by M. Malone
See what I mean? She never holds back.
Groveling is supposed to be hard work. But Mr. Lavin has been incredibly understanding. In fact, almost too understanding. Every time I try to explain what happened in Vegas, he redirects the conversation.
“Mr. Lavin, I really do want to apologize for lying to you. That was–”
He holds up a hand, pausing me mid-speech. “Andre. Please call me Andre.”
“Right. As I was saying, we really didn’t intend to be dishonest.”
Mr. Lavin leans forwards, starting to say something but has to lean back when the waiter arrives. After hearing an impressive array of specials, I point randomly to something on the menu. Mr. Lavin orders filet mignon and a bottle of wine with a name that I can’t pronounce.
I look around the restaurant. Les Printemps is a well-established, very fancy, restaurant and often a meeting place between the movers and shakers of D.C. Now I’m here, wearing my best little black dress and dining with a client. This feels surreal.
“Thank you for the invitation. I appreciate the opportunity. We didn’t really have time to talk at the office.”
“Of course,” he purrs. “I’ve been intrigued by you from the start. Am I wrong that you felt it, too?”
I pause. Maybe this is a language barrier but I’m starting to get a little uncomfortable.
“Oh no, I’ve definitely been intrigued by Lavin Fashions from the start. The way you mix the masculine and the feminine is groundbreaking. Your designs have ushered in a new way of thinking about the female form.”
“Cara mia, I am always thinking about the female form.”
His slow smile is so intimate that I can almost hear the woman at the next table sigh. Jeez, this guy just drips Italian charisma. You can almost get high from the pheromones. I don’t even think he realizes the effect he has. Flirting is just second nature to him.
“Of course. But in regards to the campaign–”
My eyes land on a man sitting right behind Mr. Lavin. He was seated a few minutes ago and it barely registered. I’ve been completely focused on explaining my bad behavior. But when he shifts his menu to the left, I can’t deny that something about the shape of those shoulders is really familiar.
“More wine, Mya?”
I snap back to attention. “No, thank you. It’s probably better if I don’t. Otherwise I might forget everything I wanted to discuss.”
He winks. “There is no need to rush, bella. We have all night.”
“All night? Why would we have all night?” Oh god, did I zone out and miss something? Focus, Mya.
He pauses, his fingers on the stem of his wineglass. “Well, I assumed after dinner perhaps we could go dancing. Whatever you wish.”
Something about the way he’s looking at me makes me pause. My eyes bounce over the table, the single candle in the middle, the lily he presented me with when I arrived. If I hadn’t come charging in here so focused on professional redemption, I would have seen it before.
This scenario looks nothing like a business meeting. The stage has been set for romance not business.
I’m on a date with Andre Lavin.
“Oh boy,” I whisper under my breath.
If you’d asked me earlier if there was any way I could screw up this business arrangement any worse, I’d have assured you that we were already at rock bottom. But now I’m on a date, that I didn’t know was a date, talking about business while Mr. Lavin has apparently been talking about something else entirely.
As Ariana would say, fuck a duck.
“Mr. Lavin–”
“Andre,” he corrects automatically.
“Right. This is awkward. I’m not really sure what to say. I wasn’t aware that this was a personal…” I struggle to find the right words, “meeting.”
He leans across the table, his dark eyes never leaving mine. “You are a very beautiful woman, Mya. I find you intoxicating.”
Despite not being interested at all, I find myself melting a little under that gaze. Hey, don’t judge me until you’ve sat in a dimly lit room across from a handsome billionaire while he calls you intoxicating. Most women would have already thrown their panties at him.
“Wow. I honestly don’t know what to say. This is a bit of a shock.” And also a potential landmine. If I stay, I risk him getting the wrong idea. If I go, then I might offend him and damage any chance there is of Mirage getting his business.
His eyes narrow slightly. “I was under the impression that you were aware of my interest. Ever since Vegas.”
