Page 26 of Boss of the Year
Like he’d secretly pined for me just the way I had for him.
I knew it was ridiculous. Impossible, even. But just the same, there was that tiny, not-insignificant part of my brain, the voice of the wallflower who wasdyingto be noticed, who dreamed about Daniel Lyons doing just that, who couldn’t help but wonder: Did he?
It was a spark of hope that burst into flame.
People were still watching us with vague interest, the way they always did when Daniel Lyons talked to a pretty girl. Men peered with envy and appreciation. Women judged with considerably more distaste.
“Please, Marie.” Daniel’s lips feathered over my cheek, his breath sweet with champagne and strawberries. That orange blossom-vanilla scent toyed with my senses. “You only gave me a taste of who you are, and I’m already addicted. I need more. Don’t make me beg.”
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t hear over the thundering of my poor heart.
I managed to pull back enough to look at him directly, just to make sure there was no sign that this was some horrible joke.
Those big blue eyes, as deep and bright as the Caribbean, were utterly serious.
“The conservatory?” Daniel asked before drawing my knuckles to his mouth. “Ten minutes?”
He rubbed a thumb where his lips had just been, and was it my imagination that he played more over the ring finger than the others? The one where I’d always fantasized his diamond would rest?
That flame of hope grew brighter as the rest of the world faded away.
Maybe that sad, lonely girl hadn’t been so desperate and deluded after all. Maybe the destiny I was owed was here. I’d waited long enough, but it was finally happening.
I swallowed my fears, ignored the blatant stares and dizziness in my head, and nodded. “O-okay.”
“I’ll get some more champagne and meet you there.” Daniel’s kiss to my cheek tingled. “See you there, gorgeous.”
My heart was in my throat as his cologne wound around me like a hug.
This couldn’t be happening.
And yet it was.
For me.
“I’ll see you there,” I whispered.
But he had already heading into the crowd.
I shoved a hand through my hair, taking a moment to calm my heart before I followed. “And then maybe I’ll wake up.”
6
VANILLA TOMATO SALAD
*use the whole bean to infuse finishing salt.
Daniel hadn’t gotten more than a few steps from me before he was stopped by another familiar face.
Actually, Winnifred Lyons was more than familiar. The thin, elegant woman, a dead ringer for Anna Wintour, was Daniel’s mother and the person who originally interviewed me, even if she wasn’t the one who signed my checks.
I doubted she would remember that—not just because I looked vastly different from the scrawny, fifteen-year-old housemaid, but because it was unlikely that any of the Lyonses knew every member of their large staff. Especially when they barely interacted with most of us.
My assumption, however, evaporated the moment her razor-sharp gaze landed on me with clear and focused recognition.
Recognition and disapproval.
“Marie,” she crooned as she took hold of Daniel’s sleeve, then gestured for both of us to follow her to a quiet corner of the tent.
