Page 111 of Manhattan Bossholes

I laughed as she stared across the room at her latest conquest, who’d flown in from Italy to be a part of the celebration. “Who’s stopping you? Vincent and I have found our way around more than a few closets.”

“Is it bad form to want to fuck your translator at an upscale event? Do we have a company policy against fraternization?”

We both knew she was joking, since I’d made a point to exclude that aspect in our company handbook. I knew firsthand that falling in love at work could be magical. Plus, Lorenzo wasn’t even an official Strapped employee. Our freelance translator for our Italy team was fluent in Italian, English, and, as Darcy was discovering, the international language of love.

I watched as the handsome, dark haired man caught Darcy’s eye and turned on the smolder, like there was no one in the room but the two of them.

“Darcy, that’s basically an engraved invitation to get laid,” I whispered to her. “Go get your man.”

“On it.” She paused to take me in, then reached for my hand. “You okay? Feeling good?”

“Feeling amazing,” I replied, as a warmth spread through me.

She gave my hand a squeeze and headed for Lorenzo, leaving me a few seconds to drink in the moment.

“Hey,” Vincent whispered in my ear from behind. His delicious scent unfurled all around me. “How’s my gorgeous fiancée doing?”

I turned to face him. “So perfect.”

“You look absolutely stunning,” he smiled at me, and I felt a little shimmer of pleasure, just from the way he was looking at me. “Have I told you that yet? Pink suits you. But then again, everything does.”

I blushed and smoothed down the tiered ruffle dress. “This old thing?”

It was an inside joke, because when I’d bought it, I’d felt like I needed to confess how much I’d paid for the dress and fascinator with a swoopy feather. Vincent had laughed at me, explaining that he’d had bottles of wine that cost more.

“Look at you,” I continued. “I think we might need to make top hats for dudes a requirement at the wedding.”

“Don’t you dare,” he glowered. “The only reason I’m wearing this ridiculous thing,” he swept it off and bowed in front of me, “is because Chloe insisted.”

“Well, you look devastating. Like you stepped out of a romance novel.”

He slid his finger under my chin and lifted it, staring at my face. He frowned. “And you look a little pale. Did you eat? I know parties like this can get overwhelming, and you forget to do anything but down champagne.” He glanced down at my hands. “Hold on, you don’t even have a drink!”

I slid my arms around him and hugged him close, pressing my cheek against his chest. “I feel like I’m already drunk.”

He didn’t know how real the sensation was for me. I was a little fuzzy-headed and unsteady in my strappy silver Louboutins, but it wasn’t due to a lack of food.

A few people around us applauded as we embraced, and Vincent took advantage of the moment and danced me in a circle in time to the Sinatra soundtrack.

It was yet another change in him. Vincent Forde, dancing!

He took my hand to pirouette me, and the fast movement made me clutch my fingers against my lips. When he looked down at me, he furrowed with worry. “Are you sick? What’s wrong?”

“Can we talk for a second?” I asked.

Vincent’s frown intensified. “What’s going on?”

“Just come with me,” I said as I pulled him out of the grand space and into the butler’s pantry by the kitchen.

Vincent watched me skeptically. “You’ve got me very freaked out, Piper.”

My heart thudded in my chest, because this moment was about to change everything between us.

“I know you like a plan,” I began slowly. “No, you need a plan. It’s part of the reason why you’re so successful. You map out a strategy and follow it to a tee. But sometimes…” I smiled at him, “sometimes life has other ideas.”

He was shaking his head as I spoke. “I don’t like the sound of this. At all. What’s going on?”

“Vincent…” I moved forward to take his hands in mine. “I know we said we needed to wait to start a family, but…” I let go of one of his hands and ran it down my stomach.