Chapter 14 #2
“Mr. Everett specifically requested dinner for two,” Mrs. Martinez continued, and I definitely wasn’t imagining the knowing tone in her voice now. “He mentioned something about… continuing an earlier discussion?”
Oh God. The way she said discussion made me wonder if the entire household staff had heard about our library…
discussion. Which, given how enthusiastically I’d participated in said discussion, was mortifyingly possible.
Had I really spent the entire afternoon and early evening having an extended crisis while everyone else just went about their day, probably gossiping about the boss and his usually ice-cold wife getting hot and heavy between the first editions?
“Mrs. Everett?” Mrs. Martinez prompted when I didn’t respond, probably wondering if I’d finally collapsed from hours of panic-induced pacing. “Dinner will be served in thirty minutes. Should I have Gregory prepare your usual table in the formal dining room?”
“Yes! No! I mean…” I pressed my forehead against the cool wall. “Wherever Jason wants is fine. Just… not the library.”
“Very well, madam.” That was definitely a chuckle. “Shall I have Elena press one of your evening dresses, or will you be dining in your… current attire?”
Right. Clothes. Real clothes. That I’d have to wear. While sitting across from Jason. For an entire dinner. Looking at his hands and remembering what they felt like in my hair, on my skin, the way he’d promised tonight in that deep voice that made my toes curl…
“Mrs. Everett?”
“I’m fine!” I squeaked. “I mean, I’ll dress! In clothes! Thank you!”
After Mrs. Martinez’s footsteps faded away—and was that a muffled laugh I heard?
—I slid down the wall to sit on the floor, hugging my knees.
Thirty minutes. I had thirty minutes to transform from this panic-racked mess into someone who could sit through an entire dinner pretending I wasn’t imagining Chapter Twenty-Three in vivid detail.
And Twenty-Four.
And Twenty-Five.
“Focus!” I smacked my cheeks lightly. “You’ve handled difficult dinner situations before.
Like that time you had to serve the couple who both showed up with their secret lovers at the same table.
Or when that guy tried to propose with a ring hidden in soup and you had to dive across three tables to stop someone from choking on it.
This is just dinner. With Jason. Who you kissed. Who kissed you back. Who promised…”
Another passage from the book floated through my mind.
He moved like a predator, all controlled power and heated purpose. When he finally claimed her, the size of him made her gasp, stretching her deliciously as he…
“That’s it.” I buried my face in my hands. “I’m moving to Seoul. I hear they’re always looking for drama screenwriters. I already have plenty of material about parallel universes and body-swapping. And best of all, no sexy billionaires trying to recreate Chapter Twenty-Three with me.”
Except… a traitorous part of me really, really wanted to recreate Chapter Twenty-Three. And Twenty-Four. And possibly Twenty-Five, which involved a shower and some very creative use of?—
“No!” I jumped up and resumed pacing. “Bad Zoe! No thinking about shower scenes! Or any scenes! Or Jason! Or…”
“I am so screwed,” I muttered, then immediately regretted my choice of words as my mind conjured yet another vivid image. “No, not screwed! Bad word choice! I am… I am…”
I looked at my reflection one last time: flushed cheeks, kiss-swollen lips, silk loungewear that somehow managed to be both shapeless and seductive.
But the thought of going through Victoria’s closet, of trying to find something appropriate, of having to make actual clothing decisions when my brain was stuck on repeat of that library scene…
“You know what?” I told my reflection. “This is fine. This is totally fine. I’m just going to own it. Maybe if I look completely unsuitable for seduction, he’ll forget about tonight and we can go back to being proper enemies like the book intended.”
My reflection didn’t look convinced. Probably because even Victoria’s idea of casual loungewear somehow managed to look like something out of a luxury fashion spread.
“I am in so much trouble.”
* * *
Taking a deep breath, I descended the grand staircase with all the poise I could muster. Which, let’s be honest, wasn’t much. The silk loungewear felt foreign against my skin, a constant reminder that I was playing a part in someone else’s life. Someone else’s very expensive, very complicated life.
Then I saw Jason and nearly missed a step.
Oh. Dear. God.
He stood at the windows, a glass of wine in hand as he gazed out at the glittering cityscape.
Dark silk pants hung low on his hips, and his fitted white t-shirt might as well have been painted on, highlighting every muscle the book had so lovingly described.
