Chapter 18

Alice

I wasn’t sure just how to feel. Seated in the back of the limo that was taking Connor and me to the gala, I let my eyes linger on the passing city lights as I tried to figure out just what the hell had happened.

It was all like a wild blur. One moment I was in the bedroom getting dressed, the next Connor was on top of me, buried to the hilt and pumping away at me like no man had since, well, he last had. And I didn’t even protest—not even a little bit. Sure, I might’ve offered up a token word here or there when it was clear just what he had in mind, but the body and spirit were willing from the moment he locked eyes onto my half-dressed body.

And now here he was in the limo, a glass of whiskey in his hand and a pleased little smile on his face. And goddamn, did he look good in that tux. I could imagine him on the cover of the magazine just how he looked now, the photo taken from the side, the evening city backlit behind his gorgeous face.

I worried that I was losing control, that I was letting my feelings get the better of me. After all, how did I know that Connor wanted anything other than a temporary partner in crime to pull off his little lie? And as far as the sex, well, it’s not as though Connor wasn’t known for getting what he wanted from women whenever he wanted it. For all I knew he just had an itch to scratch, and I happened to be the girl there to do it.

Moreover, did I even want anything more than that? I was so certain that I was going to be able to keep a level head through all of this, that I’d be the one playing him, the one who’d be using my history with Connor to write the article that would take my career to the next level. But was I the one who’d end up getting played? Again?

“You ready for the evening?” he asked.

Part of me wanted to tell the driver to pull off somewhere so I could hike up my dress and give Connor a little ride right there in the back of the limo. It was as though Connor had set something free inside of me, a wild, sexual part of my being that I’d been keeping dormant for far too long.

“About as ready as I’m going to be, I think.”

He took a slow sip of his whiskey.

“It’ll be fun,” he said. “You’ll get some material for the article. You know, have some details about my milieu.”

Truth be told, I was a little nervous. One of the nice things about my life as a freelance journalist is that I could be as social or not social as I wanted to be, and on my own time. So, needless to say, going to any sort of event like this wasn’t something I’d done in a long while. I took a small sip of my drink, trying to walk the fine line between being tipsy enough to be less nervous and so drunk that I was risking being a sloppy mess. I fiddled with the ring on my finger, keeping in mind that I had a role to play.

“Ah, we’re here,” said Connor, tossing back the last of his drink.

The exterior of the Prince George Ballroom was a façade of gray stones and tall windows that looked into a lobby bathed in warm, orange light. Limo after limo pulled up in front of the building, men and women in elegant evening wear stepping out and making their way up the small flight of stairs leading to the entrance. The driver pulled the limo to the back of the line of cars and soon it was our turn to get out.

Connor stepped out of the limo and turned to take my hand. With a little help, I was on my heels and making my way toward the front entrance. People swirled around us, and I understood right away that I was surrounded by some of the city’s most elite men and women.

After a quick trip through the lobby, Connor and I approached the large set of double doors leading to the ballroom.

“Anything I should know?” I asked, feeling that same nervous tugging at my stomach.

“Nope,” he said. “Just be your usual charming self.”

I smirked.

“We’ll see,” I said as Connor led me through the arched double doors and into the ballroom.

The space was gorgeous, to say the least. It was huge, with ornate ceilings that reached up dozens of feet high and were covered in intricate paintings. The floor was a beautiful parquet, and Romanesque columns sprouted here and there. A twelve-piece jazz band was situated on a stage up front, filling the space with lively standards. There had to have been hundreds of people there, and my first instinct was to stay close to Connor in hopes that he could literally and figuratively navigate me through this place.

“Evening, Dr. Rex,” said a passing woman, a young blonde in a skintight champagne-colored dress, her green eyes moving up and down Connor’s body.

“Evening,” said Connor in a professional tone.

The young woman fired off a quick look of competition in my direction as she passed us. I couldn’t help but feel a little tinge of jealousy.

“I think we need some drinks,” said Connor.

“Good call,” I said.

Connor flagged down a passing waiter and took two tall champagne flutes off his tray. He handed one to me and I, still feeling overwhelmed, quickly brought the glass to my lips and took a long sip.

“Easy there, sport,” he said, noting my eagerness to get some booze into me. “At least wait until the latter part of the evening before you start dancing on the tables.”

“Hey,” I said, “if I’m remembering high school correctly, you were the big drinker.”

“Just because I did a few keg stands in my glory days doesn’t mean that I still put it away like that,” he said with a smile.

I wanted to tease him a little more, but I caught myself as I realized I was still poking at him, trying to figure out if he was the same man that he was so many years ago.

“Ah, there’s the man of the hour.”

Connor and I both turned in the direction of the voice and were face-to-face with Richter Delahunt. He was dressed in a blah tuxedo, and a dowdy blonde middle-aged woman in an expensive-looking long black dress was on his arm.

“Good to see you, Richter,” said Connor, extending his hand for a shake.

Once they’d greeted one another, Connor turned toward the woman, who appeared to be Richter’s wife, and leaned in for a hug and a kiss.

“Patricia,” he said. “Always a pleasure.”

The woman turned her limpid blue eyes toward me.

“And this must be the lovely girl who was lucky enough to tame you.”

“So we hear,” said Richter.