“When Milo told you he’d be the best fit for this job? Yeah, I overheard you two talking. That’s why I’m here. I wanted the chance to talk about my ideas for your campaign. I’m not sure what Milo told you but I really feel that my ideas for marketing the groom’s tuxedos alongside the bridal gowns will set you apart.”
Andre sits back, his expression measured. “Is that what you think we talked about in Vegas? No, we didn’t talk about the account. We talked about you.”
“Me?”
“Mr. Hamilton was quite clear that he didn’t appreciate my interest in you. He warned me to stay away from you.”
“He did?” My mind is racing, trying to fit this new knowledge in with my memories of the trip. How did Milo find time to speak to Mr. Lavin alone when we were together the whole time?
Mr. Lavin laughs softly. Even his laugh is elegant, a sort of low, rumbling growl. “It was very late after dinner when I encountered Mr. Hamilton at the bar. He made it clear that you were involved.”
“We’re not together. I mean, we’re not a couple.”
My heart clenches at the reminder. I’ve been so angry with Milo, thinking that he’d gone behind my back. More so, thinking that he’d valued business over our developing relationship. But now I find out that he wasn’t thinking about business at all, he was trying to protect me?
“Not many men would threaten the competition over a woman who’s just a friend. You’re lucky to have found someone who would do anything, even jeopardize his career for you.”
“Milo threatened you?” My eyes seek out his. This close I can see the unusual shading of his striking dark eyes and smell the subtle aroma of his cologne. Any other woman would be drooling. But all I can think about are a pair of laughing blue eyes. “You must have misunderstood.”
“I assure you he was quite clear.” Andre smiles wryly. “After that I was discouraged. I would not pursue a woman who is engaged to be married. But after what I overheard at your office…”
Just then a waiter appears holding a plate aloft. When he lowers it, Milo’s face appears. “Someone ordered a steak?”
“Milo?”
He drops the plate unceremoniously on the table and then slides into the booth next to me. Mr. Lavin watches, his eyes twinkling at the sudden turn of events. He doesn’t even seem perturbed, just picks up the wine bottle again.
“Mr. Hamilton, I didn’t know you’d be joining us. Wine?”
Milo glares at him before grabbing the bottle. “Don’t mind if I do.” He takes a swig directly from the bottle. “You didn’t waste any time making your move, I see.”
“I never waste time. Life is too short. We have a saying in Italy. Vivi il presente. It means to live in the moment.” He picks up his fork and cuts into his steak.
“We have a saying where I’m from too,” Milo retorts. “Back the fuck off and find your own girl.”
I whack Milo in the chest. “Would you stop? Nothing happened. We’re just talking.”
Before he can say anything else, the real waiter arrives. He looks at the plate on the table and then at the one he’s carrying. “Your meal, sir?”
Mr. Lavin looks down at the steak he’s just taken a bite of, his brow wrinkling in confusion.
We all turn at the sound of a commotion. A man across the dining room is pointing at our table and gesticulating wildly.
Milo shrugs. “Yeah, I just grabbed that plate off a random table.” He salutes the man acros
s the room. “You could do with less red meat, buddy. Heart disease is a killer!”
Mr. Lavin chokes slightly before spitting the food into a napkin. “Well played, Mr. Hamilton.”
I put a hand to my forehead. We’re going to end up getting arrested. That’s if no one ends up with food poisoning first.
While the waiter takes the renegade plate away, Mr. Lavin suddenly pats his suit pocket. He pulls out his cell phone. The smile on his face disappears and he stands.
“Mi scusi. I must take this call.”
As soon as he’s gone, I turn to Milo. “What the hell are you doing?”
23
I watch Mr. Lavin walk away, confident even under pressure. Not many could be so cool even when confronted by a rival. It’s annoying that I admire him so much.
Bastard.
“Are you happy now? We’ll be lucky if they don’t throw us out of this place.” Mya’s words are cross but she doesn’t really seem angry that I’m here.
