The DJ switched the music, and The Beatles “Birthday” blasted over the speakers. Emma, Michael, Rudy, and Valerie were all amongst the front lines, and they swarmed over him now.
“Happy birthday, Daddy!” Emma shouted, jumping up to put her arms around his shoulders. “Are you surprised?”
“I may be in clinical shock.” He laughed, squeezing her tight. He looked to Rudy and Valerie. “Were you in on this?”
“It was all Sophie and me,” Emma gushed.
“You have no idea how difficult it was to not totally ruin it.” I rose on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Happy birthday, baby.”
“So when should we expect the midlife crisis?” Rudy quipped. “Will it be an earring, or another expensive car?”
“Both.” Valerie laughed. She hugged Neil, and I distanced myself from them, to avoid feeling like I was trapped in an awkward three-way embrace.
Rudy raised a perfect eyebrow in my direction. I just smiled back at him. Even though he was Neil’s best friend, he had an antagonistic streak when it came to me. Probably because he was Neil’s best friend; he didn’t want to see him get hurt.
“You know,” I said, stepping away from Neil’s side as he spoke with Valerie and another party guest whom I didn’t recognize. “Tonight is Neil’s birthday. Do you think you and I could get along, just for a few hours?”
It was hard to stare down someone as handsome as Rudy. He had flawless dark skin and sleepy eyes that still somehow laser focused on his target. He dressed like a man who’d been born in Louis Vuitton, and no matter how cool he might act toward me, I had to admire the aesthetics he worked so hard to maintain.
He pursed his lips and pushed up his thick, black-framed glasses with an elegantly pointed middle finger.
“Oh, very mature, Rudy.” Neil’s voice surprised me as he slid his arm around my waist. He didn’t sound annoyed at us, partially, I think, because he liked being fought over. His hand closed possessively over my hip, and he motioned toward the bar. “I have been at my own birthday party for five minutes, and there is not a drink in my hand.”
We made our way to the bar, Neil stopping to chat with and hug the guests we passed. Others were already on the dance floor, where the DJ was impressively mixing “Where Did Our Love Go” by The Supremes with a house beat.
When I’d told Neil I’d never been inside 1 OAK, I hadn’t been lying. Only the coolest people in New York got in, and while I thought I was pretty awesome, I knew I wasn’t Beyoncé awesome. While Neil laughed and talked with his friends, I scoped out the surroundings. The ceiling was wood, the same as the facade of the building. Exposed brick peeked between huge black and white photos and decadent curtain panels of subtly metallic fabric. The floor was a white and black zig-zag of tile that I was certain would be dizzying if it weren’t broken up by the shoes of the guests walking over it.
When we stepped up to the bar, Neil asked me, “Now, what kind of depressing, middle-aged-man-desperately-trying-to-recapture-his-youth drink should I have?”
“Jagerbomb,” I said with a forceful nod. “Two of them.”
The bartender—one of five—served up two Red Bull Jagerbombs and passed them across the bar.
“You take the shot glass and drop it in—” I began, and he cut me off.
“This is my fiftieth birthday party, Sophie, not my twentieth. I have done shots before.” He lifted both glasses. “On the count of three?”
We counted together, then dropped our shot glasses in and tossed back our drinks.
“Good lord,” he sputtered, smacking his palm on the bar. “That is the worst thing I have ever done to myself.” To the bartender, he called, “Can I get a bottle of Reyka?”
“Emma and I made sure you would have the best table in the house.” I pointed to the VIP tables, in the narrow u-shaped bend at the end of the room. Emma and Michael already sat there with a bottle of something of their own.
The sight of that bottle in front of Emma made my spirits fall. If she was drinking, she wasn’t pregnant.
“I’m going over. You can circulate, if you want.” I grabbed the booze and glasses off the bar.
“Very good, I’ll be there in a moment.” Neil kissed my cheek, then took the bottle, unscrewed the top and took a giant swig off it. When he handed it back to me, he said, “What? It’s my birthday.”
