Page 74 of Tomorrow Belongs to Us
The slimy little snake. He's obviously seen Lance and that's the reason why, because he's been avoiding me ever since we had a showdown. After Preston got the job, I asked Brannock for feedback. He gave me nothing. I asked him what more I needed to do to prove myself. He didn’t have an answer.
No one here knows that I'm looking for another job, but I have a third interview next week at a company I really like.
Brannock doesn’t seem impressed by Lance and barely glances at him. Maybe because it’s obvious that he and I are together.
So, we move away and mingle with other groups, wanting to get away from my boss and from Preston. Lance’s hand is either holding mine, or on my waist. And we’ve developed a strangely easy and comfortable togetherness. This is who we were meant to be. This is the future I used to imagine all those years ago.
After some more mingling and small talk we make our way to the beautifully dressed tables for dinner. People still stare at Lance, and I feel as if I’m gliding on air. I did the right thing. This is a great impression to make on my last appearance at this event. It's a good way to leave the company.
We're soon seated and it's with relief that I find I'm not sitting with the boss. But Preston is at our table and so is the rest of my department. Preston is on my right and Lance is on my left. I'm sandwiched between them.
Soon the speeches begin, and I groan. Wine is poured. It will be flowing for the rest of the evening.
It will help.
I lean closer to Lance's ear, and am hit by his scent; clean, fresh and zingy. A scent I have come to know so well. A scent my body responds to.
“This has the potential to bore you to death. You'll need to drink.” I start to pour him some wine, but he puts his hand over his wineglass and shakes his head.
“I'm not bored. I'm with you.” He leans in and speaks directly into my ear, his lips may or may not have brushed my ear lobe. A charge of electricity jolts up my spine. My insides melt. Possibly my panties, too. “I don't need to drink to get through this. It's my privilege.”
My insides turn gooier than they were. He's doing it again.
I told him to pretend he was insanely in love me with and that he had eyes for no other woman, and he’s been doing just that.
He can’t be pretending, can he? Because I want this man so much. I need him. He smiles at me. His gaze dips to my lips and we forget that we are in a room filled with a sea of tables.
“Can you pass the wine?” Preston nudges my arm. Asshole. I hand it to him without turning to look at him. Then I hear a wail and I’m forced to turn around.
“You’ve knocked over a glass of water,” Lance says quietly.
“Oh, God, no!” I see the river of water spreading outwards on the table.
“Clumsy,” mutters Preston, because some of the water dropped onto his pants.
“I’m so sorry—” I grab a napkin and start to soak up the liquid.
“Excuse me.” Lance has summoned a server who takes over from me. He takes my hand. “Look at me. Breathe,” he instructs me calmly. When I’m looking into his eyes, I feel calm and in control. “The server’s dealing with it.” His voice is gentle, almost hypnotic. I forget that Preston is annoyed with me, or that the other guests were staring at me.
I just see blue.
Lance’s eyes.
Cornflower blue.
My heart misses a few beats. I reach for my glass of wine, but my hands are shaking. Lance takes the other hand and places it down in the space between us. Now he’s holding both my hands and I’ve turned in my seat to face him, with my back to Preston.
“It’s okay. It’s only water. It’s being take care of. He’ll live.” His hands are warm and comforting and I don’t want to let go. “Shall we go?” he whispers so close to my ear, his scent washes over me. I look at him in confusion.
“You can't just leave. We haven't had dinner.”
“I mean, go for a walk in the grounds. They look nice. Wouldn't you rather be outside than in here?”
That is a brilliant idea. We get up and leave, and heads turn to stare at us. I don’t even tell Preston what we’re doing. Remy looks over at us, but I don't care. I don't care, because Lance is holding my hand and stroking it.
He's been so good to me.
As we step outside away from everyone, he lets go of my hand. I turn to him in disappointment and reach for his hand again, but he doesn’t let me grab it.
