Page 44 of Hard to Resist

Big issue, actually.

“Shit.”

I shuffle to the side and study my reflection in the square mirror on the lobby wall. My hair is limp and oily after running a stressful hand through it a million times this past week. I was planning on washing it tomorrow before the event and hadn’t banked on going out tonight. My forehead is shiny as hell, and I have minimal makeup on because it’s not like I have to make an effort at work. Which is why my clothes are just simple black chiffon trousers held up with a thin red belt, a classic white tee tucked in, and sneakers. I’m wearing sneakers to the Scarmont Rooftop.

Oh my God, will they even let me up there in sneakers? I have no clue if they have a dress code.

I let out a groan as I tug my hair into a high ponytail, hoping it will conceal the worst of the damage, and then dig around my tote for a lip gloss that’s somewhere in its depths. The very same tote that I’ve had since college and is fraying at the seams. Every day is a guess about whether or not the strap will survive or snap. I need to replace it, but I just haven’t seen the need to budget for it when it still works. It’s yet another thing about me that doesn’t fit in with my surroundings.

I give my reflection one last look and just pray to the heavens that Cullen thinks I’m halfway decent.

The security guard manning the far elevator, sectioned off with a velvet rope, gives me an up-and-down look, which really doesn’t help with my self-esteem.

“Hi, I’m headed to the rooftop.”

“ID.”

“Right, right.”

I pull my wallet from my bag and hand him my license, which he checks briefly before handing it back. He doesn’t say anything else until the elevator opens and he removes the velvet rope for me to enter.

“Enjoy your night.”

“Thank you.”

My nerves start to needle under my skin as I make my ascent, and when the elevator opens to the top floor, I start to feel really out of place. The gorgeous girl manning the door gives me the same look as the security guard, her gaze sticking briefly on my sneakers before she plasters a thin smile on her face.

“Hi, do you have a reservation?”

“No, I’m meeting someone. They’re already here.”

“Mm. Okay.” She doesn’t look like she believes me. “Who?”

Yup. Knew it.

“Cullen.”

“Last name?”

Shit.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t—”

“Hey, is everything okay?” A deep voice cuts in, and my stomach does a flip, recognizing it.

Cullen stands in the doorway looking effortlessly sexy in a navy shirt and dark pants. The woman startles at his presence, but he just gives me one of his signature smiles before swooping down to plant a kiss on my cheek.

“I’m glad you could make it.”

“Me too.”

He snakes an arm around my waist and rests his hand on my hip, tugging me closer. “Come on.”

He pays the woman no attention, stealing me away and leading me through the doorway.

Two-thirds of the rooftop is enclosed but features tall floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the city. The room is lit with ambient lighting from black wrought iron chandeliers that dress the dark décor with an amber glow and a musky patchouli scent is pumped into the air. Soft chatter comes from the packed tables, and I struggle to see a spare seat.

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