Jackson pressed the back of his hand to my forehead. “You must be dying of syphilis or something.”
I smacked his hand away. “Shut the fuck up, asshole.”
“So you don’t care if I go for her?”
If he’d asked me that a week ago, I would have turned over my desk with a roar and knocked him out cold. But I didn’t feel anything—not a hint of jealousy or an ounce of rage. I didn’t feel possessive toward her. Strangely, I didn’t feel any type of attention or affection toward her. It was like she’d never meant anything to me—at all. “No.”
“Seriously?” Both of his eyebrows rose to the sky.
I hated it when he spoke like a goddamn teenager. “Seriously.”
“Because I’ll do it. I’ll wipe away all trace of you.”
“Go ahead.”
His eyebrows deflated, and he finally believed me. “Damn, who is this woman?”
Charles wasn’t able to dig up much on her, just more mystery, so I didn’t have a clue. “Not sure yet. But I’ll find out.”
4
Rome
Christopher and I entered the lobby of the hotel. He wore a black suit with a matching tie, looking like he belonged with the crowd. He actually did his hair, wore a nice watch, and acknowledged the people around us with a smile. When I introduced him, he was polite—which was rare.
We entered the ballroom where the charity event was being held. The chandelier hung from the ceiling, sparkling under the dim lighting of the room. Round tables were spaced across the floor, ivory tablecloths with candles and centerpieces on the surface.
Christopher whistled under his breath. “Fancy, huh?”
“It looks really nice.”
His head turned toward the bar in the corner. “Now that looks really nice. Full bar, right?”
I tried not to roll my eyes. “Behave yourself, alright?”
“If you wanted someone who would behave themselves, you shouldn’t have asked me to come with you.”
“If you don’t want to be here, just go.” I stepped off to the side and looked him in the eye, seeing the brown color that reflected the lights from the chandelier.
“And make you go stag?” he asked with a laugh. “I may be an ass, but I would never do that to you.”
“I don’t mind going alone.” Almost everything I did, I did alone. Not having a man on my arm didn’t give me anxiety. I didn’t care that I was single and living in a small apartment in solitude. When people asked if I planned on settling down soon, like that’s where I should be in life, I usually smiled then excused myself from the ridiculous, mundane conversation and found something better to do.
“Then why did you invite me?” He put his hands in his pockets as he eyed me, his chin covered in stubble and his eyes almost threatening.
“Because…” I was about to answer him when I thought better of it. I struggled with emotional intimacy, and I avoided it at all costs. “I guess I just like spending time with you.”
Christopher knew me too well not to notice the apprehension in my eyes. Like a book, he could read every word and every sentence. “That’s not the reason, and we both know it. So just be a man and tell me.”
“Well, I’m not a man.”
“You look like one.”
I narrowed my eyes on his face. “You want me to answer you or not?”
He breathed a sigh before he relaxed his shoulders. “Yes. Please.”
“I’m getting an award tonight.” I didn’t wear my heart on my sleeve, so I never confessed my deepest desires. But tonight, it was important for him to be there with me. I wanted him to share this moment with me because, frankly, I wouldn’t be here without him.
His eyes immediately softened, one of the rare times I’d seen it happen. “I had no idea. What’s it for?”
“Philanthropist Award. It’s for the work I did at the homeless shelter this year.”
He stared at me with a blank expression, but his eyes held the affection that he tried to hide. He cleared his throat then gave me an awkward pat on the back. “That’s awesome. I’m so proud of you.”
I smiled when I heard the sincerity in his voice. “Thanks.”
“Now I’m glad you invited me. Wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
“That’s the reaction I’d been hoping for.”
“Alright. I’ll be nice to you for the whole evening.”
“Wow.” I didn’t hide my sarcasm. “Do you think you can go that long?”
“I don’t know,” he answered. “I’ve never tried.”
A waiter passed with a tray of champagne, and Christopher grabbed two glasses before he handed one to me. “Let’s make a toast.”
“Yeah?” The corner of my lip rose in a smile.
“Yeah.” He clinked his glass against mine. “To the most hardworking and compassionate woman I know.” He brought the glass to his lips and downed it.
I smiled before I drank, finishing with a few swallows.
We set our glasses on an empty tray that passed.