“I’ll pick you up,” I say.

“No,” Ruth says. “You’re right there already, and I’ve got a surprise for you anyway.”

“A surprise? I ask.

“Mhmm.”

Her voice sounds a bit rough and hoarse.

“You’re not getting sick, are you?” I ask.

“No, no,” she says. “The music was really loud last night, and I had to shout to be heard.”

“And you probably drank something,” I say, laughing.

“Or more than something,” she says. “Make sure I take it easy tonight.”

“Alright then,” I say. “And you’re sure you don’t want me to pick you up?”

“No,” Ruth says. “I need to get some stuff done in Manhattan anyway, I’ll meet you there.”

“It’s a date,” I say.

Work drags on. It’s not that I’m particularly excited about the Copelands’ damned party, but it feels like I haven’t seen Ruth in forever, and I want to see her again.

Aiden is back, talking about his damn farm.

“From the way you describe it,” I say, “it sounds like you went there just to work on the farm, and not to secure us Lionbridge.”

“I secured them though,” he says, grinning cockily.

“You going to the party tonight?” I ask.

“I’m surprised they even invited me,” he says. “But yeah.”

“Why wouldn’t they invite you?”

“Ah, I mean, you know.” Aiden shrugs. “I’m pretty low on the totem pole here.”

He spins his pen in his fingers. It’s a habit he has when he’s nervous.

“Spend more time with your head in the game, and less time dicking around on the farm,” I say, half-joking. “And we’ll carve you in higher on the pole.”

Aiden is Dmitri’s mentee, so I don’t have any real say in what he does, or in what kind of chances he’s given. Considering that Aiden has to do exactly what Dmitri wants, I shouldn’t really trust him at all.

I wouldn’t put it past Dmitri to use Aiden as a tool against me, but I trust Aiden for whatever reason. He’s a good guy who got stuck with an asshole, I shouldn’t hold that against him personally.

“I’ll have to introduce you to my girlfriend tonight,” I say. “Dmitri’s not coming, right?”

Aiden smiles nervously at me, and he spins his pen around two or three times. “I’m not sure. I don’t think he said anything about it.”

He gets up and finally pockets the damn pen. “Well, I gotta review all the Lionbridge stuff. There’s a mountain of paperwork.”

“I’ll let you to it,” I say, keeping a poker face.

When he’s gone, I realize that something is up. Mentioning Dmitri’s attendance at the party got him nervous, and I’m pretty sure he was lying to me when he said he didn’t know if Dmitri was coming tonight.

Dmitri probably told him to lie to me, which means that he very likely is coming tonight. Just fucking great. I can’t wait until this damn contest is over. I have no patience left for these bullshit games.

I finally get my work done after forcing myself to concentrate on it and push everything else out of my mind. I go home to change into my tux. Of course the Copelands insist on overly formal dress—everything they do is made to emphasize what ‘big shots’ they are.

I realize I probably should have asked Ruth if she needed help getting a dress. I don’t really care if she doesn’t wear some designer bullshit, but I’m worried she felt obligated to spend a lot on her dress to fit in.

I should have thought of that and taken care of it. I’ll offer to reimburse her later if she ended up breaking the bank.

I laugh then, realizing that Ruth is very unlikely to fret too much about a stupid dress.

Even though the run-in with Aiden made me a little bit nervous, I decide I’m just going to enjoy myself, and if Ruth and I lose the damn contest—thus losing me the bet—I’ll just let Dmitri do whatever he can to get back at me. Maybe he’ll cut me some kind of deal where I just help him find some clients, or I just agree to another compromise that hurts me and helps him. Ruth is all I really want, and losing money and business doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. As long as I have her.

My only regret is not coming clean about the bet earlier. As soon as I realized I liked her, I should have just told her. I still remember that turning point—I should have told her then. I probably could have owned up to my mistake and held onto her there. If I told her now though? No, not an option. It would be all over.

The party is only about six blocks away, so I decide to just walk. The Copelands’ place is on the park too, another penthouse of another high-rise. When I reach the building I see a woman standing there, and I feel guilty because she grabs my attention. My eyes lock onto her ass and run up her body, all the way up to her raven-black hair.

I force myself to look away.

“Eric.” It’s Ruth’s voice.

I look up, and realize that the woman is Ruth. She’s wearing a red dress, low-cut and tight.

She’s not wearing her glasses, and her hair is shining and radiant, and dyed black. I never notice a woman’s fucking hair, but everything about Ruth is calling out to me now.

“Holy shit,” I say, locking eyes with her.

“Prototype contacts,” she says. “I can actually see without my glasses.”

“How did you afford—”

“I didn’t pay for anything,” she says, her smile gleaming. “I cut a deal with this salon and this makeup guy. I just have to plug their stuff in any interviews—”

“Really?” I ask. “I would have paid…”

“Eric,” she says, taking my hand. “I know you would have, but I feel better about it this way.”

I sigh and nod. As long as she didn’t have to pay anything, but damn, she looks stunning.

“This salon did a hell of a job,” I say, wishing I could just tear the dress right off her and take her now.

“Does that mean I didn’t—”

I cut her off, realizing the hole I’ve dug, “You always look incredible,” I say, “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that you look different tonight. I wouldn’t want you to always look like this, but it’s nice when you do.”

“Good recovery,” she says, smiling.