“Okay, but you won’t want a hangover tomorrow, trust me.”
He tilted his head, silently demanding an explanation.
I grinned at him. “Because you won’t be any good for your birthday present.”
His open-mouthed pause indicated he knew exactly what kind of present he was getting, but if he thought we were just going to stay in the apartment and get nasty in our bedroom, he was in for the shock of his life.
When I walked away, I put a little swing in my hips. I knew he’d be watching.
I made my way to the booth and slid in beside Emma and Michael. “This is amazing!”
Emma beamed at me. “We did such a good job. I’m so pleased with us.”
Michael chuckled and kissed the top of her head.
“And I’m glad to see you decided to invite Michael after all.” I laughed, pouring some vodka into a shot glass. I held it up to clink against Michael’s.
“I have to say, ruining Mr. Elwood’s birthday was not my intent, but if my presence causes him some unhappiness…” Michael threw back his own shot, of some kind of pink liqueur in a bottle that looked like it should have held perfume.
I gasped and waved my hand at my mouth, then pushed the bottle of Reyka to the center of the table. “You all help yourselves. I think I’m going to get a glass of wine.”
“I’ll go with you! I want to get a Coke.” Emma slid out of the booth after me. We were a few feet from the table when she lowered her voice to as much of a conspiratorial tone as could be heard over the music. “I really just wanted to get out there and have a look around without Michael. He talks to everyone, it’s impossible to go two feet.”
“They do say we marry men who remind us of our fathers,” I said dryly, and Emma pulled an “ew” face.
The party was, without a doubt, the best one I’d ever been to. There was music and people were actually dancing. I’d never thrown a party where people had danced. It helped that the club’s sound system was excellent. And celebrities. I hadn’t been prepared for that. Emma bopped up to my side just as I caught a flash of ginger-hair above the other heads in the crowd.
“Is that…” I almost choked on my own tongue. “Is that Prince Harry?”
“Yeah, he’s crashing. He’s here with the son of one of dad’s lawyers.” She rolled her eyes and scanned the crowd. “Honestly, he could have at least asked. It isn’t as though he doesn’t know how to contact me.”
She spoke those words as though it were totally normal for Harry Mountbatten-Windsor to be able to get in touch with her at a moment’s notice.
Because we’d spent the entire first year of our relationship insulated from the rest of the world, I’d had no idea how many influential and famous people Neil counted among his friends. Rudy, of course, I knew from his work in fashion and costume design, but there were artists, singers, actors, socialites—basically the entire society section of any random copy of Vanity Fair one could find. I should have realized that owning a multimedia corporation would put him in contact with people from the entertainment and news industries, but it was a little disconcerting to see people I’d only seen in magazines walking around the party like normal folk.
In a social environment, Emma was surprisingly fun. I’d had plenty of enjoyable lunches and family functions with her, but she was always so uptight. I knew she found my silliness immature, and she would probably never be okay with the relationship between her dad and me, but we did get along quite well, most of the time. But tonight, she was like a person I’d never seen before. She even dragged me onto the dance floor and introduced me to some of her friends.
The first two hours pa
ssed quickly. I alternated between dancing and politely interacting with Neil’s guests, most of whom I didn’t know. There might have also been a bit of royalty stalking, now that I knew there was royalty to stalk. When Neil caught sight of me, he would wave me over or catch my hand, introduce me to this important person or that, and I would nod politely and try to appear more intelligent than I was intoxicated. I was standing at his side, playing the part of the obedient trophy girlfriend, when I noticed the rocks glass in his hand was empty.
“Want me to get you another drink?” I offered. It wasn’t that I wanted to get away from him, but I didn’t find long conversations about Formula One as exciting as the awesome party going on around us.
He handed me his glass and dropped a kiss on my forehead with a knowing smile. “Go on. Go out and find Prince Charming Party Crasher.”
