half-naked and looked bored. Just another day at the office.
“That’s the point. Besides, I’ve never walked the end of a show with anyone. It’ll get the press talking. You don’t mind, do you?”
“I might wreck your entire show and ruin your launch, your career, and then your life. I’m not very lucky right now.”
“I’ll take my chances. Maybe you should take a couple of your own.”
God willing, in a few short months, the house would be sold, Dad’s bills would be covered, and I could afford to take a few chances. Maybe start a new life somewhere nowhere near Dominic Russo. Perhaps the West Coast. Or I don’t know, Thailand? Although, I wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving my dad. Not now. Maybe I’d just vacation in Thailand?
Bottom line. A little fashion industry speculation would have zero effect on my life.
“Eh. It’s fine. Let’s go stir up some shit,” I decided.
“Good. It’ll be fun,” he promised.
42
Dominic
The show was finally about to start, and I was beyond grateful because it meant that in thirty minutes I:
A) could give up the pretense of small talk and schmoozing.
B) had time for one more drink.
C) could go home and forget about Ally and that goddamn red dress.
Lying to myself was my new favorite hobby.
Of course she’d look like that in fucking couture. Half angel, half devil in siren red. But I’d still be compelled to watch her from across the room if she’d showed up in sweatpants and an I Heart NYC sweatshirt.
I was drawn to her. Inexplicably. Unfairly. Stupidly.
And I had to do something to get her out of my head. It was unhealthy. This week I’d actually looked up the dance studio schedule where she taught and thought about having Nelson cruise by after her class. Then I thought about how stalkers probably felt about their victims, and I had him take me to a bar instead.
I was drinking too much tonight, but I could blame that on my mother. Apparently, Drunk Me was nicer than Sober Me. My mother always encouraged me to have a few drinks before social events so I wouldn’t scare away advertisers.
If I had too much—breaking news: hell yeah, I had too much—I’d Uber home, leave my car for an intern to pick up.
I ditched my empty glass on the bar and waited. The bartender in a gold lamé vest shot me a knowing look. “Rough night?” he asked, pouring me another.
“You speak the truth,” I said. Dammit, the niceness was kicking in already. I picked up the fresh drink and turned to scan the ballroom. Where was she?
I didn’t see a goddess in red. She’d camped out in front of the kitchen to snag more appetizers, which immediately made me worry that she wasn’t using her new paycheck to buy actual food. I spent a lot of time worrying and wondering about her.
What she ate on the weekends.
What she did late at night when she couldn’t sleep.
If she thought about me half as much as I thought about her.
I hadn’t seen her since I’d worked up the nerve to go over and strike up a conversation with the women she’d been talking to. It was reasonable that I could ask the ad rep about the new online ad sizes we’d be rolling out. And I could have looked at Ally. Maybe even smiled?
But she’d disappeared. Whisked away by that goddamn designer who should have been more worried about the success of his line than one woman in a dress.
Even if it was Ally. Especially if it was Ally.
This cold, professional thing with her was killing me. I missed her sitting on my desk and fighting with me. I missed the sparks that ignited when we argued. I missed her.
The lights began to dim in the room. A buzz of excitement rose as people moved to take their seats next to the runway on white linen-covered chairs.
I still didn’t see Ally, and I was beyond the point of trying to hide the fact that I was looking for her. I stopped Irvin on his way to the front row. “Have you seen Ally?” I asked.
“Who?”
“My assistant,” I said dryly. I lived in a world where everyone should know her.
“I think I saw her in a little United Nations circle.” He chuckled.
Another comment that rubbed me the wrong way. I was going to revisit the topic of Irvin with my mother and soon. “I meant recently.”
“In that dress? If she’s smart, probably off enjoying a tryst in a dark corner.”
I