Page 75 of Dirty Boss

“It means you don’t understand what will happen when I walk in on your arm, Vaughn.”

“Heads will turn. Men will wish they were me. Women will wish they were you. And you’ll be all mine.”

She hummed quietly, like she was considering it. “Maybe,” she conceded. “In a fantasyland of your making.”

I laughed. “Okay. Tell me about your fantasyland, then.”

“We’ll walk in, and everyone from my old life will turn to look at me. They won’t recognize you, but they’ll dissect everything about you from the way you hold your head to the way you treat the staff to the level of shine on your shoes. I’ll undergo the same scrutiny, but worse, because they’ll all be wondering how in the hell I got a ticket.”

Discomfort squirmed through me. This gala would be everything I hated. All the vapid fakery. All the pretentious airs and turned-up noses. I already knew I was going to feel uncomfortable from the moment the car door opened to let me out at the venue. My father, on the other hand, would’ve lovedevery minute of it. I rubbed my forehead. “So? Who cares what they think?”

“I do, Vaughn,” Alba admitted. “I’ve been humiliated, and if this is going to be my big F-U moment, I want to make the most of it.”

There was a note in her voice that pulled me back from my own discomfort. Alba needed me. I’d pushed her to come with me, because I wanted my moment with her by my side. But I was asking something of her that was bigger than me feeling uncomfortable.

The people at that gala had thrown her out and turned their backs on her. She said it herself: they’d humiliated her. If I wanted her to trust me—be with me—then I needed to make sure she knew I was there for her. Things with Arlo Noble had progressed; his team was trawling through our financials and making all the right noises. The gala was the final hoop to jump through. I could afford to step back and let Alba have her moment.

“So tell me about this dress,” I said. “What does it have to do? Shoot fire from your nipples to destroy your enemies, or something?”

Alba laughed. “Close, but no. It has to strike a perfect balance between unbelievably memorable and not main-character-y. I have to look like I didn’t try too hard while also being flawless. Timeless without being outdated. Trendy without being flashy.”

“I’m regretting ever agreeing to go to this event.”

“You and me both, Vaughn,” she said, laughing. “And I’ve got a little over a week to make this happen.”

“I believe in you,” I said.

There was a short silence, and I could hear the shy smile in Alba’s voice when she replied, “Thank you.” It made me realize that she needed to hear these things. She needed to know how amazing she was and how highly I thought of her.

Which reminded me: “Are you free for dinner this weekend?”

“You want to go over the cutlery again?”

I huffed. “Not quite…”

TWENTY-SIX

ALBA

If our lastdate had been one for the history books, this one was too—but for different reasons. Vaughn’s ex-wife sat directly across from me, her eyes slightly narrowed as she scanned my face. Judging. Finding me lacking, evidently.

I resisted the urge to go on the offensive and smiled blandly at her. “The way Vaughn talks about your daughter, it sounds like you’ve done a wonderful job.”

“What is it that you do for work again?” she asked, tilting her head as she ignored my compliment. Her tone made Vaughn sigh and Dale, her current husband, move his arm so it was slung around the back of her chair, his hand making soothing strokes over her shoulder.

My smile remained stuck on my face through sheer force of will. This reminded me of countless events where I had to make nice with someone awful because of their last name. People weren’t so different, no matter how many zeroes they had in their bank account.

“I’m a consultant,” I replied, nodding in thanks as the waiter filled my glass of water.

“Huh,” Tiffany replied. “And what is it, exactly, that you consult on?”

“Tiff, come on,” Vaughn said. “We’re just here to get to know each other.”

“Why do you think I’m asking these questions?” she shot back. “I’m trying to get to know the woman you’ll be bringing around my daughter?—”

“Ourdaughter?—”

“—and make sure she’s not some sort of sociopath?—”