Chapter Nineteen

Eliza

I swear if I have to squeeze my ass into any more formal dresses when Missy and Mason’s wedding is over, I’m going to scream. Why couldn’t they be another culture, like one that permitted long flowing nightgowns at events like these. Instead, I was tugging and pulling on the zipper of my tight-as-hell dress, hoping that it didn’t split down the ass when I sat in the chair. I hadn’t gained any weight; I just thought it would be a good idea to buy the sexiest dress possible, at the time. This was long before I met Anthony, though, and I was regretting my purchase, majorly.

Today was another event for Missy and Mason, though which one it actually was I couldn’t remember. There had been so much going on that I couldn’t even keep track of my own life anymore. And this damn zipper was going to be the death of me. I reached over and opened the drawer by the bed, grabbing the pliers—yes, I kept pliers by the bed—and grabbed the zipper, pulling it up. I flipped the pliers in my hand and tossed them back in the drawer, feeling accomplished.

I had been working on the wedding with Missy for quite a long time, and now with only three days left till the big event, she was starting to freak out. This was why I told her over and over again that with a wedding of this magnitude she needed to hire a staff to take care of everything, but no, she wanted to be stubborn and do it all herself. She had two parties to go after this one, and only one of them was she allowed to get completely wasted at, and that was the bachelorette party. So, while she was supposed to be greeting guests, taking pictures, and doing all the normal bride stuff, she was also going to have to manage everything. I told her I would do it, but she was being a Bridezilla, so I was just sitting back and waiting for her head to implode. In the meantime, I had a business to run and a boyfriend to keep track of. He was a mess too, but only because he had a huge possible merger on the plate for next year.

Speaking of Anthony, I looked down at my phone and rolled my eyes. He was supposed to be there over ten minutes ago to pick me up. I tried to explain to him that being the maid of honor meant I couldn’t just sashay into the party anytime I wanted. I had to be there on time, or Missy might have a stroke in the middle of the floor. He thought it was funny or a joke of some sort, but I told him he was seriously mistaken. When we went to brunch two days ago and I showed up ten minutes late, he saw it firsthand. I felt like Missy had unleashed the Kraken, and all the men went running into their hiding spots. Personally, I had gotten used to it, so I let her throw the fit and then forgave her when she started apologizing profusely for being a crazy wedding wildebeest. I felt worse for Mason because he had to hear about it night and day. That alone would make me rethink marriage.

At the end of the day, though, I got to spend time with Anthony, and that always made me feel better. It had been a month since our trip to Maine, and everything seemed absolutely perfect between us. He hadn’t had any more moments of pure panic, I had been able to settle back into a steady work schedule, and we were seeing each other almost every day. He had been coming to my house and staying the night a lot, not wanting to sleep in his bed alone. I loved his house, but having classes before the sun came up made it impossible for me to stay all the way in Manhattan, which bummed me out because he had a hell of a view from that place.

All in all, it had been an amazing month, and I now had a date to all these wedding events that I was being forced to go to. On top of that, I wasn’t going to be forced to answer a million questions as to why I didn’t have a boyfriend. It was like the best part of being in a relationship. I didn’t know why I didn’t think of this before. Oh wait, I had, and it was because most of the guys out there were complete and total douche canoes. At least I had found one that I wanted to stick around this time—that is if he could stop being late every time he has to pick me up for an event.

I walked over to the window just as his limo pulled up out front. Oh good, finally he made it. I guess I couldn’t be too upset; he wasn’t even the one driving. I walked into the kitchen and started unplugging the appliances and gathering my things. I heard him walk in the door behind me, and I sighed.

“Nice of you to show up,” I said, laughing. “You are going to have to take the brunt of Missy.”

I turned around to face him, stopping in my tracks and dropping my jaw. He stood there in the doorway wearing a dark blue Armani suit, wide silver tie, and the most charming smile I had ever seen. He looked so freaking gorgeous. Immediately I could feel heat begin to gather between my legs, and I started thinking of ways to get my dress off without having to unzip it. I dropped my purse on the table and walked over to him, immediately pressing my mouth against his without any words. He reached up and cupped my neck, opening his mouth and massaging my lips with his tongue. The kiss was passionate and heated, and all I wanted to do was rip his clothes off and fuck him right there.

