“I can go,” I volunteered, suddenly hopeful as I half-rose to my feet.
Nick’s hand shot out so fast, it’s like it was super-charged.
The speed with which it happened was quite simply baffling, and the way he clamped down upon my wrist required some sort of explanation. He countered both discrepancies with a dazzling smile, flashing those dimples that never failed to get him out of a pinch.
They certainly didn’t disappoint now.
“Don’t be silly,” he forced me back down with a deceptively iron grip, as both the waiter and Ella swooned in unison, “you and I always take these introductory meetings together.”
This time, I made the mistake of accidentally meeting his smoldering gaze. While his smile remained, his eyes quite simply promised death if I left him alone.
I yanked free my wrist with a smile of my own, and rubbed it discreetly under the table.
“I always have time for you, Nick...”
“How sweet,” he said dryly, before turning back to the waiter. “The lady would enjoy tea, please.”
As the waiter hurried off, more confused than ever, I made a valiant attempt to pull myself together and take control of things once again.
I’m not going to lie—the crotch-grab threw me
for a second. As did the fact that a girl I’d thought was simply ambitious, was actually a certifiable psychopath. But if my time spent working in public relations had taught me anything, it was that everything was a matter of spin.
This may have been my mistake—one derived from an ill-conceived plan based off an even more ill-conceived notion I didn’t fully understand—but I would fix it. I simply had to.
Otherwise, I’d be using that butter knife sooner than I thought.
And since Hurricane Ella was obviously a destructive force that none of us had the means of containing, I would simply have to act like the joke was on me too.
“So Ella,” I interrupted her mid-rant about the benefits of testing certain kinds of make-up on animals first, “tell Nick a little bit about yourself. The same things you were telling me.”
He shot me another testy look, but she was more than willing to oblige.
“Well, I just got a modeling contract from Ford. The thing lasts for an entire—”
“That’s right!” I interrupted quickly. No need in him finding out that even her new employer had given up on her already. “A prestigious contract. What else?”
Come on—give me anything. Anything I can use.
“I’m allergic to peanuts.”
Nick and I both blanked.
Okay, uh...literally ANYTHING besides that.
“Well to be honest, my life’s pretty much an open book.” She started trailing a sharply manicured fingernail across the tablecloth, inching it closer and closer to Nick’s side. “I just got to New York from a town in Oklahoma—of all places—so I’m brand new. Just looking for someone to show me the city. Someone who won’t be afraid to get their hands a little dirty—”
“That’s right,” I intervened, leaning forward to give the speech myself. “She just got to the city, so she’s brand freaking new. No scandal. No skeletons in the closet. How many models, heiresses, and actresses living in New York can say that with a straight face?”
Granted, Ella looked like she was ready to change that scandal thing in a big hurry...
“I also really like Zumba—” she ventured again.
“She comes from a mid-western Protestant family. No criminal record. No sex tapes that she swore she didn’t have, but a month later, the entire internet is watching her in a bee-keeper uniform, committing every blasphemy under the sun.”
(Texas. Ten months ago. Don’t ask.)
“She doesn’t drink. Doesn’t smoke. And in the last election, she voted the same way as over half of the board.”