Chapter 17
SACHI
“They changed the seating chart at the last minute.” The head caterer holds up a map of the place settings with a scowl.
“You need help sorting it out?” I do a visual sweep of the seven dining tables decked out with gorgeous live floral arrangements—all festive in an elegant, sophisticated fashion.
Sprigs of pine fill the room with their evergreen scent alongside holly and eucalyptus leaves, providing an artful background for spectacular crimson peonies and bright red berries.
Each set of fine China is adorned with a placard bearing a guest’s name, beautifully inscribed in calligraphy.
“Hey, this is funny.” The older woman holds up one of the tented placards. “I’ve never met another Sachi.”
“Me either,” I muse. “Of course, I’ve never lived in Japan. I have no idea how popular the name is over there.”
“True.” She swaps out the old card for the new one, then moves to another table. “You know what it means?”
“My name? It means happiness or good fortune.” I smile softly, thinking of my parents and how they swore my name would guide me to a fulfilling life. I don’t always understand their way of thinking, but they’re still great parents. They love me with their whole hearts.
“I like that. More interesting than mine,” she grumbles, making another card swap. “Okay, I think that does it.” She lifts her gaze and smiles at me. “You heading out?”
“Yeah, unless you need me?”
Please, say no.
“Nah, we should be fine.”
“Kay, I’ll see you after Christmas, then!”
“Have a good one!”
“You, too.” I give her a wave with a smile, then turn for the exit and discover we’re not alone.
And it’s not just anyone watching us; it’s Dean.
He’s dressed in that impeccable black velvet tux he wore to the masquerade.
“What are you doing here?” I ask in a hushed tone, peering around to see if the head caterer has noticed him.
Bringing drama to my friend group is enough.
I don’t want my personal life bleeding into work as well, and I can’t fathom why else he’d be here except to talk about things better discussed in private.
Why he came in a tux to talk, I have no idea. And how did he find me?
My whole body tenses from the uncertainty of the situation.
“Preparing for dinner, same as you,” he offers in that honeyed voice of his.
I peer back at the tables, as if they’ll provide clarity. “Dinner?” I’m so freaking confused.
“Yeah, I’m on the board of trustees for the charity, so technically, I’m one of the hosts.”
I take him in again, this time in a new light. “You’re here for the event, not me.” I hate how pathetic the words sound as they tumble past my lips, and I wish I could gobble them back inside.
“There is only one reason I’m here.” Dean ambles forward, slowly closing the distance between us.
“And that has everything to do with you.” He cups my face with his large hands and leans in to whisper close to my ear.
“I’m sorry, Sachi, for how I responded, and I’m really hoping you’ll give me another chance. ”
I lift my wide eyes to his imploring gaze and lose myself for a second in their sapphire depths.
“You knew I’d be here? You’re the one who requested me?” I say my thoughts aloud as understanding dawns. How else would he have known I’d be here at an event he happened to be hosting? An event where I was specifically requested. Days ago. He’d been planning this for days.
He bites his bottom lip in a sheepishly boyish way that has my heart melting into a puddle at my feet.
“I know it’s unexpected. I could have just come to talk to you or called, but that didn’t feel like enough. A major fuckup deserves an epic apology.”
“I’m not sure I understand, but we can probably talk tomorrow after the dinner,” I respond, confusion furrowing my brows.
“Oh, no. This apology is all about you, and it starts right now.” He takes my hand and guides me down a hallway and into a sitting room. Inside is a clothing rack lined with beautiful cocktail gowns. “I’d be honored if you’d be my guest for dinner tonight.”
My jaw drops.
“Those are dresses.” My gears are a little slow to catch up.
“Yes,” he says with a note of amusement.
“And that was my name.” I point absently over my shoulder toward the banquet room. “On the placard.”
“Yes, again.”
“You want me to put on a dress and join you for dinner at your charity banquet.”
His beaming grin heats the room a solid ten degrees with its radiance. “Exactly.”
I place my hands on my head and try to recall the state of my hair. “I don’t have a brush.”
I swear to God, the most inane things keep coming out of my mouth, but I can’t help it. I’m utterly flabbergasted.
Dean takes my hands in his, his expression sobering.
“The people attending dinner tonight are all incredibly generous, gracious people. I wouldn’t think you’d have anything to worry about, but just to make sure you’re comfortable, I have a hair and makeup stylist waiting in another room.
