K issing Sloane had been a mistake. Not because I regretted doing it,
but because once I did it, I couldn’t imagine not doing it again.
It’d been a week since the library, and I still couldn’t get her out of my mind. The warmth of her skin, the softness of her lips, the way her curves fit against my body like they were made for me. She’d smelled like fresh snow and lavender and tasted like heaven, and I couldn’t even pass by a damn bakery without remembering how sweet her mouth had been against mine.
I had a ton of important business meetings lined up over the next two weeks, but our kiss had taken my focus hostage.
The physical attraction had been there since we met, but besides lighthearted flirting, I never made a move before Valhalla. I told myself I didn’t want to complicate our relationship or fuck up the terms of my allowance, when in reality, a part of me suspected that giving in to that attraction would spell the end for me.
Then we’d started working together and I’d discovered the layers beneath her rigid exterior. The intelligence. The conviction. The fierce loyalty to those she cared about. And I no longer suspected but knew, especially after that kiss, that Sloane Kensington was it. Just like that.
The only problem was I doubted she felt the same way, and even if she did feel the same way, her defenses were so locked down she’d never admit it.
“Are you listening to me?” She dragged my thoughts away from their brooding and back to the task at hand.
“Of course.” I flashed an easy smile that was more muscle memory than emotion.
We were at her office in Midtown. It was our first time meeting in person since the library, and Sloane had jumped right into business like our kiss never happened.
I’d expected it, but it prickled nonetheless. “What did I just say?” She crossed her arms.
“I need to get the ball rolling on licenses, location and staffing. I should meet with Dante. I have a preliminary phone interview with Mode de Vie about this new venture, and as a courtesy, the chairwoman of Castillo Group’s board has sent me a shortlist of CEO candidates.” A genuine grin peeked out at her frown. “Do I get a gold medal?”
“For doing the bare minimum? No.” She tapped her tablet. “Okay, let’s go over the PR strategy for the grand opening. I realize this may be putting the cart before the horse, but if everything goes smoothly, the event is in six months. People’s calendars are probably already booked, but I’ll make it work. We want a curated group of influencers and tastemakers in attendance, and if you insist on bringing your friends, you need to get them under control. I don’t want to see Tilly Denman stealing gift bags again.” “Is it really a party if Tilly isn’t her usual kleptomaniac self?”
I yawned, already bored. I would rather bury myself in logistics than publicity. “We’ve been at this for hours. Let’s have lunch.”
“It’s eleven a.m.”
“Then let’s have brunch.”
Sloane’s frown deepened. “Be serious. I’m trying to help you.” “I am
serious. Jillian!” I called out.
Her assistant poked her head into the room. “Yes?” “Has Sloane eaten yet?”
“She had a banana and black coffee for breakfast,” Jillian said. “That was right when I came into the office, so around seven forty-five.”
“Thank you, darling.”
“Anytime.” She beamed at me, ignoring her boss’s death glare before a ringing phone drew her back to her desk.
I faced Sloane again. “A banana and coffee doesn’t last three hours. We need fuel.” I pulled out my phone, already ordering an Uber. “Come to brunch with me, and I’m all yours afterward. I’ll even go through that list of invitees one by one.”
“I have other work commitments besides you.”
“Sure, but not today. Jillian mentioned she cleared your calendar this afternoon so you can catch up on emails, and you can do that anywhere.”
Sloane’s lips seamed together, but she eventually relented. Twenty minutes later, the hostess seated us at Cafe Amelie, one of the many restaurants in the Laurents’ dining empire. I’d attended boarding school with Sebastian Laurent, and I had a guaranteed seat at any of their establishments.
We placed our orders. I added bottomless mimosas, much to Sloane’s disapproval, but hey, brunch wasn’t brunch without champagne, and Cafe Amelie was one of those blessed places that served a bottomless supply.
Outside the office, fortified by the drinks and protected by the chatter of other diners, I finally broached the elephant in the room.
We had to talk about it eventually. I would rather talk about it now than wait for it to blow up in the future.
“About what happened the other day…”
Sloane stiffened. “Don’t. This isn’t the appropriate place or time to discuss it.”