Slowly he slid his hand down my body, feeling every curve that my tight dress clung to. He palmed my ass and pulled me into him, shoving his crotch against me. I could feel his cock hardening in his pants, and I pushed my hips forward, grinding against it. He groaned quietly and I pulled my mouth away, breathing heavily. I stepped back and put my hand out.

“Step away,” I warned. “If you come any closer, I will not be able to control myself.”

“Eliza,” he said laughing. “I just—”

“No,” I said. “Stay three feet away until we are safely out of this house.”

I walked over to the counter and grabbed my bag, leaning against it and catching my breath. I looked up at him as he laughed loudly, watching me struggle. He reached down and adjusted his cock, still hard from a few moments earlier. I shook my head and fanned my face with my purse.

“We should go,” I said.

I walked past him shaking my head, tossing my house keys to him. I started down the steps as he closed and locked the door, pulling out my phone to see a message from Missy asking where I was. I stopped partway and texted her back, letting her know Anthony was late, but we were on the way. As I looked up he walked past me in the stairwell, running his fingers across my thighs and smiling. I shook my head and let out a deep breath, following after him. I did not want to go to this party in the first place, and now it was even more difficult with my boyfriend looking like James Bond. We climbed in the car and sat opposite each other, trying to ignore the passion between us. He was so damn good-looking, and it drove me absolutely crazy.

“We could have been a little bit later,” he said with a smirk. “Missy is going to kill us the same either way.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’d rather have a bullet than slowly be tortured.”

“True,” he chuckled. “You look really beautiful, by the way.”

“Thank you,” I replied, blushing.

It was crazy to me that after a month and half of spending almost every day together, he still made me blush every time he paid me a compliment. Maybe it was because we were still in the honeymoon period, but I knew this man was never far from my thoughts, even at work. He looked out the window and let out a deep breath as we pulled up in front of the Waldorf, where the event was being held. I wasn’t even sure which event this was anymore since I had been at so many lately. What did it matter? It was an event with booze and free food, so I was completely up for it.

Throughout the event, Missy was dragging me all over the place, asking questions about the dinner reception the night before the wedding and the bachelorette party. I had all the information for the bachelorette party, but I knew nothing about the event. Mason’s mother and father were putting that on, and they didn’t really share their plans with the likes of me. She was a sweet woman, but she could barely even remember my name, and I had started answering to Liz, Amanda, and even Joan. One thing that did keep me going was looking up periodically into the crowd and finding Anthony staring at me with passion in his eyes.

When the event had simmered a bit and Missy was talking to a group of older women, I snuck off to the bar and ordered a glass of champagne. I sipped the bubbly and looked out over the crowd, exhausted from the whirlwind of Missy getting married. Across the room I spotted Anthony talking to Mason. He laughed with his charming smile, and Mason shook his hand, glancing over at me and smiling. I didn’t know what that was about, but at that point, I really didn’t care. Besides, I’d had a good feeling about Anthony for several days, and that little conversation of his just made it even stronger. I knew one thing was for sure, he couldn’t be talking smack, and he definitely wasn’t complaining about a lack of sex, so anything outside of those parameters was fixable in my eyes.

As I sipped my champagne, I heard Missy calling for me from the front. I sighed and downed the rest of the glass, curtsying at the bartender and running off to her beck and call. I went through the rest of the evening that way, running back and forth between Missy and the bar. She had so many things on her mind that she was trying to unload, that I felt like I should have brought a tape recorder. Finally, after about four hours, Mason stole her away, leaving me some quiet time. I leaned against the bar and lifted my feet off the ground, one at a time, trying to avoid the sting that was radiating through them.

“Hey there,” Anthony said, walking up behind me. “You want to dance?”

“I would love to,” I said, smiling at him.

I leaned down and took off my heels, putting them on the barstool and walking out onto the dance floor. Anthony took my hand and whirled me around, bringing me back in close to him with one hand around my waist and the other holding my hand to his chest. We swayed back and forth to the sound of orchestra music, and I smiled up at him, feeling warm against his chest. He leaned down and kissed my cheek, lingering over my ear.

“I love you, Eliza,” he whispered.

“I love you too, Anthony,” I said with tears in my eyes.

And off we danced.