Page 52 of Billionaire Romance

"Yes," I say, nodding again. "It was a little overwhelming for a minute. I'm not usually a club person, but that's probably obvious."

Eric's mouth tips up into a grin. "From how amazing you look, I would say that you inhabit the nightlife regularly."

My cheeks are now a fiery red that I can feel and I'm grateful for the dim lighting because it might be harder to see it. The purple lights casting down from the ceiling cast part of his face in shadow and bring out the highlights. They make him sharper and more mysterious and I want to press myself closer to find out more. "No," I say. "My best friend, Iris, is a stylist. She helped me. Even though I know I should say I did all this myself."

He smiles again. "Nothing wrong with giving credit where it's due. I have a man who's made my suits for years, and I'll admit that I'd be lost without him."

And he looks damn good in the suit, too. He opened the button of his jacket when he sat down, and I can see the way his shirt is clinging to his stomach. Every part of it is fitted to him perfectly. I could lean back, take a picture, and it would be fine to put on the cover of a magazine. Like I thought earlier, this man is a fantasy. What the hell am I doing here with him?

I don't realize that I've said that out loud until he starts to laugh. "Oh my God," I say. "I'm sorry, I just didn't see my day heading here when I got up this morning."

"Life is kind of that way," he says, still chuckling. "I suppose I can give you a little background. My mother is hosting a Valentine’s Day party. I think I mentioned that it was last minute?" I shake my head as a waiter in black appears. "Do you have a drink of choice?"

"Anything that tastes good," I say.

He nods, and orders some drinks. The waiter disappears, and Eric sighs, looking down for a moment. "The planning of the party wasn't last minute, but the fact that my mother told me about it was."

I frown. "Why's that?"

Our drinks appear a second later and he takes a tumbler of something dark and deep, and the waiter hands me a glass of something bright red. It doesn't have any frills except for the ice and the bright color, but when I taste it, oh my God, it's delicious. Apple and sweet honey and something else.

"She knew that I wouldn't want to come," he says, taking a sip. "So she told me at the last minute so that I wouldn't be able to make other plans. Especially this time of year. You can imagine how busy the greeting card business is around now."

I smirk at him. "Does Edward still have his head?"

"He does," Eric says, smirking back.

"Good. Why didn't you want to go to the party?"

"Because I hate Valentine’s Day." He says it smoothly and evenly with no hesitation. So I know that he's not joking.

"You do?"

He nods. "With a passion."

"Am I allowed to ask why?"

I think I see a small movement in the muscle of his jaw, but it's dark enough in here that I might have missed it. "It's a long story," he says. "I'd rather not go into it."

"Okay," I say. "It just seems...a little ironic."

He looks confused. "Why?"

"Because one of the reasons I agreed to Bianca's request is that I'm always single on Valentine’s Day. I've never had a date before, and I thought it would be fun to not be alone."

Eric leans a little closer. "If you're always alone and you don't like it, I'm surprised you don't hate it as much as I do."

"I don't hate it," I say, mimicking his movement. "And it doesn't make me sad necessarily, just a little...melancholy? I think there's something really nice about a holiday that celebrates that people have found someone. Even if it doesn't always last. I don't think the fact that people put themselves out there and try is celebrated enough."

He chuckles. "I'll try to remember that."

"But yeah, the fact that you hate Valentine’s Day doesn't faze me. It's pretty par for the course. It almost seems fitting for my first Valentine's Date."

"I'm honestly a little sorry that my sister roped you into this. The party is probably going to be incredibly boring."

I give him a small smile. "I'm not sorry."

"Oh?"

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