Page 343 of Tormented Billionaire Romance Series

Tim says, “I don’t know a great deal about what kind of work you do, but if you’re ever interested in changing careers, we could use someone like you on the board at Minder. The people we have now are among the most apathetic, timid masses of quivering flesh in the media business. What we could use is someone with your type of gumption.”

“You know, Tim,” I say, “if I weren’t certain you were just trying to hit on my boyfriend’s pocketbook the long way round, there, I’d consider it.”

Whoa. Oh, please tell me I didn’t just say that. Here we are having a perfectly amicable dinner and that’s what comes out? “Hit on my boyfriend’s pocketbook.” What does that even mean?

The table is silent for a second and Zach places a hand on my upper thigh. The gesture is hidden by the table, but I feel no less exposed.

Then it happens. It starts with Darla, but within a few moments, Tim and even Zach are boisterously guffawing. I smile and squeeze out a few chuckles, but I’m the death row prisoner getting a last minute call from the governor.

Under the table, I find Zach’s hand with my own and give it a squeeze.

Wiping his eyes, Tim says, “Zach, she’s a firecracker. You hang onto her.”

“I plan to,” Zach says and smiles.

The rest of the dinner is me finding not just my confidence, but myabilityto feel confident. It’s funny how people draw these imaginary lines between themselves and anyone they see as somehow different, but after sitting down to dinner with the kind of people that are supposed to have everyone peeing their pants, I’m finally starting to feel like there’s somewhere I belong.

When we get home, I’m not thinking about the picture. I’m not thinking about the store or what I’m going to do with it, and I’m not thinking about all the fickle people who find it so easy to hate me. For the first time since that shopping trip on Fifth, I actually feel comfortable in my own skin again.

Zach’s quiet, though.

I go to the kitchen and fix up a couple of drinks and Zach follows me into the kitchen.

“You all right?” I ask after a few minutes pass without a word spoken between us.

“Yeah,” he says. “I don’t know, I guess I just didn’t expect dinner to go the way it did.”

I stop pouring the vodka and look up at him.

“What do you mean?” I ask. “Were you hoping the evening was a disaster?”

“No,” he says, “not at all. I just mean, you know, you were different tonight.”

“I know,” I say, “isn’t it great?”

He says, “I’m glad you got along with Tim and Darla, but—”

“But what?” I ask. “I thought it was a wonderful evening.”

“It was fine,” he says, “it’s just—” His cell phone starts to ring in his pocket. He pulls it out and looks to see who’s calling. “I’m sorry,” he says. “This should just take a minute.”

Whatever’s got his panties all in a bunch, I feel great about the evening.

Zach answers the phone and moseys out of the room while I finish up making what I’ve decided to call a vodka sunrise martini. I was shooting for something else, but mixing drinks isn’t quite my forté.

I’m sipping and cringing when Zach comes back into the kitchen. “That was Marly,” he says, “there’s a problem at the office and I’m going to have to get over there for a little bit. Are you all right here?”

“Yeah,” I tell him. “Me and this place are becoming fast friends.”

Zach leaves and I’m finally able to pour out my drink. All of the flavors would have been okay individually, but together—I don’t even know how it happened, but it tasted like a cat burp.

Blech.

I spend a while looking at the amethyst countertops in one of the bathrooms, but the liquor I did manage to choke down is making me lightheaded.

I’d probably be fine, but the floor in here is a bit disorienting since an article I found guided me to the floor projection control. There’s no reasonable excuse for me to select a live feed from an orbiting satellite for my floor-viewing pleasure, but the Earth is spinning beneath me. Twice.

Fumbling with the controls, I finally give up and crawl out of there. Once there’s a less interesting floor beneath me, my vertigo begins to fade. I’m still lightheaded, though, so after slowly rising to my feet, I find Zach’s bedroom.

---