Chapter 12

Ian

I have to admit, I’m a pro at schmoozing. I’ve done it for so long I could do it my sleep. This annual event is one of the very few I endorse and is the only one I help to put together each year. The problem with all of this is, tonight, the one night I want to be invisible to everyone around me, with the exception of one exquisite reporter, just happens to be the same night everyone I’ve ever known in high society wants a piece of me. I stepped off of the stage from administering my speech and platitudes well over an hour ago, and I’ve barely made it around the room.

I search everywhere for Lorali with my eyes as I’m repeatedly bombarded by guests. I’m grateful for the pledges of donations prior to the event, and Sloane stopped to let me know that more money is still rolling in; even though it seems Safe House is the last thing the invitees want to talk about. They’ve all tended to merely trade pleasantries, and then their conversations wonder off into what vacation they’ve planned, or what property they’ve recently purchased. It’s all very ‘Look at how much money I have’, and I’m so over it.

I smile and nod as if I’m interested, but the whole evening has left me completely chagrined.

I don’t know why I continue to try to find her through the rest of the evening; I know she’s left. The electricity that surrounds her can no longer be felt as I make my way around the room.

This beautiful creature, which I never thought I’d lay eyes on again, shows up tonight of all places, a far cry from that laundry mat. The way that short dress clung to her hips and draped at her breasts will haunt my dreams and shower fantasies for many days to come.

As happy as this makes me, I’m still left completely frustrated. I’ve no other recourse but to reach out to her. No way can I leave her alone. No way can I exist much longer without fucking her. My hand and the memory of her face are no longer cutting it.

I have the beginnings of a plan coming together, and the idea of having Lorali right where I want her brings a smile to my face. This, by looking across the room at the woman, who has landed her sights on me, has apparently been misconstrued. I look away, my eyes trying to find someone to start a conversation with in an attempt to avoid the train wreck that’s about to happen. I’ve been swarmed by people all night and the minute I actually need someone to speak to I find that I’m left alone.

Might as well get it over with.

I cut my eyes back to the woman. She’s doing her best to walk towards me seductively, but it’s obvious that her alcohol intake tonight is preventing her from looking as stealthy as she’s intending.

I keep an impassive look on my face as she approaches; a final attempt to try to make her realize she hasn’t got a shot. It doesn’t work. She slides up to me, her body almost touching mine, her hand grazing up my chest, until her arm is resting on my shoulder. She smells like she could keep a winery in business, the alcohol seems to be seeping from her pores.

“Hey, Ian,” she pesters, acting as if I should know her. I can tell she comes from money. Her mint green dress is designer and her jewelry compliments it perfectly. I can tell her painted mask is top of the line even with the smudges left behind from her long night of drinking. “You are so hot,” she slurs before bringing her champagne glass to her lips. Her sluggish effort rewards her with a splash on her face and the excess running down her chin.

“You look like you’ve had fun tonight,” I tell her, doing my best not to lose my patience. The last thing I need is to be photographed with some rich man’s daughter drunkenly hanging on me.

“It’d be more fun,” hiccup “if you took me home.” Hiccup. She’s slouching more; her body is demanding more effort from me to stand up.

“Are you here with anyone?” I look around to try to judge if I can find someone who she belongs to, so I can hand her off.

She moves her head from side to side. “Nope, just me.”

Great! Doing my best not to be an asshole, since she’s all but collapsed on me, I walk her towards the front door.

“I’m going to ride you so hard!” Apparently she thinks we’re heading out to my place. “You won’t we-gwet it. I’ll be the beth you eva had!” Her slurring is getting worse.

“Oh, I’ve no doubt I won’t regret anything tomorrow.” I tell her then chuckle, “but you will regret drinking so much!”

I lean her against a wall and take my phone out to text my driver. I have to make sure she gets home safely and I’m not in a position to trust a cab driver at this point. My driver is waiting by the curb when we make it outside.

“Do you know your address?” I prompt her as I slide her in the back of the limo.

“Oh! That’s a gweat idea! I just live a few mileth from here!” She rattles off her address, and I make sure the driver has it.

She’s already slumping down in the seat before I shut the door. God, I pray she doesn’t puke in my car!

Taking a break from the chatter of the party, I stay outside and make a few phone calls. I have a plan and it takes a mere two calls before I have the information I need and the ability to set that plan into motion. I anticipate that Lorali will be receptive, if her behavior in the corridor was any indication of what she thought about me. I lick my lips, the faint taste of her lipstick on my tongue and recall the way her soft mouth caressed mine. Absolutely no way I can go much longer without the opportunity to do that again.