Page 119 of By A Thread
It was a real concern.
“I think I need another drink.”
“I think you do too,” he said placing another flute of champagne on the bar and then pouring a shot. “This is to take the edge off Vagina Exploding Vest Guy.”
“Thanks.”
“Cheers, doll.”
I made a few rounds, checking in on Dalessandra, and landed with a few of the ad sales reps near the kitchen. We’d astutely discovered we got first dibs on trayed appetizers if we actively stalked the waitstaff.
I kept tabs on Dominic as he circulated the room. Every time it looked as if he were heading in my direction, I made a hasty exit and went somewhere else. I’d even hidden in the restroom for twenty minutes trying to calm down. He was prowling. We were circling each other, and I just didn’t have it in me for another argument or another ten reasons why I wasn’t good enough for him.
“Can we just talk about how delicious Dominic Russo looks tonight?” Nina from advertising sighed into her wine glass. She was tall and slim with untamable curly hair and blue eyes that always seemed to twinkle.
“Yes, please,” Ruth said, feigning a swoon.
“I don’t think it’s fair that someone that attractive isn’t dating. Me. Dating me,” Copywriter Missie said. Missie was a petite little thing who had a tendency to burst into song when she was nervous.
“What’s his deal?” asked Gola, who was looking entirely too fabulous in a navy slip dress that highlighted her truly fantastic shoulders.
“Yeah, Ally. What’s his deal?” Ruth asked.
All eyes turned in my direction.
“Uh, how should I know?”
“You work five feet from the man. How is your brain still functioning?” Nina asked. “Mine would have turned to hormonal mush by now.”
“Have you tried giving up cheese?” I offered.
“Ally is immune to the guy,” Gola insisted.
“Immune? I wouldn’t go that far,” I said, pretending not to remember that I’d recently put new batteries for my vibrator on my shopping list.
“He’s so different from his dad. Like, besides the looks, I can’t believe they’re related,” Missie said.
“Yeah, Dominic Russo wouldn’t corner someone in the copy room and show them his dick,” Gola agreed.
No, he wouldn’t. Not even if she—I—wanted him to.
“Isn’t that a pity?” Missie said.
We all laughed. Some champagne made its way up my nose.
“It’s a little ironic, isn’t it, that what’s harassment from one douche would be welcome coming from someone else?” Gola mused.
“Consent makes everything sexy,” Ruth said.
“To consent,” I said, raising my glass.
“I’d consent all over Dominic Russo if he’d let me,” the adorably drunk Missie said to the bottom of her cocktail.
“Did that really happen? In the copy room, I mean?” I asked, swinging the conversation back in the direction from whence it had come.
“Girl, Paul Russo was a straight-up creeper,” Nina said. “The day he left, a bunch of us went out at lunch and bought cheap ass champagne and drank a toast to never having to get our asses groped again.”
“And then we did it again when Dominic came on board,” Missie added dreamily. “Because he’s so beautiful.”
