Page 12 of A New Year's Toy

“Oh, please.” The heat in my cheeks can mean one thing, and one thing alone. I’m blushing.

Fuck.

“The last part isn’t true.” He releases me as the bellboy swipes the card on the key reader to open the door to our room. “I never leave a conversation with the other person thinking you’re just beautiful. Everyone around me knows you’re smart, talented, ambitious, queen of my…”

“That’s enough.” I elbow him. And laugh. The bellboy remains with his back to us, quietly pretending we don’t exist as we speak.

Yeah, it’s definitely expensive here.

“But you are.” Alistair’s smirk is audible.

“I get it.”

“Everyone else should, as well,” he drawls, then adds to my praise-loving self, “I’m so very proud of you. Even prouder to call you my girlfriend.”

I notice the change in him. I really notice it. Around the time we met, Alistair wore his huge heart on his sleeve. To his employees—and there are plenty—by treating them with respect as equals, to my best friend Rhodes who worked at Toy Shop with me and who now helps me run We Love You when he called to ask for advice about me.

To everyone except me. He treated me like he’d treated his other temporary lovers since he didn’t believe he was worthy of love. He held them all, including me, at arm’s length.

So, to hear him getting sentimental on me, it’s nothing short of an achievement for us as a couple. Getting him to love me is beside the point. It’s his ability to love himself that takes up every occupied space in my heart.

“Thank you.” I spin to face him, rising on my tiptoes and pressing my lips to his cheek. “Now, can we please relieve the poor man from listening to our PDA before we’re late for our meeting?”

CHAPTER SIX

Nola

Alistair and I sit in the conference room of Nous Sommes Rose, We’re Pink in French.

The family-owned sex toy company lives up to its name to the T—the cream-colored tablecloth around the oval table has pink embellishments, as do the curtains. The walls are painted in a dusty pink color to match a slightly lighter plush rug. Even our ceramic coffee cups have about a dozen tiny, adorable roses painted on them. In pink, of course.

I glance back at Alistair. He requested to attend the meeting as an observer, and I made him swear he wouldn’t interrupt it, not for anything. And that’s what he does. He believes I’m capable of holding it on my own, and so do I.

No, I don’t speak the language. No, I’m not familiar with their customs. But I’ve done my research for the last few weeks since setting up the meeting with them. I browsed through thousands of other adult stores in the US to check what we have and don’t have, and added an anonymous questionnaire to our clients to hear from them what they’d be interested in buying.

Regarding the costs involved, I’d say being my own boss for five whole months gave me a pretty good idea of what the price ranges should be.

I’m prepared, wearing the beige designer dress that hugs and molds over my curves and matching high-heeled boots.

Alistair purchased both for the occasion, which I didn’t mind one bit. Firstly, because the dress hits me below my knees to hide the bruises—as if he had plans to smack the backs of my thighs in advance, the deviant.

Second, his habit has grown on me, this layer of our connection, to a certain limit. Like the day a stylist arrived carrying a whole new wardrobe to my apartment two months into our relationship.

A harmless dress here or a pair of jeans there, I kept quiet about. The relatively small purchases don’t suffocate me or cause me to feel indebted to him.

I mean, who doesn’t like her boyfriend’s eyes heating and turning two shades darker whenever their gaze lands on them?

I do. Very much so.

And those are dirty, dirty thoughts I’ll have to postpone for the evening.

For now, looking at Alistair is all I have. Sitting by the window, wearing an elegant blue suit and gray dress shirt since we’re going out to lunch later and sipping on his tea, he’s a dream.

Quiet.

Handsome.

The light streaming in through the curtains creates a game of shadows and highlights on his face. They accentuate the edges of his angular jaw and the sharp lines of his cheekbones.

---