Stuck-Up Suit - Vi Keeland Page 0,22

figure out. Until now.

What makes you tick, Soraya Venedetta?

The more the woman pissed me off, the more I wanted her. By ten in the evening, I couldn’t resist any longer. I was turning into an aggrieved pussy.

Graham: How was your party?

She responded a few minutes later. It gave me some sense of peace that she wasn’t so enraptured with someone she met that she stopped checking her phone.

Soraya: On the train home now. Have I mentioned I don’t like clowns?

Graham: You haven’t. But I think that is a pretty common phobia.

Soraya: My little monster of a niece wasn’t scared in the slightest. Figures. What did you do tonight?

I was sitting alone in my living room with piles of documents strewn all over my glass coffee table and a cognac in my hand. Today had been a fourteen-hour day. Every time I thought of contacting her, I forced my nose back into my work. My eyes gave out before my desire.

Graham: I worked late.

Soraya: You know the old saying…all work and no play…

Graham: Makes Graham a wealthy boy.

Soraya: Maybe. But what good is wealth if you have no time to enjoy it.

I tossed back the remnant of my glass. I’d heard those exact words too many times to count. From my grandmother.

Graham: Have you thought about what I asked?

Soraya: Are you referring to my forthcoming calendar?

Wiseass. It was driving me nuts to know she was out tonight and had refused to commit to not seeing other people. Yesterday, I had told her that it was a deal breaker. At the time, I was trying to push her into an all or nothing decision in my favor. But after the last twenty-four hours, I was certain there was no way in hell I could do an open relationship with this woman. Usually, it’s me who avoids committing. I was getting a taste of my own medicine, I suppose.

Graham: I am.

Soraya: How about this? You’ll come with me to a social event of my choosing, and I’ll attend one of your choosing. If you still want to see me exclusively after, I’m game.

What did she think? That my spending time with her friends was going to make me realize we were so vastly different that it could never work? Or was it the other way around? She wouldn’t fit into my lifestyle. Clearly, she overestimated the extent in which I give a fuck about what people think in either camp.

Graham: It’s entirely unnecessary, but if that makes you happy, I’ll do it. When can I attend a social event of your choosing?

Soraya: Thursday night. Tig and Delia are having a party at their tattoo shop. It’s the one-year anniversary of the grand opening.

Graham: Friday night. The Pink Ribbon Gala at the Met. It’s an annual fundraiser I support.

Soraya: A gala, huh? I’ll have to dye my tips to match my fancy dress.

Graham: Is it a date?

Soraya: Two dates. And yes.

That night, I slept better than I had the last week. As usual, Sunday afternoon I visited my grandmother. She had me take her shopping and then made me one of my favorite meals. It was generally my only homemade meal each week.

Monday morning, I was up early and ran seven miles instead of my usual morning four. As I headed for the train station, I realized how much I was looking forward to seeing Soraya. When her stop came and went, and she didn’t get on, I pouted, then called my secretary to give her a list of things to do before I arrived. I knew it wasn’t possible to accomplish all of them, but at least it gave me an excuse to unload my frustration on someone.

That day, I was especially cranky. By five o’clock, I found myself again writing to Ask Ida.

Dear Ida:

There’s a woman who I look forward to seeing on the train every day. This morning she wasn’t there. I think she might be intentionally avoiding me because she’s unable to fight her sexual attraction any longer and is worried she’ll give in and let me have my way with her. How can I be sure?

–Celibate in Manhattan

Twenty minutes later, a response popped up in my inbox.

Dear Celibate:

Get a hold of yourself. Contrary to what it appears you may believe, the world does not revolve around you. Perhaps this woman had an early morning doctor’s appointment to refill her birth control pills. Something a celibate man like yourself might appreciate—that is, if you are ever afforded the opportunity to