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45
IT HAD TO BE YOU BY RAY CHARLES
CAT
Makeup artists and hair stylists arrive at the penthouse early on Saturday. Sophie and I crank Mariah Carey and Katy Perry up loud while we primp and sip champagne all afternoon. Dexter and Jay arrive around the same time, and I can’t help but feel like everything we’ve ever wanted is laid out before us, ripe for the taking. Not only our career dreams, but the men who have taken us completely by surprise.
“Are you making it official tonight?” I ask Sophie as she applies her last coat of lipstick before we leave.
Her eyes meet mine in the mirror as she blots. “I’d say your night will be more monumental than mine.”
I dip my chin and blush at what she’s referring to.
“But yes. With me going to Paris, it probably makes more sense to pull back. We’ll be long distance…but,” she spins to face me and shrugs, “he says he wants to try.”
I smile. “Of course he does. Who would want to risk losing you? It’s only six months. In the grand scheme of things, what could really change in six months?”
In reality, the pep talk is more for my benefit than hers. Jay and I still haven’t talked about what those six months mean for us. Last night, he was out late with Carter, and when he came to bed, I was more focused on returning the favor he’d given me in his office than broaching that terrifying subject. This morning, I woke up with him between my legs, and then he had to rush off for a meeting.
But tonight…tonight will change everything. Jay reserved a room for us at the Beacon Hotel for after the ball, and then I’ll finally experience what it’s like to have him sinking inside me. But I’m not naïve enough to believe that, in his eyes, having sex automatically means we’re serious. That he’s interested in trying the long-distance thing.
But I do trust in the way he looks at me, the way he’s cared for me. The way he insists on spending our evenings and nights together and how he begs to hold me every morning. Though I won’t assume to know his thoughts on the matter, I don’t think either of us believes that Paris will be the end of us. We’ll figure it out.
“You nervous?” Sophie asks.
“About the ball? God, yes. I think Jay and I have thought of everything, but this is freaking Jolie magazine!Everyonewho’s anyone will be there.”
Sophie squeezes my hand. “The event will go great. I mean are you nervous for tonight?”
I bite my lip as I study Jay. He’s talking to Dexter by the window with a whiskey in his hand. Perhaps feeling my gaze, he turns to me, stops talking, and breathes deeply before mouthing, “Gorgeous.”
I smile and look back at Sophie. “No. I’m not nervous. Jay will take care of me.”
She laughs. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure he will.”
I smack her, the warmth of the moment drowned out by her teasing. “Let’s get going.” I stride toward the door, but after a few steps, when she hasn’t moved from the spot, I sigh. “Are you coming?”
“Yup, and so are you tonight,” she says with a laugh and does a mock drum tap.
* * *
The imagesI conjured of this event in my head don’t do it justice. Black organza fabric sparkles above us as it hangs from the chandelier and drapes across to the windows, giving an elegant, otherworldly feel to the room. Each table is adorned with onyx candelabras of different sizes and vases filled with burgundy roses with the tips painted black.
The entire space glows lavishly from nothing but flickering candlelight. The masks we’ve all donned for the ball hide our identities from all but those who know us well, which brings a freedom to my movements beside Jay.
Yes, Cynthia is here, but she’s busy working the room.
And outside of her, Sophie, and Dexter, no one has any idea who we are. Or, more accurately, they don’t know who I am. Everyone knows Jonathan Hanson. And that’s who he is tonight. Working the room with me at his side, Jay is every bit the future CEO of Hanson Liquors.
“Dance with me,” he murmurs in my ear as a masked man consults him about the fires that are affecting the grains this year. “I’m sorry, Carl,” he says, interrupting the old man’s rantings. “My date has been patient all night, but I promised her a dance.”
The older man turns to me and shakes his head. “Of course. Enjoy yourselves.”
With a warm hand on my lower back, Jay pushes me a little too eagerly toward the dance floor.
I stifle a giggle at his enthusiasm. “I’m fine if you want to continue the conversation,” I tease.
“Shut it, you,” he says as he pulls me into his arms and sways. “I’m not going to lie, Kitten. You in that fucking mask? Damn. I can’t stop fantasizing about you sucking my cock while you wear it.”
