12. Bianca
BIANCA
Tonight is a favor for my best friend.
Her firm bought a table at some charity auction, and she needed a date.
Since she is not dating anyone, I’m her first choice.
Lucky me.
But there are two good things about this evening. I get to spend the evening with my best friend, and I get to wear a green dress that I bought on a whim last year.
It’s particularly cold for the beginning of November. I have a coat balled up in my lap, but it doesn’t really go with the dress.
So, I don’t think I’ll wear the coat when we get there. I can suffer through the walk from the valet to the event for the sake of the look.
The dress is deep green and floor-length, with thin straps and a low back that stops right at the base of my spine. The silk skims my body without clinging. It moves when I move. I bought it on clearance, even though I never thought I’d ever have a reason to wear it.
And I imagine what Ander might think if he saw me in the dress.
I stop the thought. Ander will not see me in the dress. I haven’t seen Ander since we had mind-blowing sex.
It’s been a week.
A whole week since he walked out of my apartment with bedhead and a goodbye kiss, right after we finished the goodbye sex that morning.
He’s been out of town for work. But he’s been texting me. A lot.
Really dirty, flirty texts.
And he came back home today. Hopefully, I can see him again soon.
Daphne knows almost everything. She knows about the night. She knows about the morning after. She knows I want to continue having sex with one of the men who tried to ruin my business.
She thinks I’m crazy. She has used those exact words. “Donovan, I love you, but you’re crazy.”
But she only tried to talk me out of it once. And I appreciate that. I know she’s holding back.
She was especially forgiving about the pinkie promise, since Ander is the nice triplet. Or at least, that’s what she concluded from her meticulous online research.
“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” She asks me from the driver’s seat.
I hide my face, embarrassed. “How did you know?”
“You’re biting your lower lip, and you haven’t said a word in about three minutes.”
“Guilty,” I tell her.
I look out of the passenger window.
“You like him, Donovan.” She doesn’t take her eyes off the road. “That’s the problem. The sex isn’t the problem. I’ve made peace with the sex. You liking him is going to ruin your life.”
“That’s dramatic.”
She changes lanes without signaling. “Is it?”
Maybe she’s right.
“Too early to tell.”
“Famous last words, Donovan.”
We pull up to the event venue.
Daphne loops her arm with mine, and we walk in.
I’m not prepared.
The lobby is black marble, and there’s a chandelier the size of my apartment. A string quartet plays in front of a champagne tower.
I tighten my arm against Daphne’s. “You didn’t tell me it was this fancy.”
“Honestly, I didn’t know.”
A woman walks past us in a gown that makes me stare. Another woman is wearing a tiara. An actual tiara.
I’m glad I wore the dress. I’m also, somehow, underdressed in it.
Daphne pulls gently on my arm. “Let’s go find our table.”
I follow her into the ballroom.
There’s a thing that happens when your body knows something before your brain does.
I’m three steps into the ballroom, and my whole body has locked up.
The triplets are here. All three of them.
Theo is at a high-top near the bar. The supermodel next to him is laughing too loudly. I recognize her from the cover of every magazine I’ve ever stood in line beside at the grocery store. His hand sits at the small of her back.
Gideon is across the room. A blonde in pale blue is doing all the talking.
Ander is against a column near the auction tables, talking to a woman in red.
I’m trying not to feel jealous. Trying being the operative word.
Daphne has stopped beside me. She’s not looking at the brothers. She is looking at my face.
“Donovan, I had no idea they’d be here. I swear.”
I believe her. Daphne would rather agree to a root canal than walk me into this room.
Theo turns from the bar. He stops mid-sentence with the supermodel, and his eyes find me.
The supermodel says something to him, and he doesn’t answer her.
I look away from him.
Across the room, Gideon has gone perfectly still. The blonde is still talking. He’s not blinking, and his expression tells me I’ve ruined his evening.
And then my eyes move to Ander. He’s already walking toward me.
The woman in red tries to grab his arm. He shrugs her off, and her eyes narrow on me when she recognizes I’m the focus of his attention.
He stops in front of me.
His eyes track from my mouth, down the green silk, all the way to the floor, and back up. By the time he gets to my face, I’m warm everywhere.
“Bianca, I didn’t know you’d be here.”
I do an awkward shimmy. “Surprise.”
Daphne groans.
He glances at Daphne and gives her a tiny chin lift. Daphne returns a glance that is definitely a warning to behave.
They are going to be best friends one day. Neither of them has been informed.
His focus comes back to me, and he leans in half an inch. “You look amazing. Very fuckable.”
