Chapter 50
“Sure you’re ready for this?” Lucky asks, getting frustrated with his bow tie.
He’s on his third attempt to tie it. I’m no help, and honestly, he’d look better without it—or any clothes, but it’s not that kind of party.
“I hate these blasted things.” He groans and rips it off, stuffing it into his pocket.
“More than ready,” I say, meaning it.
Tonight is a big night, a celebration of the city and my biggest opportunity yet to make the connections I’ll need to support my career.
I earned this invite.
I don’t even care that Monica will be there.
She’s always gloated about being the only attendee from The Observer, and I am especially looking forward to wiping the smile off her face by walking in with my head held high.
Lucky sneaks up behind me, sliding his hands down my full hips. His tattoos peek out from his tuxedo and make him look more dangerous, not less.
“You look incredible, love.”
“I was just thinking the same thing about you.”
* * *
Adrenaline builds in my belly as we step into the ballroom. The mayor is here, along with half of the city’s elite. If ever I wanted a pull quote, now’s the time. It might be fun to hound a slippery CEO while they sip champagne and have to play calm.
Maybe next year …
Lucky slips his hand from my back to my waist, protective. “Christ, look at them all.”
The room is a blur of starched collars and polite smiles. “Almost makes me want to ruffle some feathers.”
“Attagirl.”
The evening is, in short, a black-tie networking event. Sure, there’ll be a speech and some toasts to a better tomorrow, but it’s largely a self-congratulatory pat on the back. Safe. Gentle.
“The point is not to do anything, but to be seen,” my new boss, Zia, told me as she handed me the embossed invitation.
Slowly, we begin to circle the room.
“Seen the demon yet?” Lucky asks.
“Not yet. She must have …” Any thought I have dies because six feet away is Sterling Ross.
He never comes to these things. He hates parties and pretending, and he absolutely abhors schmoozing.
He barely likes people.
Why is he here?
“I’m going to get us a drink, love. There’s a bar over … holy fuck.”
Oh good, I’m not hallucinating. Lucky sees him too.
“He looks incredible,” I say, my mouth dry. “Black’s always been his color.”
Lucky fits himself to my back, his arms coming possessively around me as we both stare. “He’d look better without it. What do you say? First one to get in his pants wins.”
Brazenly, Lucky traces his thumb along the underside of my breast, sending my pulse skyrocketing.
I know he’s teasing, know he’s not really suggesting we try to do something as ridiculous as flirt with Sterling, but, fuck, just thinking about it …
My God.
Then the impossible happens.
Sterling locks eyes with me, and my heart crashes to a standstill. He’s not wearing his glasses tonight. I didn’t know it was possible for his gaze to get more intense, but it is.
“Do you think he knows how much you want him?” Lucky asks, his voice rough.
“He wants you too,” I add, like a defense. I’m not used to anyone knowing about my crush. It’s hard to remember Lucky is okay with it.
More than okay, from the way Lucky presses his hips closer, his arousal obvious. Fuck.
Sterling looks between us in long, silent breaths. I don’t know what I’m expecting. Surprise? Disappointment? Anger?
But it never comes.
Of course he already knows about our relationship. Sterling is always three steps ahead.
Holding our gaze, he lifts his glass and nods. A toast to …
“Still think he’s not interested?”
My nipples tingle from Lucky’s heat and Sterling’s attention. I’m not sure I remember my name right now, let alone anything else.
I step out of Lucky’s arms, tearing my gaze from Sterling, in search of a drink.
To my relief, I find Zia, smiling and waving me over. Good. I need a distraction.
“I’m going to go say hi,” I tell Lucky.
“That’s a great idea. I think I’ll do the same.”
And I don’t need to ask who he’s going to talk to because he hasn’t taken his eyes off of Sterling since we spotted him.
I catch Lucky’s hand. “Find me later?”
He raises it to his lips, his eyes blazing with mischief. “Always.”
I’m not ready to talk to Sterling yet. If at all. I’m not convinced he cares, no matter what Lucky says.
Zia looks fantastic in a patterned gown, embroidered with gold, her black pixie styled in finger waves, her lips a rich purple. She looks like a movie star.
“Take this,” she says, passing me a thick tumbler, garnished with orange and mint, that matches the one she’s already holding and clinking our glasses together. “Cheers. I hope you enjoy yourself tonight. It’s going to be an interesting week ahead.”
I know. First thing tomorrow, my article—exposing a popular sleepwear company of lying about the fire resistance of the fabric used in their kids’ line—hits the front page.
The fallout will be messy.
“What if they sue?”
