RAVEN
“Would you say this is baroque or rococo?” I asked Masy. The lobby was dipped in gold and draped in red velvet.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She swirled her whiskey sour, trying to free the cherry from under the ice. She and I wore the best things we had in our closets. I was in a fitted floor-length with bronze sequins in a paisley pattern. She wore a purple cocktail dress that showed off her long legs.
Naturally, we were overdressed compared to the rest of the crowd.
“Stylistic eras. The price of having artist parents. Never mind.” I poked my vodka rocks with the skinny red straw, pushing the lemon out of the way. I drained the glass down to the last unmelted drop.
“You did the right thing,” she said, leaning in so she could be heard over the recordings of the SSV doing Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings. I’d told her about Roman in the car. I’d told her about what he’d said and my email response.
“I know.”
Masy had a boyfriend. He worked at Google and she never saw him. She never complained about it and seemed perfectly happy when they were together.
“You look like you’re having second thoughts,” she said.
“When I told you the story…I skipped a part.”
Her eyes went a little wide as she filled in the blanks with my history and her own assumptions.
“You didn’t.”
“No. But I have to be honest. He’s really… I got a little turned on.”
“Okay, look.” She put her empty glass on a cocktail table as if she needed both hands free to make her point. “You’re attracted to men in power. Okay? This is your thing. So you have to just meet a man in power at a different company, and you’re only going to be able to do that if you get out of the office once in a while. Am I right?”
“I know. That’s why I switched jobs.”
“Right.”
“QI4 was just this self-perpetuating nightmare even before Taylor came back.”
“Right. So you took a first step. And now the universe is testing you. It’s asking you how much you’re really committed to having and keeping a stable job. And you’re committed, right?”
“I am.”
“And you’re not going to have sex with a guy in the office, right?”
“Right. No matter how much I want to.”
“Eyes on the prize.”
“Eyes on the prize.” I nodded, putting my empty glass next to hers like a punctuation mark. Masy hooked her arm in mine and led me to the center of the room.
“Let’s find you a nice man. How about that one? He’s hot.”
Mr. Hot checked us out as we passed and smiled a perfect, handsome smile.
“He’s wearing a hoodie to the symphony.”
Masy sighed and shook her head. “So picky. Silver Fox at one o’clock?”
Mr. Fox was well put together. He stood straight and would have been a possibility until he raised his glass to his lips.
“Wedding ring,” I said.
“You need a nice VC guy. Let’s see if I can sniff one out.” She craned her neck. I was thinking about getting another drink in before the show started when a shot of liquid cold ran down my back. I squealed in shock, spinning around.
A woman my age in a layered magenta skirt and turquoise tank made a squinched-up face, holding up her hands. One had a drink in it.
“I’m so sorry!” A lock of curly blue hair fell over one eye. “Someone pushed me.”
I twisted to see the damage, but couldn’t get around that far.
“It was a Witch’s Tit,” Blue Hair said. “Vodka and other clear stuff.”
Masy stepped behind me. “Looks all right. Just wet.”
“I’m sorry!” Blue Hair said again. “I’ll give you my number and I’ll pay for dry cleaning.”
“It’s all right,” I said, feeling the warming liquid soak downward. She must have dumped half a glass on me.
The background music faded out and a bell rang. Five minutes to take our seats. I didn’t have time to go to the bathroom to dab this dry.
“You’re such a klutz,” a man’s voice said. I spun around to see where it came from, because I recognized it.
“Roman.” His name was a flat statement. He had his hand on Blue Hair’s shoulder and a totally appropriate goddamn suit. He was distractingly gorgeous in the office. Outside it, he was the only man in the room.
And he was with a woman already. I didn’t know if I was angry or jealous.
“Raven.” His voice was as flat as mine.
I was jealous. I had no business being jealous. Primarily, I should have been enraged on her behalf, because he was with her and he’d hit on me six hours earlier. But I was as jealous as a jilted high schooler with a prom date caught kissing someone else by the lockers. I was losing my mind.
“Well,” Masy interjected. “This is fun. But we have to take our seats.” She grabbed me but I yanked away. I wanted to get control of this moment and the blood-boiling possessiveness I had no business feeling.
“I have to go clean up.” I turned to Blue Hair and her date, who I tried hard to not look at. I really tried. I practically had to count the blue hairs. “It’s fine. Please don’t worry about it. I had to dry clean it anyway.” I addressed Roman, though I kept my eyes on his tie, because if I looked him in the eye I’d fall down the abyss of gray green and drown. “Enjoy the show.”
The crowd headed to either side of the lobby and the stairs; I went against traffic to the First Street side of the building. The restroom was clearing out, but someone behind me was in a hurry to get in. As I was about to push the door open, a hand went around my waist, and I knew who it was.
I elbowed Roman, which did exactly nothing.
“What do you want?” I growled.
He led me away from the bathroom. The hall was almost completely clear of people. “Come with me.”
“Why should I?”