I made my way to the bar and slid the empty glass to a bartender with incredibly douchey facial hair. “Two fingers of Glenlivet with a splash of water,” I said, looking away so as to not encourage dude bro eye contact.
Unfortunately, I ended up making unwanted eye contact with Valerie, who’d just accepted a glass of white wine from another bartender. When our gazes met, I was trapped. We were too close in proximity for me to play it off with a wave. Valerie saw it, too. She took the few steps toward me and said, under her breath, “Be aware that many of the people at this party know that Neil and I have history, and those people are probably watching us right now, hoping to view something unseemly.”
“Awesome. I’m a little bit of an exhibitionist, anyway.” I took the scotch from the bartender. “Can you get me another?”
Valerie lifted her glass. “To the busy-bodies.”
I clinked the glass that had been intended for Neil against hers and nodded.
“This really is a lovely party, Sophie. You and Emma did very well.” She took a sip from her glass. “Congratulations on the house, by the way.”
I shrugged. “I didn’t build it. But I’m so glad to be getting out of the city. I come from a small town, and after six years, it’s starting to grate on me.”
“I can sympathize,” Valerie said with one of her sexy, throaty laughs. “I don’t come from a small town, but New York is unlike anywhere else in the world. It can be quite overwhelming.”
Then why are you moving here? a jealous little voice snarked in my head. I translated it to, “At least you always have the office in London, if you ever want to escape.”
“Well, I couldn’t walk away from Porteras, you know,” she said, glancing down as the bartender slid the second glass to me. “It’s been something of a dream of mine to run a fashion magazine.”
“Has it?” That surprised me. Somehow I’d always painted the acquisition of Porteras in shades of dollar amounts.
“Oh, yes,” she said, brightening up for the first time in any conversation I’d ever had with her. “I wanted to go to school for fashion design, but my father rather strongly objected. It was easier to take business classes than endure his scorn.”
“That makes me feel kind of bad for you,” I blurted, before I realized how insulting that might sound. “No offense intended.”
“None taken,” she assured me. “I know that Elwood and Stern buying Porteras put you in something of a strange situation. I hope my mentioning it doesn’t bother you.”
No, but literally ninety-five percent of everything else you say does. I smiled, closed lipped, and shook my head. “It’s all in the past, Valerie. If you guys hadn’t bought the magazine, I would have never seen Neil again.”
“That’s very true.” Her expression was unreadable as she took another sip from her glass. She looked back to me as though she’d just remembered something. “Do excuse me, I’m getting a wave.”
I looked in the direction she was pointing, to a pair of German businessmen I’d met earlier in the evening. Valerie navigated the crowded floor, and I watched her go, still somewhat stunned at the revelation she’d made. I had something in common with Valerie. It was a miracle.
I caught up with Emma on the dance floor, and she motioned me toward the VIP booth. Neil was sitting with a couple I’d never seen before. They were reacting to what must have been a very funny joke we’d just missed, when Neil looked up and his smile got wider at the sight of me. “Ah, Sophie! Excellent. Ian, Gena, this is my fiancé, Sophie.”
Ian—a man about Neil’s age—held out his hand for a friendly shake. “Ian Pratchett. And this is my wife, Gena.”
Gena was a lovely, slightly plump redhead with a cloud of gorgeous, orange corkscrew curls. She reached across her husband to shake my hand. She might have been in her forties, but her skin was so flawless it was difficult to tell.
“Neil has said only incredible things about you, Sophie,” Ian went on. And he winked at me.
Okay, so maybe Ian hadn’t aged as well as Neil had. And maybe he had kind of a sharp looking nose and a narrow face. But that wink… Damn. His Scottish accent didn’t hurt, either.
“Sophie, Gena is a buyer for Barney’s.” Neil gestured to her with a shot glass, which Ian was quick to snatch and fill up.
Gena rolled her eyes. “They went to school together, can you tell?”
“And apparently they still think they can drink like they’re nineteen,” I said dryly, sliding in beside Neil.
