Ask Me (Mess with Me 2)

He picks me up and swings me around. “I guess that means you won’t be leaving ever.” Reverently, he pushes my hair back from my face. “My beautiful Casey. The one who got away and then came back.”

I smile then because I feel beautiful, here in the rapidly fading sunlight with the man I love. Mya was right. I don’t want to be dumb about something that matters this much.

He’s already proven he’s nothing like the men I’ve known in the past. Being with him isn’t a threat to my independence or my education. Andre has been nothing but attentive to my needs and will probably cheer the loudest when I graduate with my degree. He really is the classiest man I’ve ever known.

Elegance isn’t just the clothes he wears. It’s him. His nature. His clothing is just an extension of the way he naturally lives his life.

“That’s what’s wrong with the campaign.”

I look down at him, casually sophisticated even while wearing a slightly rumpled dress shirt with his tie hanging loose around his neck. A picture of him like this would sell anything.

“What are you thinking?” He gazes at me adoringly.

“I just figured out what’s missing from your advertising campaign.” It’s such an obvious solution that it’s almost comical. “You.”

He frowns. “You think I should be in the ad?”

I place my hands on his cheeks and kiss him softly. “You are the true face of Lavin Couture. It’s not just a style, it’s your life. No one else can represent it better than the original Lavin man who started it all.”

“Have I mentioned already that I’m in love with you?” he asks.

“Maybe once. But you can show me.” I squeal when he races toward the bedroom with me bouncing in his arms.

Dinner will have to wait.

21

* * *

Monday morning, I whistle as I set my lunch bag down on the reception desk. Andre helped me move most of my clothes to the penthouse over the weekend. When I told Ariana that I wasn’t coming back, she didn’t look surprised at all. I still feel guilty about bailing on her but she assured me renting the room really wasn’t about the money.

She joked that she’s apparently a good luck romance charm. Everyone who lives with her finds their soulmate and then gets married.

I laughed but it made me think.

Would Andre ask me to marry him? Things have progressed so quickly that I’m not even sure I want him to right now. I’m still adjusting to the idea of living with him and the changes that are going to happen once he makes it known that we’re a couple. He told me on Sunday that he’s scheduled a meeting with his internal PR team to discuss the best way to handle it. It was supposed to be reassuring but it’s honestly a little weird to think we need a PR team to tell people that I’m his girlfriend.

I plop down in my chair. Time to log in to my online class dashboard and check my grades. It’s just loading on my computer screen when I hear a noise. Harold Meyer, an older man in the accounting department is standing in front of the reception desk.

“Oh, you startled me.”

“I’m surprised you came to work today.” He leans over the edge of the reception desk and tries to look at my screen.

Anya warned me about him when I first started. He made a few borderline inappropriate comments but once I lied and said I had a boyfriend, he left me alone. It still annoys me that I had to do that. He’s easily old enough to be my father. Not to mention that he kind of gives me the creeps.

I angle it away slightly and give him a tight-lipped smile. “Of course I came to work. Why wouldn’t I?”

He smirks and throws a crumpled tabloid magazine on the desk. “You’ve found your golden meal ticket apparently. Why bother coming to work anymore?” He sticks his hands in his pocket and walks away whistling.

I pick up the magazine and stare in horror at a grainy picture of me and Andre walking away from his car. My arm is through his and my face is tilted up listening to something he’s saying. It’s unmistakably intimate.

The headline reads Italy’s Fashion King sows his wild oats with a local Cinderella! As I read the article, my chest gets tighter and tighter. It mentions the block where the penthouse is located and where I work. And there are pictures of us, including a blurry shot of us in the bathroom here at Mirage. Someone was in the bathroom while we were having sex.

Oh dear god.

Suddenly the doors to the agency swing open and Jason Gautier walks in, followed by James and Mya. One look at their faces and I know they’ve seen it.

“Is Andre here yet?” Jason doesn’t even bother with a greeting. He’s always been polite but apparently he’s past pleasantries.