He cut a turn into a narrower hall and spun with his finger out as if he wanted to accuse me of something terrible.
“Because I want to apologize.”
I crossed my arms, savoring his humiliation. “For?”
“For telling you how I really felt at the wrong place and time.”
“So you’re apologizing for the circumstances?”
“I’m not going to apologize for wanting you.”
A glowing warmth spread across my body. In the symphony hall, away from the office, dressed in clothes meant to promise sex without guaranteeing it, his desire was flattering. Even welcome.
“You’re a creep.”
“My apology is honest.”
“Screw your honesty. You have no business being honest about wanting me when you’re with someone.”
He looked surprised for a split second, as if he forgot who he walked through the door with.
“You’re a pig,” I continued.
Eyebrows raised, somehow more confident than he had any business being.
“Let me straighten you out, Raven Crosby. That woman I came with is Teagan White. She goes by—”
“White_Girl22? You came with White_Girl22 and you want what out of me?”
Bianchi is White in Italian.
I knew what he was going to say before he said it.
“She’s my sister.”
There it was.
He was single and we weren’t at work. He’d apologized for the stupid, stupid thing he’d said at lunch, and here we were. Alone. He was gorgeous and vulnerable and here with his sister.
I took one step toward him and he took the sign as if it was in neon paint. Which it was. Neon paint with klieg lights. It said kiss me.
Before I could complete the thought, I was against the wall and his lips were on mine. There was a fierceness to his mouth, a hunger that was the opposite of cold professionalism. His tongue fed me and his hands owned me. I could have melted into him so easily. I could have given myself over and loved every minute of it. I wanted to. My body wanted to. Every nerve in my body vibrated for him.
I pushed him hard and we separated, gasping.
He spoke first, drawing his thumb against the corner of his mouth. “Now, about that email?”
“What about it, Mr. Bianchi?”
Through the walls and far away, the concert started with a classical rendition of Pac-Man music.
“It was clearly false.”
The fact that he was right notwithstanding, he was full of it.
“You are now doing what every single stalker, creep, sexual harasser ever does. You have exactly no business near an HR department or a law degree or a woman, for that matter. These tactics don’t work. You are not entitled to me or my time.”
He didn’t answer right away. His expression changed a hundred times in five seconds. Frustration. Anger. Bargaining. Denial. Depression. Acceptance.
“You’re right.”
“Damn right.” I knew I seemed really resolute, because my words reflected the Raven of six seconds before, not the Raven who was processing something completely new and unexpected.
Regret.
I wanted to say yes.
“Roman,” I called when he was halfway down the empty hall. He stopped and half-turned. Even with the ornate décor, the deep red carpet, and the polished gold filigree, he was the most captivating thing in my sight.
“Report me or don’t,” he called back.
“I have another idea.” I strode to him, the back of my dress now simply damp instead of damp and cold.
He put his hands in his pockets.
“I know why you did this.” I crossed my arms.
“To apologize. I needed to after what I said.”
“Yes. You’re an asshole.”
“I’ll take my lumps, Raven. I won’t take abuse.”
I took a deep breath and answered him in an exhale.
“One night.”
“One night?” He took his hands out of his pockets and crossed his arms.
“You and me. Just get it out of our system. And then we drop it and go back to work.”
He raised an eyebrow. “It’s that easy?”
“I’ve…” Another deep breath. “I was involved a man I worked with. It’s turned out fine. I can compartmentalize.”
“What if I can’t?”
“Then this isn’t a good offer for you.”
“I have a condition,” he said.
“Okay.”
He held up a finger. “One night.”
“Yes.”
“Until morning.”
“What about work?” I asked. “The job?”
“It’s Friday,” he said. “We start now.”
Now? Either he wanted to get it over with so he could start compartmentalizing or he was trying to get me in bed before I changed my mind.
“After the concert,” I said. “We can—”
“Now,” he interrupted.
Why not? Maybe I was the one who needed to get it over with. I didn’t have to drag it out the way I had with Taylor or Aiden. I was more than capable of emotional detachment, and it wasn’t like he could hold anything over me at work. I was, in effect, his equal in the office. A warm sense of finality softened the tension in my chest. It was decided, then.
“Now.” I unfolded my arms.
He unfolded his arms and we took a step toward each other.
“Are you sure?” he asked when he was a breath’s distance.
“Are you?”
“I’m sure.”
“Tick-tock, then.”
His approach was different than it had been before. He took a second to scan my face, to place the tips of his thumbs on my arms and run them over my skin.
“I’ve wanted you from the minute I saw you.”
I put my hands flat on his chest, getting used to the idea of him as a physical, solid presence. I was going to enjoy this one night.
“You made a crack about it being my first time.”
“I wanted to bend you over the table.” He kissed me with a pop. “Yank your skirt up.” Another kiss. “And stick my fingers in you to see if you were wet.”
“I was.”
“Good.”
He gave me his tongue, guided me with his lips, possessed me with his mouth.
FILE UNDER: Kissing.
SUBFOLDER: New benchmark.