“No,” I answer. The money disparity has always been huge between the two of us, but I hadn’t considered our intellectual differences. I didn’t—no, couldn’t—read the financial pages. I knew nothing of how to run a business. When Ian jetted off to another state to look at “wearable tech,” I’d made a comic book joke. Richard is invoking doubts I hadn’t even realized I should be worrying about. The outdoor air is suddenly chilly.
“Don’t feel bad. I’m not too good at that myself. It’s why Ian looks down on me. Anyone who’s not as successful as he is doesn’t warrant more than a second glance. He’s notorious for being even worse with women. No one’s good enough for him. Not socialites or hedge fund managers. They’ve all got some kind of flaw.” Rich takes another draw on his cancer stick, the ashes almost to his fingers. “I’ve seen way too many tears wiped away after he’s tossed these poor girls aside. Guy’s a menace. Should keep his pants zipped.”
Each word Richard unfurls is like a punch in the solar plexus because they strike directly at my insecurity. I’m worried that I’m not good enough for Ian. That he’s too rich for me. Too smart for me. Too everything. Hearing it from Richard’s mouth batters me like a physical club.
Hadn’t Ian said that he’d pursued me because I was a challenge? That’s all I was. A convenient f**k and a big ass source of amusement.
“We’re friends,” I repeat numbly.
“I’m not telling you this stuff to be mean. I’m right there with you in the undesirable pool. We rejects gotta stick together.” Richard tosses the butt on the ground and grinds his foot in it. “What’s your phone number?”
I give it to him without hesitation, and he inputs it into his phone and sends me a text—which I can’t read. Richard leans close to me, the tobacco smell heavy on his breath. “Like finds like, Victoria. I’ve a lot of practice in mending broken hearts.”
“I’m still whole,” I say and wonder if I can remain that way.
“Don’t let him ruin it, ruin you,” he whispers. His mouth is only inches away from my ear. “Come dance with me.”
I don’t want to. Richard isn’t so charming anymore. His words have gouged me, and I’d like to go to the bathroom and lick my wounds. But Ian’s absence must mean that I’m supposed to use this time to reel Rich in.
“All right.” I place my hand in his upturned one.
“I’m a terrible dancer,” Rich confesses as he leads me back inside. “I always need to stand next to someone so I don’t look foolish.”
I go with him because there isn’t anyone to stop me. He takes me by the hand and leads me down onto the dance floor. The press of the crowd pushes us closer together, and Richard places his hands on my waist.
“I don’t want to lose you out here.”
I put my hands on his shoulders so I don’t look like an unwilling mannequin. Richard has lied, of course. He’s a great dancer. His hips move easily to the rhythm and his hands drift lower, fingers splaying to reach more intimate parts of my body. I back away, but there’s little room on the packed dance floor.
Under my palms, his body feels alien to me and I don’t want to touch him, but in the small space that the crowd has allotted for us, I can’t do anything about it. When he slides a thigh between my legs, the intimacy is simply too much and I feel claustrophobic. This isn’t what I want. I don’t want to have to touch him, dance with him, or kiss him. God, will I have to kiss him?
Before I can break away, there’s a commotion behind me and then a familiar hand wraps around my waist and pulls me firmly against a hard body.
“I’m sorry, Rich, but Victoria has to leave.” Ian doesn’t wait for a response from me or Richard. Instead, he literally lifts me off my feet and carries me to the edge of the dance floor, the crowd parting before him with ease. About five steps beyond the dance floor, Ian sets me down and I totter, momentarily disoriented and unused to the heels. His hand, still latched to my side, braces me.
“Don’t you think Victoria should be the one to decide when she leaves?” Rich has followed us, but Ian doesn’t even turn to look at him. He buries his nose into my hair, and I feel the whisper of a kiss against my head.
“She’s got an urgent task to take care of,” he says flatly.
“At midnight?” Richard’s voice is full of skepticism.
“Yes, at midnight.” The hand at the small of my back presses me forward as Ian gently propels me toward the rear of the club, past the centrally located bar and the huge circular aquarium. Beyond the dancers, the partiers, and the watchers and out into the night.
“I don’t get you,” I mutter, shivering a little.
“What’s there to get? I don’t like other men touching you.” His words are clipped. When we’re at the street, the big gray car is idling, waiting like a giant gray panther to whisk us away. He opens the door and almost shoves me inside. Over the top of the roof I hear him say something to Steve, something like “long way around the park.”
As Ian settles next to me, he presses a button and the privacy screen rises. I stare at it until Steve’s head is completely cut off and we’re entombed in silence in the back. There isn’t even music and almost no street sounds inside this luxurious car.
“Are you really that compartmentalized?”
“Your change of subjects is dizzying.” He reaches for me. “And you are much too far away.”
“It’s that you told me you want me and then it turned off when Richard showed up. I can’t keep up with that.”
“You’re wrong.” His hand comes up to the base of my throat, his fingers curling around to press on the pulse of my heart. No doubt he can feel it beating rapidly.
“Stop it.” I push his hand away. “What are you doing? You ignore me for twenty minutes and then pull me off the dance floor to grope me in the car?”
He lets out a loud snort and then turns to look out the window. The lights of the street and stores flash by as Steve maneuvers us around the north side of the park. In a gruff, low tone, almost as if he doesn’t want to say it, Ian admits, “I always want you. Watching you with Howe was a miserable experience I don’t want to repeat. I hadn’t realized I’d feel this way.”
“I’m confused, too,” I mutter.