Page 10 of I'm Looking for a Man in Finance
And honestly? I didn’t blame him.
Me? I’d done my best to keep up. My dress was a second-hand find from a shop in the East Village with no label and a mystery origin story. The corseted bodice hugged my waist just right, and the hem skimmed my calves in a way I hoped looked more “quiet luxury” than clearance rack. I’d paired it with the only heels I owned that didn’t destroy my feet—still not convinced I’d make it through the evening without blisters—and a clutch I’d found on deep discount at Barney’s.
I’d spent the entire cab ride rehearsing how to look like I didn’t care about fitting in—even though I did. The women here would be dripping in silk and old money, with manicures that matched their handbags. I’d curled my hair into loose waves and swiped my signature red lipstick to make up for the fact that nothing I was wearing had ever been written up inSophisticate.
This was Roxie’s zone, despite not having grown up in this world. She lit up around rooms like this—her laughter a touch louder, her smile a little sharper. I was just hoping to make it to dessert without knocking over a glass of wine or accidentally insulting someone’s hedge fund.
“A celebration with people I don’t know who don’t know that I am writing an article on dating finance guys on Wall Street?” I lifted a perfectly filled-in eyebrow at my best friend.
“You know Michelle,” she countered. I’d been at the art gallery with Roxie on more than one occasion when Michelle Granger had come in to buy a new installation for her home or to use at a charity auction she was hosting.
Michelle was one of those rare Upper East Side womenwho was warm without being fake, generous without needing applause. She had a sly sense of humor that could disarm even the prickliest person, and she and Roxie hit it off immediately when Roxie sold her a ceramic piece titledWoman Smoking at Sunsetand told her, with full sincerity, that it reminded her of Michelle.
Roxie smirked, her eyes gleaming with that mischievous sparkle. “And you never know—maybe there’s a hot, eligible finance guy here tonight. You could knock two birds out with one stone. You’re due for a little action,” Roxie whispered in my ear as we stepped into the kitchen, where men in Armani and women in minimalist cocktail dresses lingered around a long marble island, sipping on drinks that were being served by a bartender in a black button-down.
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “I’m here to write about them, not date them.”
She just grinned wider. “Same difference.” Then she took a deep breath as she prepared to blend in with the crowd. I didn’t mind her leaving me. Observing others was part of my job, and I was more than content to play the wallflower for a little while.
This was Roxie’s prime—getting to rub elbows with people in a different tax bracket than us. She could shmooze her way into a royal wedding, I was sure of it. Add a little alcohol to the mix and she could either become the life of the party or a liability—there was no in between. But she was my soul sister despite her few flaws, and there was no one I’d rather walk arm-in-arm with into a party at a mansion on the Upper East Side.
“Roxie!” Michelle swept across the room in a floor-lengthblack dress. Her flaming red hair shone brighter than almost all the perfectly curated art in the room. “I’m so glad you made it. Hallie, it’s lovely to see you again.”
Michelle leaned down to give me an air kiss on either cheek. I’d been around my fair share of wealthy people at Roxie’s art gallery and the double kisses would never be something I’d get used to. “Hi, Michelle.”
“Please, make yourselves comfortable. Grab a drink. Dinner will soon be served.” Michelle squeezed each of our hands. “Elliot is around here somewhere. I will make sure he says hello.”
And just like that, she disappeared back into the crowd of guests.
“Come on, let’s grab a drink,” Roxie said. Despite how much reassurance Roxie gave me or I gave myself, I could never stop that inky, black voice from sliding in from the depths of my mind to remind me that I didn’t quite fit in and would never amount to other women. Which was part of the reason I liked to avoid functions like this entirely.
Armed with a drink in my hand—part liquid courage, part social armor—I finally felt brave enough to scope out the other guests that were here tonight. Most of them were people I’d seen around the gallery or knew from the gossip tabloids. That was until my eyes locked with a pair of deep-blue eyes from across the room.
Damn.
He was the definition of tall, dark, and handsome. With his long legs crossed casually at the ankles, he leaned against a kitchen counter. He’d left the top few buttons of his dress shirt undone, revealing sunkissed skin and agold chain that twinkled under the overhead lighting. A Rolex flashed on his wrist and the golden signet ring on his pinky rested against the glass he was holding.
Well-dressed, mildly good-looking men were a dime a dozen in this town. But then there washim.
His gaze lazily flicked toward my feet before trailing back up my body. There was a fire roaring in the sitting room off the kitchen, but it felt like I’d thrown myself directly into it.
“Hallie?”
“Yes?” I snapped my gaze away from the man across the room and glanced over at Roxie, who was looking at me like I’d suddenly fallen ill.
“Michelle asked us to take our seats?” Roxie gestured at the rest of the group as they made their way into the formal dining room. I glanced back over toward the kitchen to see the man still leaning against the counter, his gaze still locked on me like he had all the time in the world.
“Sorry, just spaced for a minute,” I told my best friend, who seemed to buy my excuse for the temporary lapse of attention.
“You’re sitting across from me,” Roxie whispered in my ear as she spotted our place cards on the dining table. Michelle had sat us toward the end of the table, which I was thankful for. It gave me fewer people to keep up appearances with, even though I knew Roxie could hold a conversation for the both of us.
As I rounded the table to take my place across from Roxie, a hand appeared from behind me and gently pulled my chair out. “Looks like we’ll be sitting next to each other tonight.”
The voice was deep, sending goosebumps across my shoulders as I followed the hand up to see the stranger from before smirking down at me. A single dimple appeared on the left side of his full lips, the kind that could make you forget your own name if you looked too long. And, from this close, I could see different shades of blue in his eyes, like layers of the ocean. So easy to drown in.
My pulse stuttered, and the world seemed to narrow to just the space between us— intimate and impossible to ignore. I looked away, heart hammering, and slipped into the chair that he had pulled out for me. His body heat kissed the skin of my back as he pushed my chair in. The fireplace at the far end of the room crackled, but the flush creeping up my neck had very little to do with the flames.
“I’m James.” He extended a hand, still standing beside me.
