Roxie

I come out of the bedroom after a few minutes wearing the only dress that I bought once for an interview with social services—it’s plain navy blue and reaches to my knees.

Caleb takes one look at it and scowls.

“What?” I snap. “This looks like something presentable that classy women wear to parties.” Even as the words leave my mouth, I realize what I’m saying. “Fuck,” I say, “I look like your ex.”

He doesn’t reply, but I can see by the look on his face that I’ve guessed correctly. “All right,” I grumble, and go back into the room. I don’t want to remind him of Felicity.

I stare at the jumble of clothes on my bed and chew my bottom lip. Screw it. I’m going to wear what I want to wear. I don’t have to worry about fitting in. It doesn’t matter what I wear—I won’t fit in anyway. So, I might as well feel comfortable in my clothes.

When I come out of the room ten minutes later, Caleb looks up from where he’s sitting reading something on his phone, and smiles.

“Better?” I say, dropping a hip, and posing. I’m wearing a toned-down version of my favorite outfit: skinny black jeans, a tight cerise sweater, and black boots. I’ve pinned up my hair, although I haven’t spiked it, and my lipstick matches my sweater.

“Much.” He rises and walks over to me, puts his hands on my hips, and pushes me back to the wall. He brushes his lips against mine. “Don’t want to wipe this off,” he murmurs, but even that light touch sends shivers skittering through me, and my nipples tighten in my bra.

“You sure you don’t want to stay and have some fun?” I look into his beautiful eyes. They crinkle at the edges as he smiles.

“Don’t tempt me. Come on.” He takes my hand and leads me toward the door.

Sighing, I grab my black jacket and purse, and we head out.

We walk down the stairs and exit the building. Caleb presses a button and a pair of lights flash a few cars down. I stop and stare. “Holy shit.”

He throws me a grin and opens the passenger door. “Pretty, isn’t she?”

She is a charcoal-gray Aston Martin DB11 with a twin turbocharged 5.2 liter V12 engine.

I put a hand on the clamshell bonnet and stroke it reverently. “Oh my God, Caleb, is it really yours?”

“It is. Picked her up a few weeks ago. Care for a ride?”

“If I don’t, I swear I’ll die.”

He laughs. “Come on.”

I slide into the leather passenger seat and take a few moments to look around at the interior while Caleb gets in the driver’s seat. He shuts his door and clips in his seat belt, then throws me a smile. “You like cars?”

“She’s not a car, she’s a fucking beauty queen. She’s amazing.”

His gaze lingers on my face, warm and approving. “Come on, let’s take her for a drive.”

I clip in my belt and he starts the engine, filling the air with a throaty hum. The car purrs as he pulls away, and I sit back and feel as if I’m being carried to our destination on a cloud.

“You had the Bang and Olufsen Beosound system upgrade,” I say with awe, running my fingers over the screen.

Caleb chuckles. “You certainly know your cars.”

“I love cars. They’re like guitars—they’re a thing of beauty.”

He nods. I can see he’s thrilled I understand his fascination.

“I feel like a Bond girl,” I tell him.

“Pussy Galore?”

“Ha!”

He laughs and puts a hand on mine. “Let’s take a quick detour on the highway and I’ll show you what she can do.”

So we slip out of the city, and Caleb puts his foot down and we fly through the gathering twilight. The car barely raises her voice and we’re doing a hundred miles per hour. I’d love to see more, but all too soon he’s slowing and turning, and I sigh as he heads back to the city.

“Just a taste,” he says.

“Mmm.” I nestle back into the leather, wondering if I’m dreaming. Hopefully, lots of people saw me getting into the car. “So, tell me a bit about the party tonight.”

“Well, Harry and Gaby got married in Florence a few months ago. They didn’t have any friends or family there, and decided to have a small party to celebrate when they got back.”

“Okay, cool. It’s at their apartment?”

“Yes. Not many people, maybe a hundred or so.”

“A hundred?” Jesus. How big is their apartment? If I had ten people in mine, it would feel crowded.

“Just close friends and family,” he says.

If I invited my close friends and family, I’d be lucky to make ten people. It reminds me again what a different life Caleb leads. He’s used to socializing, and he feels comfortable in all kinds of situations.

Well, I’m with a gorgeous guy, he’s driving me there in his Aston Martin, and then we’re going back to his place for some magnificent sex. And to see his Rickenbacker. I’m going to enjoy myself tonight, no matter what the party is like.

*

I’m prepared to hate every minute of the evening, but in the end, I have a great time. We spend a while mingling, a word that isn’t really in my vocabulary, but Caleb walks slowly through the apartment, holding my hand, and introducing me to his friends. And everyone’s lovely. Colette’s there with Sebastian, and she gives me a big hug, and I get to spend some time with Gaby, who’s sweet and obviously head-over-heels for Harrison.

There’s real champagne, and lots of exquisite food. I hide a smile as I think of what my brother would say about the teeny-tiny portions—the little round pancakes with a smidgen of cream cheese and a square of smoked salmon, baby quiches about an inch-and-a-half across, that kind of thing—but they’re full of flavor and because they’re so small you can try everything and still have room for more.

The apartment is huge, with magnificent views across the city, but oddly, I don’t feel as out of place as I thought I would. With Caleb by my side, hardly letting go of my hand, I feel relaxed and at home.

Halfway through the evening, Harrison taps a spoon to a glass to get everyone’s attention, then gives a short speech, pulling Gaby to his side while he tells his friends how much he loves this girl and how he’s sorry they married while they were away, but he had to snare her before she escaped. I feel an unusual lump in my throat as Gaby pressed her fingers to her mouth, laughing even while tears form in her eyes, and Harry kisses her, lingering for a while before lifting his head and smiling.

I look up at Caleb. He’s so handsome, and yet somehow earthy too, although maybe that’s because I can picture him naked. He looks like a sportsman dressed up to get an award, more at home in a tee than a shirt. His collar just covers the place where I gave him a hickey.

He’s smiling, too, but he looks wistful. Is he thinking about Felicity? I wonder how in love with her he was. Maybe he wanted to marry her—maybe he proposed, and she turned him down. He might never tell me what went on there.

Well, it’s none of my business. I don’t know what’s going to happen after this evening, so I have to make the most of tonight.

I lift onto my tiptoes and press my lips to his ear. “Dance with me,” I whisper, and slide my arms around his waist, hoping to distract him from his sad dreams.