“I’m sorry, was I interrupting? You two seemed awfully cozy.” My eyes land on the flower next to her plate.
She flushes. “About that. It’s not what you think.”
“Are you sure? Because it looks like Mr. Lavin asked you on a date and you showed up to have dinner with him.”
“Maybe it is what it looks like,” Mya continues hurriedly, “but only because my brain functioning was impaired by too much Chunky Monkey. I thought he wanted to talk about the work we put in.”
Oh, that Italian fucker wanted to put some work in, all right. He was planning to give her a naked workout in his hotel room later.
“You really thought he wanted to talk about the campaign?”
She huffs. “It seemed like it. At first. But then he told me what you said to him in Vegas. How you told him to stay away from me.”
“Of course I did. Mya, that man wants you. The question is whether you want him back, because if you do, then I’ll leave now.” I slide closer until we’re thigh-to-thigh. “But I want you to ask yourself, will he do the things to you I can do?”
Her breathing quickens and she shifts in her seat.
“Do you get wet when you think of him?” I continue in a low voice, sliding a hand onto her thigh. The thin fabric of her dress is little barrier as my fingers climb higher.
“No. I only feel that way about you.” A soft moan slips from her lips when my finger finds home and presses. Hard. If we weren’t sitting down already she probably would have collapsed.
“Good. Because I wanted to punch that smug fucker’s face the entire time he was sitting here.” I edge her panties aside.
“Oh my god, Milo! We’re in public.” She sounds appalled but she’s also not saying no.
I grin wickedly but my finger slows slightly. “Tell me you won’t see him again.”
She bites her lip. “I won’t see him again. Not like this. But maybe it’s best if we don’t jump right back in. It only hurt so much because I realized how quickly things were moving. I don’t want to get hurt again. Men like you don’t settle down. And I’m not expecting anything. You never made any promises.”
“Oh but I did. You just weren’t listening.” I turn, wishing we were anywhere but this cramped booth. “My body made promises to yours the first time we made love. My lips promised you pleasure every time we kissed.”
Her eyes look wounded. “You know what I mean. It was just sex. I knew that going in. It’s my fault that I suddenly found myself wanting more.”
“I know about wanting more, Mya. I’ve botched this thing so badly I don’t even know where to begin to repair things, so I’ll do what I should have done that night in Vegas.” I grab her hand. “Mya Christine Taylor, I have been in love with you since, well, since forever.”
“You love me?” Mya’s eyes fill with tears as she tries to yank her hand back. “You’ve never said that before.”
“All those times I made up stupid excuses to argue with you, I was saying I love you. When I dropped everything to rescue you from dry humping random guys in a bar, I was saying I love you. From poker nights with your parents, to getting kicked out of my own shower, I told you every day in every way I knew how. I’m sorry I’m not better at this.”
Mya kisses me softly. “Actually, you’re doing just fine.”
I yank her back and our lips meet again, and this time there’s nothing soft about it. My mouth slants over hers, taking the kiss so deep and wet that I think we both forget where we are.
Until…
Andre clears his throat and we both turn to look at him. “I apologize Miss Taylor but I have to cut this short. My brother who is here visiting the States with me has been in a minor accident. I need to go to the hospital.”
“Oh no, I’m so sorry to hear that.” Mya tries to stand but I remain seated, blocking her in the booth. She huffs and shoves all her weight at me which does nothing other than cause her to hurt her own hip.
Andre watches us struggling with amusement. “Even though this dinner has not gone the way I’d hoped, I must admit it has been entertaining. Please, stay and enjoy dinner. I’ve instructed the manager to put it all on my tab.” He inclines his head to both of us. “I’ll be in touch soon about the campaign. But in the meantime, if either of you ever needs anything, feel free to call.”
We both sit in shock as he strides away.
“Did he just say that he would be in touch about–” Mya turns to me with a look of confusion that mirrors how I feel.
