s vanilla and amber, and it’s intoxicating.
I realize she’s flirting with me, and I’m not about to miss this opportunity.
I trail my fingers softly through her hair, getting even closer, letting my breath trail across her bare neck. I see her eyes close for a moment.
“No sign of blood,” I say, letting the words bounce off her jawline like little kisses.
Her eyes flutter open and she gives me a nod.
“Good,” she says, but I can tell the moment has knocked her off her axis, just as it has to me.
I hear a throat clear and look up to see the cocktail waitress from earlier, holding a tray of champagne and looking pissed. Her face is pinched as she looks between Erica and me.
“Would you like another glass?” she asks curtly.
“I’m all right,” says Erica.
“No, thank you.” I shake my head dismissively.
She lets out a little “hmmph” as she turns away from us.
I guess I just lost out on any chance of taking her home tonight, but I realize I have no desire to.
I have the best thing at this party right next to me and I don’t intend on letting her out of my sight.
Instead, I have every intention of waking up next to her in my bed in the morning.