Diamonds. Those were real diamonds. Real actual not even a little bit fake glass or cubic zirconia diamonds. I picked up the necklace with shaking hands, and what I’d thought was a tag fluttered loose onto the floor, where I saw that it was a note bearing Grant’s distinctive slanting handwriting.
The message was short: Dear Lacey,
Thanks for playing along.
Remember, though, I do love a competitive spirit.
Grant
Well, what the hell was that supposed to mean?
? ? ?
Entering the gala was like stepping into an explosion of wealth, or maybe a tornado.
Cameras flashed, glamorous people swept by in a whirlwind of perfect hair and cheekbones that could cut granite—oh my God, was that Pierce Brosnan?! Shrieks of recognition and delight echoed across the polished wooden floor.
Everywhere I looked there were sparkling lights, silver and gold bunting, striking paintings and sculptures that scholars would have given their eyeteeth to study, trays of chocolate amuse-bouches arranged into towering pyramids that would have made the pharaohs jealous.
“I am so entirely out of my lea—mmmph!” That last word of the sentence was brought to you by Grant, sweeping me up in his arms like Prince Fucking Charming and kissing me, deep.
For a second, I surrendered to the warmth of the kiss, the roughness of his stubble igniting my desire, making me think of other rough things we could do together— And then I remembered it wasn’t real.
I shoved him away.“Give a girl some goddamn warning, you—”
“Play along,” he murmured, and oh, the things his voice did to my body, especially when he leaned close, his arm brushing mine, his lips almost on my ear… “Jennings and his wife have arrived.”
My head snapped up and I scanned the room, finally seeing them waving to us by the coat check. Jennings wore a much better suit than he had the last time we’d seen him; it brought out the blue in his eyes and deemphasized his paunch. There was a surprisingly age-appropriate woman at his side, her posture dignified and her teak skin just beginning to show wrinkles, a touch of silver adorning her hair as if it were the proper accessory and not a sign of advancing age. Her smile was wide and warm.
I waved back, and then turned halfway, giving Grant a smile that I hoped looked less pained than it felt.
“Whatever you say, dear,” and then I stood on tiptoe and planted a kiss on his cheek with a loud, wet smack.
There was a cheer of approval from Jennings, his wife, and several other couples around them; they beckoned us over and soon we were swamped with businessmen and businesswoman who I’d mostly only ever seen in the business pages of the paper, kicking ass and taking names: forming mergers, performing hostile takeovers, founding entire new enterprises.
And the few who I had met in person before? Yeah, that had consisted of me handing them a coffee—for which they did not thank me, since I was the admin assistant and therefore invisible—before they rushed over to their meetings with people who were actually important.
They sure were being friendly now, though.
“Grant, you sorry bastard, where’s this young lady’s drink?” cried Lily Chang, who just last week had been dubbed‘The Tiger of Wall Street’ by Forbes.“Do you want her to die of thirst?”
“You took the words right out of my mouth,” Grant said. He squeezed my waist affectionately.“Punch or champagne, my dear?”
“Champagne, please,” I said.
And then I changed my mind. If Grant wanted me to play this game, I was going to play it to the goddamn hilt.
“No, make it punch—I don’t want to lose my head as quickly as I did the night we met. Remember?”
There was a round of“oooooohs” throughout the circle, followed by people chuckling and nudging each other their elbows.
“How could I forget?” Grant said with a raised eyebrow. He lowered his voice, though not low enough to keep our audience from hearing:“It’s one of my fondest memories.”
“Well, then you go on and get it, sugarplum,” I said, and smiled sweetly.
And then I slapped his butt.
Grant had just started raising an eyebrow at the‘sugarplum,’ and when I slapped his ass he almost jumped a foot before he recovered. The whole group whooped in delight.
“Ah, I remember that honeymoon phase,” Jennings roared at an even higher volume than usual, maybe trying to compensate for the background chatter of the party. I saw several champagne glasses vibrate off a table and smash to the floor.“Treasure it, my boy, and you as well, Lacey. Treasure it!”
“Oh, I will,” I breathed, making goo-goo eyes at Grant.“I’ll always treasure him.”
“And you as well,” Grant murmured, stroking a strand of hair over my ear.
“So how did you two lovebirds meet?” Jennings’s wife Patricia asked.“You work together, isn’t that right?”
“We do indeed,” Grant said.
He continued to absentmindedly stroke my hair as he talked, his arm slung casually around my shoulders.
“I was—if you’ll pardon my French—being a real shit-heel, and Lacey called me out on it. Well, I’ve always liked a woman with a temper.”
“And I’ve always liked a man who isn’t afraid to admit his mistakes and learn from them,” I added, leaning into Grant.
His arm tightened around me. How long had it been since I had really been held like this—tenderly, sweetly, yet without a second thought, as if it were perfectly natural?
Too damn long, if I was reacting to Grant like this when I’d already told him we could never have sex.
“We got to talking,” Grant continued.“And we had so much in common. Our philosophies about work, our tastes in art—we even liked the same silly show from the sixties!”
“It was love at first argument,” I cut in cheekily, and Grant gave me an adoring look that would have been the envy of any golden retriever, before kissing me on the cheek again.
“She’s a firecracker for sure!” Jennings boomed.“Oh, she’ll keep you on your toes!”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Grant murmured.
If he kept looking at me like that with those deep blue puppy dog eyes, I was going to fall right into them and drown forever.