“Well, maybe that’s the goal.”
His eyes go wide. He didn’t expect that. Although I don’t know why he didn’t expect that after the filthy things he’s been texting me all week.
He looks at his watch. “Is now a good time?”
“Absolutely not.” I swat him playfully. “I’m here with my best friend.”
He shakes his head, still grinning. “That’s a shame.”
Daphne’s eyes catch on something across the room. “I see my work friends. I’m going to go say hi.”
I touch her arm. “I’ll come with you. I’m your date.”
She gives me a look. “Donovan. You’ll hate it. It’s going to be ninety minutes of lawyer talk, and one of them will try to explain crypto to you.” Her eyes flick to Ander. Then back to me. “Stay with him. Have fun.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” She squeezes my hand once. “Find me later.”
She heads off into the crowd before I can argue.
Ander watches her walk away. “I think your best friend gave me her blessing.”
“She did not.”
“Yes, she did, baby.”
I bite back a smile. He just used a pet name in a very public place.
The woman in red catches up.
“Ander.” She lays her hand on his arm. “You were going to introduce me?—”
“I’m here with someone.” He says it without turning his head.
I’m not here with him, not in any official capacity, but I don’t argue.
His hand comes to rest at the small of my back, on the bare skin where the dress is not. The woman in red glances at his hand, then at my face. She’s gone a second later, and Ander has not moved.
An older man in a gray tux claps Ander on the shoulder before he can say anything else to me. “Sawyer, I’ve been trying to corner you all night.”
Ander’s jaw tightens for half a second before his professional grin slides back into place. He glances at me. “Bianca, give me five minutes.”
I wave him off. “Go. I’ll be at the auction tables.”
“Five minutes.” He says it like a promise, and then he turns back to the man.
I drift toward the auction tables. Daphne is across the room with her work friends. And she was right; I have no interest in being a part of that conversation.
I’m eyeing a vacation package to Maine, which I can’t afford to bid on, when a man is suddenly on my left.
He’s in his mid-fifties with gray hair and bright blue eyes.
He smiles down at me. “You’re Bianca Donovan.”
I keep my eyes on the auction sheet. “Yep.”
“I’ve watched that video about ten times. The one where you put Theo in his place. Beautiful work.”
The way he says beautiful is not about the video.
I turn my head a quarter inch toward him out of politeness, and the second I do, I know it was a mistake. He’s too close. He has a half-finished drink in his hand, and his gaze has not made it up to my face yet.
“You’re even better in person.”
I step back. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
He steps in. “You know, I was telling my friend at the bar that I thought you were the girl from the video. The one with the mouth on her.” His eyes drop again.
Gross. Why do old, rich men think it’s okay to make disgusting innuendos?
I keep my smile in place because a real smile and a fake one look the same from the outside. And a fake one is sometimes the only thing standing between you and a problem.
I take a step away from him. He takes a step closer.
Then a hand lands at the man’s elbow.
“Frank.”
The man’s face changes. The drink tips half an inch in his hand. “Gideon. I didn’t realize you were over here.”
“You’re in Miss Donovan’s way,” Gideon says it without looking at me. He doesn’t raise his voice. His hand stays at Frank’s elbow, applying no visible pressure.
The man tries to explain himself. “Gideon, I’m only having a conversation with the lady.”
“You were having a conversation.”
One word. Past tense. Were.
Frank goes pale. “You’re right. We were done.”
He turns and walks away too fast, and he doesn’t look back.
Gideon’s eyes still avoid me.
He picks up the pen on the auction sheet, writes a number that is not a serious number, sets the pen down, and is gone before I have the chance to say anything.
I stand there for a moment, processing what transpired.
I read the bid he wrote on the cabin in Maine. And now it’s definitely out of my budget.
The band starts up. A slow song.
Ander has surfaced from his bow-tied captor and is at my elbow. His hand is on my lower back like it never left.
“Dance with me.”
I shake my head. “Are you sure it’s a good idea? People here have already recognized me. What if someone sees you with me?”
“I hope they do. I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else.”
He laces his fingers through mine and tugs me toward the floor before I can change my mind.
His hand settles at the small of my back, the other takes mine, and my left hand finds his shoulder.
I look up at him. “Where did you learn to dance?”
“My mom.” His gaze is on my face. “She made all three of us take lessons. Whole drama.”
I love that he’s sharing memories. “You like talking about her.”
“With you, yeah.”
I’m not ready for him to say things like that. I focus on his collar instead of his eyes.