Page 34 of I'm Looking for a Man in Finance
She nodded, ticking off each point on her fingers. “This is purely an arrangement. We’re not pretending to be friends. No strings attached. Absolutely no kissing. And each date needs to be extravagant—got to make sure my boss is happy with the material.”
I quickly mulled over her requests. While none of them were outrageous asks,absolutely no kissingrang around in my head for reasons I wasn’t ready to explore yet. I reached out my hand for her to shake.
“You drive a hard bargain, Hallie Woods. But you have yourself a deal.”
After what felt like ages of silence, Hallie finally asked, “What will I call you?”
“What do you mean?”
The bartender slid another Old Fashioned in front of me, and Hallie’s attention shifted to the glass. Her eyebrows arched in surprise. Then, a dazzling smile illuminated her face, a smile that was far too radiant for any camera to do justice.
“You’ll need a cover-up name in my article, obviously. Mr. Old Fashioned. I’ll call you Mr. Old Fashioned.”
12
Hallie
“Do you think it’s too much?” I asked Roxie as I stared at myself in our floor-length mirror that we had scavenged from the side of the curb a few blocks over when we first moved. New Yorkers take that saying “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure”veryseriously. I thought I’d won the lottery when I stumbled across an only gently used couch on the Upper East Side that I later found out was worth over ten thousand dollars brand new. Asking Roxie if we could borrow the gallery’s delivery truck to get it home had been totally worth it.
Tonight, I was going on my first date with James Rossi, also known as Mr. Old Fashioned, and I was only mildly embarrassed by the fact that I had spent nearly two hours trying on my entire closet in search of the perfect outfit. Not that I cared what he thought, obviously.
“There’s never a thing as too much. You look stunning, Hal,” Roxie said as she lay on my bed wearing an off-the-rack dress that had premiered in last fall’s Fashion Week, with no intention of leaving the house to be seen in it. “Where did he say he was taking you?”
It was a Friday night, and I hadn’t heard from James after our conversation at Whiskey Locker until this morning. I was starting to think he was having second thoughtsabout our deal, when an extravagant bouquet of roses and a note were delivered directly to my desk atSophisticate.
Around lunchtime, Anthea walked past my desk, the huge mass of roses enough to catch her attention, and everyone else’s, before she saw the note signed “Mr. Old Fashioned”. She looked at me with an eyebrow raised. “I’m excited to have this week’s article in my inbox Sunday night.” Then she was gone as quickly as she had appeared.
Seven o’clock, formal wear—that’s all the note said.
Thus, I was standing in front of my second-hand mirror in a Valentino dress from Roxie’s closet which she’d found at a thrift store for a fraction of the original cost. The black silk, trimmed with delicate lace, clung to my curves, its thin straps rested lightly on my collarbone. The fabric felt cool and smooth against my skin, while tiny embroidered butterflies in vibrant colors added a touch of whimsy to the otherwise elegant piece. I silently thanked the universe not only for Roxie and I being the same size, but also that her eye for beauty extended beyond art. The most formal thing I owned was a plain red cocktail number that paled in comparison to this masterpiece.
“The card didn’t say where we’re going, just that I need to dress formal and be ready by seven,” I said, glancing at Roxie as she sprawled out on my bed, a dreamy sigh escaping her lips.
“The one time I decide not to tag along, and all the fun stuff happens,” she muttered.
I recapped the lipstick tube and slid it into my clutch. “It’s not like this is a proper date.”
“Says who?” Roxie sat up, giving me a bewildered look. “The chemistry between the two of you over the pastmonth is palpable. I’ll be surprised if you end up going home alone tonight.”
“Roxie!”
“What? Who says you shouldn’t indulge a little?” Roxie grinned and gave me a suggestive shoulder wiggle as I finished buckling my heels. It was three minutes before seven.
But just as I began to explain exactly why I shouldn’tindulge, the buzzer for our apartment rang. With unprecedented speed, Roxie leaped from my bed to let James up.
“Roxie,” I warned as I followed closely behind her. But once my best friend got something in her mind, there was very little that would stop her. Roxie ignored me and reached for the doorknob.
James Rossi appeared in the doorway of our small apartment, his perfectly cut tux a striking sight against the worn walls. His dark hair, usually neatly combed, was styled with extra care, each strand perfectly in place. Time seemed to stand still as the two of us took each other in. A thrill, warm and electric, shot through me as his eyes lingered on me, sending heat licking up my spine.
“Well, suddenly this has grown quite awkward,” Roxie spoke up, breaking the trance that had descended between us. “I’m just going to go crack open a bottle of wine and watchHow to Lose a Guy in 10 Daysfor the millionth time.”
James’s gaze remained fixed on me as he directed his comment to Roxie in the kitchen. “Matthew McConaughey was fantastic in that.”
Roxie paused, glancing over at him, clearly amused. “I didn’t think you’d be into rom-coms, James.” She pulled a bottle of wine from the fridge and began hunting around for the opener—one of the few kitchen utensils we had,seeing as it was an essential. “Men like him in romantic comedies are a dying breed.”
“I have my moments,” James said with a chuckle, before turning his attention back to me. “Are you ready?”
I was accustomed to seeing James in his impeccably tailored suits, but the sight of him in this midnight-blue tuxedo was nothing short of a feast for my eyes. The fabric hugged his frame flawlessly. The faint aroma of his luxurious cologne mingled with the air and I could already feel the anticipation swirling around us.