I have to give him credit. He knows how to keep us guessing. “That motherfucker is enjoying this. He knows he’s got us on pins and needles about whether we’ll get this job. But I don’t even care anymore.”
“You don’t?”
“No. This account has been nothing but trouble from the start.”
“Why didn’t you tell me what was going on in Vegas?”
“Because I didn’t want to put you in that position. I wasn’t sure if you’d feel pressured to flirt with him to get the account. Not that I thought James would ask you to but still, the pressure would have been there.”
I hesitate. That’s not entirely the truth but the answer to this question is complicated. And revealing. But then I think of everything we’ve gone through to get to this moment. Most of the trouble could have been avoided if I’d been honest and hadn’t let my fear of rejection steer the way. Mya is nothing like Tessa. She’s never done anything to make me believe she cares about power or position. In fact, the only thing she’s ever actually asked me for is… me.
“That was part of it but also he’s handsome, rich and well-connected. All I could think was that I’d lose you before I even had the chance to tell you how I felt.”
“You were jealous.” Her voice trembles slightly.
She’s not going to let me off the hook even now. That’s my ballbuster. “Yes, I was jealous.”
“You didn’t need to be.” Mya leans over and kisses my cheek. “I didn’t want him. The only man I wanted was the one I was fake engaged to.”
Suddenly it hits me that we’re still sitting in this restaurant in public when we could be at home. Alone.
“Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
It’s time I prove to Mya that there’s nothing fake about my feelings for her. If I want to win her heart, it’s time to put it all on the line. These are the highest stakes I’ve ever encountered and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get there.
And I’m not above begging if I have to.
24
You’d think after such an intense emotion dump that we’d be super talkative on the way home. But Milo and I are both quiet as we drive back to his place. He keeps looking over at me, as if he’s afraid that I’ll disappear.
Not that I can blame him. I’ve already pinched myself a time or two.
When we get to his apartment, I drop my bag near the door while he walks around turning on lights. Now that we’re alone together, I’m starting to get a little nervous. He said he loves me and that he w
ants us to be together but practically speaking, I’m not entirely sure what that means. Are we going to tell everyone that we’re not really engaged but just a couple? Are we starting over from scratch and going to go on dates?
The thought makes me smile. I can’t imagine going to a restaurant to meet Milo for a date like he’s just some guy I saw on Tinder.
“I should probably call Ariana. She’ll worry if I don’t come home.”
Milo nods. “We definitely don’t want her to worry. She’d show up at the restaurant demanding answers or start an online petition to find out where Mr. Lavin hid your body.”
I’m laughing but that’s not inaccurate. Ari is a bit of a conspiracy theorist and if I disappeared for any length of time, she’s the type to jump to conclusions.
She answers on the first ring. “Uh oh, if you’re calling me that probably means your business deal went bad. Why are you calling me?”
“Everything is fine. Better than fine. Milo showed up and we talked. It turns out that conversation I overheard wasn’t about business at all. He was just telling Mr. Lavin that I was already taken.”
Ari whistles. “O-kay then. So Happy Hour Hottie was staking his claim. I knew I liked him. I’m really glad he didn’t let me down.”
“Because it’s all about you, huh?”
She snorts. “You’re damn straight. No one else had to put up with your grungy ass on the couch eating all the ice cream. So if you’re calling me that must mean you’re with Milo now.”
“Yeah. I didn’t want you to worry when I didn’t come home.”
“Now I’m just worried for a different reason.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh it’s nothing. Just tell Triple H that if he gets a bag of exploding dick confetti at work, that I’m sorry.”
“What?”
“Never mind. Let’s let it happen. Consider it future payback for the next time he fucks up. Anyway, have fun!”
I’m still laughing when she hangs up. Exploding dick confetti is probably the most tame on the list of things Ariana could have sent him. So I decide to take her advice and let it happen. Variety is the spice of life, right?
