Because I Can (Necklace Trilogy 2)

He’ll donate the services for me? I blinked, shocked at such a generous offer. “To work here has been a dream,” I say. “To be valued here, an honor, but he’ll pay you,” I say quickly. “Take the money, Mr. Compton. Please.”

“In other words, you’re not coming back.”

“Nothing has changed. My plans are the same as when I left.”

“And yet, Ms. Wright, it has. You have. I can see that in your eyes. You need to look in the mirror and see it, too. Then, make your decision and own it.” He leans back. “I’ll donate the services because I believe you’ll make this auction a win for everyone involved. Now go figure out how you win, Ms. Wright.”

I stand and leave his office, and when I return to mine, it doesn’t feel like mine anymore.

***

Dash has meetings run over into the late afternoon which ends up working out just fine, considering I’m far from done here at Riptide. It’s five when I join Dash in the back of the hired SUV.

“We have just enough time to grab a bite at the hotel restaurant before cocktails with the publisher. I want you to come with me.”

“Which publisher? The one I worked for or your new publisher?”

“The one you worked for. Since they published all the books currently released, they’re overseeing the signing.”

“Drinks with both of our ex-employers. This should be loads of fun,” I say sarcastically. “How can I not want to attend?”

He laughs and gives me one of his devastating smiles. “Better with you, than without you, baby. Of that, I’m certain.”

I smile with him now and decide that coming to New York was a good thing for me. I’m facing the past with the man who may well be my future. And if I decide to leave that past behind, I will walk away. I will not run.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

Turns out cocktails are not just cocktails.

We arrive at the restaurant to discover the publisher has rented out the entire place. “I’m going to kill Bella,” Dash says, reading a text from her. “She thought she told me this was a big deal tonight.” He slides his phone into his pocket. “Sorry, baby, but now we become the show. And I mean we. You up for this?”

“Riptide events are one big press event,” I say. “I’m well-practiced.”

“You’re going as my woman, Allie. There will be photos. There will be talk.”

“Well, in hindsight I wish I would have changed clothes, but yeah, I get it. All photos that get posted will probably be ones of me with my mouth open, or falling over my own feet, and the speculation about me will have tongues wagging.”

“You sure you want to do this?”

“Do you want me to do this?” I counter.

“I do,” he says. “And I promise to catch you if you fall over your own feet.”

“Unless I take you down with me.”

“That could be fun,” he teases and opens the door.

A few minutes later, we’re in a three-level bar with fancy drop lights and dark décor. Dash and I are greeted by his former editor and my ex-boss. Ellen is tall, thin, attractive, and in her mid-fifties. She greets Dash with eagerness and gives me a wide-eyed inspection. “Allie.”

“Hi, Ellen, good to see you.”

“How did you get here tonight? Are you back in publishing?”

Dash slides his arm around me. “With me.”

Ellen blanches. “Oh—I—Well. That’s an interesting pairing. You both do love books.”

“Yes, we do,” Dash says. “And we both need a drink.”

“Yes, get a drink and enjoy yourself,” she says. “I was made aware of a few things we need to address before the singing. Can we meet in the morning?”

“Just call me,” Dash says. “I have a book I’m trying to crunch.” Dash directs me away from her, and says, “Drinks. Now.”

I laugh and say, “I better not or I’ll be your drunk party date and that won’t look good.”

“Hmm. It’s not called drunk. At these kinds of parties, it’s called sane.”

We manage to get our drinks and claim a standing bar table before Dash is suffocated in attention, but attention he does get. One after another, people come up to him and he signs more than a few books. There’s a slight break in the crowd of people forming around our standing bar table when my gaze locks with another’s across the room and my lips part. Brandon. Brandon is here.

Bodies move and my view of his location is suddenly blocked. I shift and lean left and right, but when the place he was standing is cleared, he’s not there. Did I imagine him? Yes. Of course, I imagined him. Why would he be here? He has nothing to do with Dash and Dash’s books. No more booze for me, I think, setting aside the half glass of champagne I have left. This is me looking in the mirror, as Mark said, and feeling shame. I’m embarrassed about being used and made a fool. Being back here, among the people I worked with when it all came raining down, must be stirring up the ghosts of my past.