“Oh, it’s just a bit of fun,” Ian scolded playfully. He poured out some vodka for himself, then held it up and clinked it against Neil’s. “Sláinte.”
“Where’s Michael?” Emma asked.
“Emma, dear, you look lovely as ever,” Ian said in lieu of an answer.
Neil raised his chin and gave him a warning, “Ian…”
“Daddy, I think you lost your moral high ground in the middle-aged men flirting with younger women game.” Emma rolled her eyes. “I’m going off to find Michael.”
“I see time hasn’t mellowed her any,” Ian fiddled with a straw on the table, and I recognized it as the frustrated motion of a smoker indoors.
Neil’s arm slid around my waist, and I scooted a little closer to him, asking, “Are you having a good time?”
“Fuck me, I’m having the time of my life.” He was so drunk, and so adorable. “Oh, but there’s someone I wanted you to meet, before they leave. Ian, Gena, will you excuse us a moment?”
“Of course,” Ian said, slightly raising his hand in polite dismissal. “Sophie, it was a pleasure meeting you.”
“Nice to meet you two, as well.” I slid from the booth, my feet aching in my too-tall heels. When we were a few steps from the table, I asked, “Who is it I’m going to meet?”
Neil’s arm snaked around my back and his hand closed over my hip. “No one. It was all an excuse to get you alone.”
He steered me toward the men’s room, and I stopped on my heels. “Whoa there, cowboy.”
“You wouldn’t deny a man on his birthday, would you?” he asked, close to my ear.
There wasn’t a day I could deny him. And now we were both drunk. And when was I going to get to have sex at this particular club again? When was I ever going to be in this club again?
He left me beside the men’s room door, then went inside. A guy in his twenties—I thought I’d seen him on SNL—walked out and said, “Excuse me,” then Neil opened the door and ushered me in. There was a bathroom attendant, a slim young man in all black, stationed near the bank of sinks, and Neil reached for his wallet. He tossed a stack of hundred dollar bills on the counter and gave the man a meaningful look.
Without missing a beat, the man scooped up the bills, said, “And a happy birthday to you, Mr. Elwood,” and whistled a little tune on his way out, hitting the door lock behind him.
I backed up slowly, bracing my hands on the edge of the counter. “Do you have any idea how intimidating it is, knowing that my boyfriend can basically get whatever he wants?”
He stepped up close, looming over me, and slipped a finger under my chin to lift my face. “Do you know how terrifying it is fo
r me, knowing that you’re the only thing in the world that I want?”
I was used to intensity from him, but that took my breath away. I didn’t know what to say, but I wouldn’t have had time before he kissed me, his hands splayed against my back, drawing me closer. His mouth tasted like alcohol, but so did mine, so I didn’t care. I grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled him closer. Or maybe I pulled myself closer, climbing my way up his body with an urgency so sudden, it frightened me. I was a different person with Neil, far different from the person I’d been before he’d come back into my life.
I’d never bought the idea that a person had a “better half.” Neil had called me his other half when he’d proposed, as though without me, he lacked some vital component. It was a sweet notion, but I found a much simpler explanation as to why people shape you and change you. People are darkened rooms, and each person they choose to include in their lives is a beam of light, uncovering some new, previously hidden part of them. If I’d never met Neil, I would have been the same Sophie I always was. Others would have uncovered the bits of me that Neil’s presence had illuminated, but that’s what made our love seem so magical when I considered it. We didn’t need each other to be whole. We were already whole, and we chose to love each other, to be more.
There was no other man on Earth I wanted, so I understood what he meant by “terrifying.” A moment ago, I’d been questioning the wisdom of having sex in a public restroom during a party where our absence would most likely be noticed, the next I was clawing at his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders, hanging on to his shirt so tight I was sure my nails would go through it. His open mouth slid down my jaw, to my throat, in a careless, wet path. He pushed me back and lifted me onto the counter, my hands groping for his fly between us.
The Bride (The Boss) Page 25