I raised my eyebrow at this. Did he know more about Connor and me than he was letting on?

“Alice Holiday,” I said. “Nice to meet you.”

“Alice Holiday,” she said, looking up dreamily as she said the name. “Sounds like a reporter in some old-timey TV show.”

“Funny you should say that,” I said. “I’m a journalist, and doing a little article on Connor is how we met. Again, that is.”

Patricia widened her eyes in interest, but Richter didn’t seem to be in the mood to indulge her.

“Yes, yes,” he said. “It’s such a lovely little story.”

Connor chuckled.

“That’s one of the many things I love about you, Richer,” he said. “You’ve got such a soft spot for old-fashioned romance.”

“Well,” said Richter. “Hopefully the transfer doesn’t derail your honeymoon plans too much. It’s quite a bit for a new couple to deal with, I’m sure.”

Wait—the what?

A cross expression formed on Connor’s features. It was clear that Richter had said something that Connor didn’t want him to share.

“Just a little trip across the country,” said Connor. “Nothing a pair of newlyweds can’t handle.”

I wanted to tear into him right then and there. But, instead, I bit my tongue.

“Well,” said Connor. “We ought to make the rounds. A pleasure seeing you both.”

“I’m sure we’ll speak again before the night’s over,” said Richter, his eyes on me as if carefully watching my expression.

We said our goodbyes and soon they were gone.

“I think we need to have a private conversation,” said Connor.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice cold and stern. “I think you’re right.”

“Come this way.”

Connor led me through the crowd, and I watched as drop-dead gorgeous woman after drop-dead gorgeous woman eye-fucked him so brazenly that, after the third time it happened, part of me wanted to raise my hand, point to the fat ring on my finger, and shoot these floozies the glare of a lifetime.

As soon as we stepped out onto the balcony, however, my attention turned back to the matter at hand. The balcony looked over the traffic down below, the skyscrapers of Midtown stretching out into the night sky above us. Handfuls of partygoers were grouped up here and there, and the sound of light conversation mingled with the din of the city below.

“Hell of a party, huh?” asked Connor.

“Transfer?” I asked. “What the hell is he talking about?”

Connor pushed down on the air in front of him, making a “quiet down” gesture. I wanted to chew him out at the top of my lungs, but he was right that I needed to be discrete—who knows who could’ve been within earshot?

“You said you were going to tell me everything,” I said. “You told me that there weren’t going to be any more surprises.”

“I only didn’t tell you because I only just found out,” he said. “I was planning on telling you all of this before we left for the party, but we got a little…distracted.”

I guess he had me there.

“Fine,” I said, putting my hands on my hips. “You get a pass just this once. But I want all of the details, and I want them now.”

Connor looked away for a moment, tucking one hand into a pocket as he appeared to be trying to decide just where to begin.

“Well,” he said. “The good news is that I got the promotion.”

“Oh,” I said. “Well, congratulations.”

“Thanks,” he said, flashing me a smile. “But the board let me know that there was a…complication.”

He quickly raised his palms.

“But don’t worry—this only affects me. Well, me and Hunter. Our hospital has an arrangement with a sister hospital in Los Angeles. And after the board did some number-crunching, they figured that it’d be more cost-effective to send me to fill a vacancy over there rather than here. So, I’m going to be moving to LA.”

A strange feeling came over me that I couldn’t quite suss out. My heart felt as though it dropped down into my stomach. I was disappointed and sad and angry all at the same time.

“I’ll be busy getting all of the arrangements made, but we should have more than enough time to finish the article. A month’s good, right? And I’d be more than happy to fly you out to LA if we still had any odds and ends to take care of.”

“Sounds great,” I said.

Connor looked me over with an inquisitive expression.

“You look a little put out. You OK?”

“Yeah,” I said, trying to mask the odd whirl of feelings inside of me as best I could. “Just sudden, is all. Weird that you’re back in my life and just like that you’re going to be gone again.”

“We’ll keep in touch,” he said. “Hunter’s nuts about you—he’ll definitely want you to drop in sometime. And, hey, this’ll make our little fake engagement easier to break off.”

“How’s that?”

“Something like this makes it easier to come up with an excuse, especially since the board won’t be around to keep tabs on me. If they ask in a few months, I’ll just tell them that things didn’t work out.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” I said, my voice sounding far away.

“Then I guess we can get this all nice and wrapped up,” I said, my tone coming out a little harder than I wanted.

“That’s right,” said Connor, either oblivious to my frustration or choosing to ignore it. “So, let’s enjoy these last few weeks, and before you know it things’ll be right back to normal for both of us.”

He was right. But was “back to normal” really what I wanted? I honestly had no idea.

“We should head back in,” he said. “Gotta make the rounds, show off my gorgeous fiancée.”

“I’ll meet you in there,” I said. “I need a little fresh air before I deal with the crowds.”

Connor gave me another skeptical look, then nodded and started off toward the doors. And as he left, I could’ve sworn I saw the sudden movement of a figure by one of the nearby windows. However, I chalked it up to my imagination.

One alone, I turned toward the city, my glass of wine close to my chest. A longing tugged at my heart, and a tear formed in the corner of my eye. I quickly wiped it away and shook my head. I’d made a mistake, I realized. I’d gotten too close, and now I was paying the price.

I vowed not to make that mistake again.