“We’re drinking mimosas in public on a beautiful Thursday. I can’t think of a better place or time to discuss it.”
Our server brought our food. Sloane waited for her to leave before she replied.
“Fine. Here’s how I see it.” She cut into her pancakes with controlled precision. “Emotions were running high, and a client kissed me in the heat of the moment. I didn’t shut it down immediately, and that’s on me. But now, it’s over and done with. Time to move on with our lives and focus on what’s important—work. Namely, my capacity as your publicist…” She emphasized the last word. “And your inheritance clause.”
Despite her cool response, a faint wash of color edged her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.
“Hmm. I’ve never heard you so verbose.” I tore off a piece of bread and tossed it in my mouth. I chewed and swallowed before musing, “Trying to bury your feelings with more words, Luna?”
“I promise, there are better places to live than in delusion.” “Better? Maybe. More fun? I doubt it.” I leaned forward, my face sobering. “I’m sorry if I crossed the line the other night. If I truly made you uncomfortable, I’ll back off, but tell me the truth. Did you enjoy the kiss?”
Sloane’s color heightened. “That’s irrelevant.”
“I beg to differ. When it comes to kissing, enjoyment is very much relevant.”
“For any other pair, maybe. For us, it’s irrelevant because I refuse to compromise my professional integrity by engaging in inappropriate activities with a client.” She stabbed a piece of pancake with her fork for emphasis.
“It’s the twenty-first century, and you’re your own boss. It’s not like you’ll get fired.”
“My reputation is at stake.”
“Your reputation is sterling. No one would dare say a word against you.” It was easy to fall back on the work excuse, and in a way, I got it. Sloane had more to lose than I did if we got involved, but in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t a deal-breaker. Other couples in similar situations had figured it out. “Look at Eldorra’s royal couple. They had a centuries-old law working against them, and now they’re happily married.”
“I’m not a princess, you’re not my bodyguard, and they were in love,” Sloane said flatly. “It’s different.”
“Every love starts with a kiss.” I was pushing her close to the limit, but I’d always regret it if I didn’t try. Comfort was easy, but I was starting to realize that easy wasn’t always the right answer. If it were, I would’ve taken the CEO position at the Castillo Group instead of formulating an impossible plan to open a New York nightclub in six months.
Screw it. If I was going to do this, I might as well go all in. “Go on a date with me,” I said.
Her eyes flared with an unidentifiable emotion before they shuttered. “No.”
“Why not? And forget about your job for a second. Give me a real reason, Sloane.”
Her fingers curled tight around her fork. Odds were, she was picturing stabbing me with it, but I didn’t mind a little hypothetical violence. It kept things interesting.
The noise from the dining room retreated as I waited for an answer.
Beneath my casual exterior, my heart fought to break out of my chest.
I’d never felt this nervous over someone, ever.
I knew I was speeding into this with no clear view of the consequences. I knew I should focus on the club instead of my personal life, and I knew I might’ve fucked up the tentative understanding Sloane and I had reached in Colombia.
I knew all this, yet I didn’t care. I wanted her too much, and I wanted
this, whatever this was, to work. Even if it didn’t, I had to at least try.
She opened her mouth.
I tensed, every muscle poised for— “Sloane? Is that you?”
An unfamiliar and deeply unwelcome voice fractured the moment. Our heads swiveled in unison toward the interloper.
Buzz cut, tanned skin, bulging muscles. He looked like the type of guy who spent half his life chugging protein shakes and working out. He wore a black T-shirt and jeans and stared at Sloane in a way that made me want to punch him in his generically handsome face.
“Excuse us, but we’re in the middle of a conversation,” I said. I usually wasn’t so rude to strangers, but there was something about this guy that I instantly disliked.
“You haven’t answered any of my calls or texts,” he said, ignoring me. “What’s going on?”
Sloane stared at him, her face frozen. She seemed too stunned to answer.
“I’m sorry, but who are you?” I didn’t bother hiding my irritation this time.
Protein Shake glanced at me, his eyes narrowing as he took me in. “I’m her boyfriend, asshole. Who the hell are you?”