The city lights created a dramatic silhouette, making him look like something out of a luxury lifestyle magazine—if luxury lifestyle magazines featured billionaires who could make your knees weak just by existing.
My brain short-circuited. All I could think about was how that t-shirt would feel bunched in my fists, how those muscles would feel under my hands, how his lips had felt on my neck in the library…
Nope. This was not happening. I spun on my heel, fully prepared to sprint back upstairs and possibly move to Antarctica.
“Victoria?” Jason’s deep voice froze me mid-escape. “Did you forget something?”
I turned back slowly, plastering on what I hoped was a casual smile and not the desperate grimace it felt like. “Nope! All good! Just… exercising. You know, stairs. Great cardio.”
His answering smile did dangerous things to my insides as I forced myself to descend the rest of the stairs.
I could feel his eyes on me with each step, a physical weight that made my skin tingle.
The silk loungewear suddenly felt too thin, too revealing, especially when his gaze lingered on the way it moved with each step.
That’s when I noticed the setting Gregory and Mrs. Martinez had created in the open-plan living area.
They were quietly arranging an intimate table for two, laying out what looked like an entire restaurant’s worth of covered silver dishes.
The candlelit setting was pure romance novel fantasy—crystal glasses catching the light, fresh flowers in elegant arrangements casting subtle shadows, soft jazz playing from hidden speakers.
They’d chosen a small round table instead of the formal dining one, positioned perfectly to take advantage of the view.
The Manhattan skyline provided a stunning backdrop through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city lights twinkling like stars against the darkening sky.
Gregory and Mrs. Martinez exchanged knowing looks as I entered the dining area, making a show of checking the table one final time before quietly excusing themselves.
Jason crossed the room with that predatory grace that made my mouth go dry, handing me a glass of wine.
His fingers brushed mine deliberately, sending sparks up my arm.
I took a gulp that would have made a sommelier cry.
“You look beautiful,” he murmured, his eyes trailing over my silk-clad form. “Relaxed.”
I choked on my wine. Relaxed? I hadn’t been relaxed since this morning. Actually, scratch that—I hadn’t been truly relaxed since I woke up in Victoria Everett’s body.
Under silver domes, Gregory had arranged a feast fit for a five-star restaurant: delicate lobster bisque, perfectly seared scallops, herb-crusted lamb, various sides that looked like edible art, and what appeared to be a rich chocolate lava cake waiting for dessert.
But Jason had other ideas about the menu, judging by the way he was looking at me.
He guided me to my seat—right next to his, not across the table. His arm draped casually across the back of my chair as he poured more wine, his thigh pressing against mine in a way that made focusing on dinner seem like an impossible task.
“Tell me about your afternoon.”
Oh, you mean the three hours I spent having an existential crisis while replaying our library makeout session? “Pretty quiet,” I squeaked. “Just… reading.”
“Anything interesting?” His thumb started making slow circles on my shoulder.
I nearly choked on my bisque. “Just… reviewing some chapters.”
His low chuckle did things to my insides. “Any particular chapters catch your attention?”
Twenty-three, twenty-four, and twenty-five, on repeat. “Nothing specific.”
“How’s the soup?”
“Amazing,” I managed, though I could barely taste it with him sitting so close. Every time he reached for something, his muscles flexed in that distracting way. “Gregory really outdid himself with the… um…” What was I eating again?
“The bisque?” His voice had that amused tone that said he knew exactly what he was doing to me.
“Right. That.” I tried to focus on my spoon instead of how his free hand kept finding excuses to touch mine. “How was your call?”
“Productive.” He took a bite of his scallop, and I found myself mesmerized by his mouth. “Though I had trouble focusing. Kept thinking about this afternoon.”
The scallop I was lifting missed my mouth entirely. “The… board meeting?”
“The library,” he corrected, his voice dropping to that deep register that made me think of all the things I’d been trying not to think about. “Specifically, that little sound you made when I?—”
“The weather!” I blurted, then immediately wanted to sink through the floor. “It’s very… nice. Tonight. With the… sky. And the… buildings. In the sky. Where buildings… go.”
His laugh vibrated through me, his arm tightening around my shoulders. “Are we really going to discuss meteorology?”
No, probably not, considering I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his mouth and was seriously contemplating climbing into his lap right here at the dinner table.