She smiles. “That’s what I pay the lawyers for. Besides, the evidence you collected stands up. I wouldn’t have green-lit the article if I didn’t think we could protect you.”
Have I mentioned how amazing Zia is? Easily the best boss I’ve ever had—the complete opposite of Monica in every way. Warm, interesting, and incredibly smart.
I’m going to be a better reporter for working with her.
“Relax,” she adds. “Getting on people’s shit list is a good thing. It’ll stop them from underestimating you.”
She’s right, and I feel my earlier confidence returning, solidifying like concrete under my feet as I turn back around, instantly finding Lucky and Sterling across the crowd.
It’s not difficult. They’re taller than everyone else.
Hotter too.
“Have you seen Monica?”
Zia looks surprised. “You didn’t hear?”
I whip my head back to her. “Hear what?”
She leans in conspiratorially. “Sterling Ross had her fired. He threatened to quit if she wasn’t let go, and there’s rumblings that he wants to sue her for workplace harassment on behalf of another reporter, but no one will tell me who.” Zia shrugs.
The industry is small. If it is true, it won’t be long until she finds what she’s after.
She doesn’t seem to notice that I’m shocked silent. This isn’t a coincidence. I know that. When something walks like a duck, talks like a duck … well …
Quack, quack.
What I don’t understand is why.
Zia continues, “The next thing I know, I’m getting a call, telling me her noncompete excludes us from offering her a position, and we weren’t the only ones.”
Holy shit.
She touches my arm. “Oh, got to go. I see the mayor trying to slip into the restroom, and I’m not leaving tonight until I get us that interview.”
“Good luck.”
I last five seconds before turning back to the source of my attention.
I can’t take my eyes off them.
Sterling stands out, his dark curls brushed back, his cheekbones sharp under the glow of the chandeliers, casting shadows over his strong jaw.
The three-piece he’s wearing might as well be painted on.
It highlights the broad stretch of his shoulders and his trim waist, and my mouth goes dry every time I look for too long.
Beside him, Lucky is no less delicious, the top few buttons of his shirt open at the collar, and while his jacket can’t do his arms and ass justice, I know Sterling is aware of them.
Even from across the room, I can tell when Sterling’s gaze drops and looks away from Lucky’s body.
I don’t blame him; it deserves its own wing in a museum.
Watching them like this, I can picture them together. Lucky is doing most of the talking, his trademark smirk in place, while Sterling sips on champagne.
All of a sudden, his gaze shifts, meeting mine in an instant, holding as Lucky leans in to say something in his ear. Sterling licks his lips, and I flush from head to toe.
I have to know.
I stride over, my pulse racing, letting the tart taste of the cocktail fuel me.
“Ask, and she will appear,” Lucky says, pulling me in for a kiss that makes my knees weak.
“Let her breathe, Lachlan.”
Lucky complies, looking a little smug. “Couldn’t help myself.”
Sterling unbuttons his jacket with one hand. It’s effortlessly charming. “I think you could, if you were properly motivated.”
I have no idea what is happening right now, but if it gets any hotter in here, I’ll catch on fire.
Maybe I should go, and I would, except Sterling turns those endless blue eyes on me, dark enough to be the night sky itself, and my legs won’t move.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight. You usually hate these things.”
“Still do,” he replies, proving nothing has changed. “I came because I knew you’d be here.”
“I …” When the rest of my words dry up, I swallow the ash with my drink. Come on, confidence. “Here I thought, you were only here because you were working.”
His eyes cut across the floor, tracking someone or something intensely.
“Wait, are you working right now?”
Sterling says nothing, but as he slides one hand into his pocket, I catch it—the slightest flicker of a smile.
He is. He’s working. I knew it.
“Claire Westlin has been particularly difficult to get an interview with. In my experience, that’s an indication of fear.”
I find the airline COO a few feet away, alone with an empty glass. She’s tall and statuesque, with an air of detachment, but Sterling’s wrong.
“She doesn’t want to talk to you because you’re intimidating, not because she’s hiding something. Lucky, go talk to her; show him he’s being ridiculous.”
Lucky smiles at Sterling while kissing my cheek. “Happy to.”
We both watch him walk over.
“Does he always do what you tell him?” Sterling asks, his voice low.
“Yes, he’s good like that.”
“I remember.”
A shiver rolls down my spine.
“What about you, Mia? Are you good? Would you do what I told you?”
It’s getting difficult to breathe. My pulse is fluttering in my throat.
Yes, my heart whispers.
My body agrees.
Across the room, I hear Lucky laugh, but I don’t look. I can’t. I’m afraid if I do, Sterling and this moment will disappear.