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She straightens. “Really? Did you learnsomething?”
I nod. “He was implicated in an antitrust issue on behalf of his dad’scompany.”
“Huh. Do you think he didit?”
“I don’t know. But I sent you what Ihave.”
"Thank you. You're alifesaver."
"I am." I pocket herphone.
“What are youdoing?”
“Rescuing my girlfriend. Even though she’s been very bad and doesn’t deserveit.”
I pull her toward the dance floor, where some of our friends are already dancing. The music is upbeat and not what I’d choose, but I don’tcare.
"If I was trying to impress you,” she starts, “I'd stay far away from a dance floor. A podium? That I canrock."
My mouth twitches. “You'd seduce me with publicspeaking?"
“My oration skills are second tonone."
“Fuck, that’s hot. I’m a sucker for a beautiful womanmonologuing.”
Daisy settles into a spot in front of me, the laughter fading from her eyes. “So what Rena said yesterday, about the way I look at you… it'sbullshit."
"That's disappointing. It would be nice to know you rub one out to me once in awhile.”
Her eyes widen. “Seriously,Ben?”
Igrin.
“Wait. Doyoujerk off to me?” The way she sucks in a breath has my abstightening.
Call me an asshole, but I want her to wonder. I want it to keep her up atnight.
When I decided Daisy would be the ideal fake girlfriend, it seemed natural, but in this club, the possibility of running our venture firm feels far away, and the stakes of our friendship are real and important andeverywhere.
My hands tighten and I pull her close oninstinct.
“Are they watching?” she asks, thinking that’s why I grabbedher.
I glance over the crowd toward the table. “Yes.”
Her body stiffens, dark lashes blinking. I want to see inside her head, to know what’s responsible for that reaction. If she can feel my touch through this dress I bought her without permission, and whether it sent a little jolt through her body like it didmine.
Now those distracting tits are brushing my chest through myshirt.
We’re pretending, I remind myself. But the implication—that there are consequences of under-acting, of failing to look interested—provides a racy carte blanche under the dark lights of theclub.
“I’m glad you came tonight," I say over themusic.
“I almost didn’t, but I told Marc I’d get a drink with him later thisweek.”
My grip tightens on her hips hard enough she flinches. “You’d rather be with Wall Street than withme?”
The question is more earnest than I’dlike.
