Page 153 of Boss of the Year
Because wasn’t that the moral of the song? The girl’s ability to keep goingwithouther lover. She could let herself go and still acknowledge the pain, which was how she learned that even if she wanted to be chosen, maybe she didn’t need to be after all.
The thought was freeing.
“Ma chére cheffe.”
I turned to find Riad, the blue-haired charmer, standing behind me, clearly appreciating my movements. Sylvie stood on my other side, looking as though she was doing the same thing.
I smiled. “Ouais?”
“Dance with me,” he called. “Not on your own.”
He closed the distance between us and kissed me to raucous cheers from Sylvie and other dancers around us. The kiss was soft, brief, friendly rather than passionate. When we broke apart, Riad was grinning.
I, however, froze.
Had I just kissed a stranger?
The bass line thrummed as if to confirm.
“You taste like sugar and absinthe,” Rian called over the music.
“Is—is that good?” I stuttered.
“A perfect combination. A little bit angry, a little bit sweet.”
The last word hit me like a hammer. Sweet. Just what Lucas called me.My sweet Marie.
Anger flooded through me, just as a round of shots arrived on a tray, which Sylvie quickly delivered to us and several others around us.
I tossed two down in quick succession. “No more sweet,” I declared to another round of laughter from Sylvie and Riad.
Sylvie threw back her own shot, then caught my hand and spun me around. The movement brought us close enough that her perfume washed over me all over again, and I could see gold flecks in her brown eyes.
“My turn to taste the American,” she said with a wicked smile, and before I could think too hard about it, she was kissing me too.
This kiss was different—softer lips, longer, with a friendliness that had nothing to do with alcohol. When she pulled away, I was breathless. And shocked all over again.
“How was that?” she asked, observing me carefully.
“Different,” I said honestly.
She laughed delightedly. “Ha! You are full of surprises,Marie de Bronx.”
I nodded. Was I full of surprises? I was certainly surprising myself tonight with the clothes, the drinks, the kisses, and the recklessness I had embraced.
But maybe I was this person now. Why not? Marie, the wallflower virgin, was gone, lost to late talks in a hot spring and a mind-melting night in a Mayfair flat. I’d never get her back, so perhaps it was time to embrace whoever came next.
A person with short hair and wide blue eyes caught my gaze across the dance floor. They moved like water, all fluid grace and controlled power. When they approached me, I didn’t shy away.
“Danse?” they asked.
Finding it harder to think straight, I nodded.
We moved together to the pulsing rhythm, their hands on my hips, mine on their shoulders. They were beautiful in a way that transcended traditional categories, with sharp cheekbones and full lips and eyes that seemed to glow under the flashing lights.
When they leaned in to kiss me, I met them halfway and closed my eyes. This kiss was hungry, almost desperate, and for a moment, it was all too easy to pretend it was Lucas’s lips that devoured me. Lucas’s tongue slipping in to twist with mine. Lucas’s hands slipping around my waist to pull me closer.
But…no. It wasn’t him. I knew it the moment we broke, and the laugh, the feel of the person was lovely, but not for me.