I understand this is a big ask with no warning, so it’s totally up to you.
The dress, shoes, and jewelry are all available for your selection, but if you’d rather not, I’ll respect your decision. ”
Jewelry? A stylist?
He's put a ton of thought and planning into tonight.
Aside from still being in shock, I’m flattered and incredibly grateful.
Excitement pulls my lips into a wide grin and brings creases to the corners of my smiling eyes. “Do I pick any dress I want?”
He flashes his sexy dimples, fighting a grin. “Take your pick.”
I slide the hangers down and have a look at each gown one at a time.
It’s not an easy choice. “They’re all so gorgeous.
” So much so that I run my hands down one looking for a tag.
I don’t recognize the label, nor can I find a price tag, but I can tell by the quality that the dresses must cost a small fortune.
“Something wrong?” Dean asks, his tone wary.
“No, I’m just a little confused. Where did you get these?”
“A boutique shop where a friend works.”
“They just agreed to loan you dresses for the night?” If I’d known that was an option, I would have done that for every party ever.
“No, the dresses are yours. Bought and paid for.”
I freeze, turning a wide-eyed stare up at the beautiful man standing beside me. The New York City detective, who most likely would have to cash in his pension to buy one of these dresses, let alone all of them. “Dean, it’s too much,” I whisper, praying we can get his money back.
His lips twist as he considers his response. Meanwhile, my heart pounds in my chest like a war drum.
“This always gets a little awkward to admit.” He brings a hand sheepishly to the back of his neck. “I’m a detective—you know that—but what you and most people don’t know is my parents were killed in a hit-and-run accident when I was sixteen.”
My stomach lurches as a horrified chill brings goose bumps to my arms.
“I spent the next couple of years fostered by a relative until I was an adult and had access to my inheritance, which was … sizable.”
“Your apartment,” I breathe, the pieces clicking into place.
Dean nods. “I figured you probably noticed.”
“It’s huge … and really, really nice.”
“I definitely couldn’t have bought that on my salary alone.”
I take a renewed look at the man opposite me. His tux is perfection—luxury fabrics tailored with precision. He’s hosting a charity banquet. He has the equivalent of a mansion apartment in the heart of the city.
“Are you … rich?”
A rumble of masculine amusement tickles my ears as he places his hands on either side of my face and brings his lips to my forehead.
“I wish you could see your face right now.”
“Dean Malone, are you making fun of me?” I jab at him lightheartedly.
“Maybe just a tiny bit,” he says, bringing his eyes to mine. “But only because you’re adorable.”
His touch and smell and stare are wreaking delicious havoc on my senses, scrambling my thoughts, but not enough that I lose sight of what’s important.
“You have money, but only because you lost your parents,” I say softly, gently. My heart bleeds silent tears for the pain he must have endured. I can’t even imagine.
He sobers. “I’d give it all up in an instant if it meant getting them back, but that’s not how it works.”
“Instead, you became a cop.”
He gives a single nod.
“You don’t need to work, but you don’t see it as just a job, do you?” I recall the guys describing dean as a Goody Two-Shoes. Now I understand why. He’s not the type who can be bought … at any price.
“Being on the force is a choice. I’ve been somewhat righteous about that in the past, but I've come to understand that life isn’t always black and white.
Having money makes it easy for me to stay on the right side of the law—a luxury most others aren’t afforded—and something I took for granted until this breathtaking beauty captivated me at a party.
” His voice lowers to a gravelly rasp as he takes my hands in his and walks me backward until my legs bump against the back of a chair.
“You broke into my apartment,” I remind him softly.
He weaves his fingers through mine and brings his lips to my jawline, grazing his teeth against my skin.
“I also used official resources to get your information. I honestly can’t say just how far I’d bend the law if it meant getting a second chance with you.
” He withdraws, his gaze seizing mine. “Spend the evening with me, Sachi. Have dinner as my guest—no other expectations—just you and me and conversation.”
He wants a do-over. Dean Malone gave me a fancy party to attend, just like I’d wanted. He’s provided everything I could need, including his remorse over what transpired between us, and all he’s asking for in return is an opportunity to make things right.
How can I possibly say no?
He has me utterly spellbound.
“I’ll take the red dress, please.”