Page 25 of Boss of the Year

This moment had been recreated in movies and books for a reason: its perfection couldn’t be improved.

Daniel’s gaze didn’t budge as he guided me through a few simple turns. This man, this so-called playboy, who had never seemed to be able to stick with anyone or anything for reasonable periods of time, was completely focused on me.

“Everyone is watching us,” I said as he whirled me around.

“No, everyone is watching you.”

“They want to know what I’m doing here.”

“They want to know who you are. The prettiest girl at the party, and no one knows her name but me—finally.”

My body hummed under his touch, under the magnetic force of that cheeky grin. Like he couldn’t help but take me all in, Daniel’s gaze dusted over my face, neck, shoulders, and, yes, my cleavage, with the kind of appreciation I’d seen him bestow on others.

And now it was on me.

“Marie Zola.” My name was a rumble, deep and content, from the back of his throat.

The butterflies in my stomach returned.

Flirting. That’s what this was. You’d think it would be easy, considering I’d grown up in a family of flirts. My grandfather called his wife “doll” until the day he died. My brother charmed every girl in the neighborhood. Lea, Kate, Frankie, Joni—all ofthem different, but all of them had the natural understanding of how to bat their eyelashes, flash their teeth, giggle, chide, retort, or compliment, to get exactly what they wanted.

But to me, flirting had always been a foreign language.

Daniel Lyons was my soulmate. I’d known it since I was fifteen.

Did that mean I wasn’t supposed to laugh, even if I did find his joke funny? Or should I laugh more than the rest of them, even if he wasn’t funny at all?

I settled for a simple smile.

He didn’t seem to mind as he moved me around the dance floor. I’d never been more grateful to have been raised by people who came of age in the fifties. Nonna forced all her grandchildren to learn to dance to standards just like this, so while I might have felt unsure in Daniel’s arms, at least I could box step.

“I should have told you,” I admitted after two more turns that brought me close enough that I wassurehe would feel my heartbeat through his tux.

“Told me what?” Another flash of his grin had me seeing stars.

“My—my name. On the plane. I shouldn’t have toyed with you that way.”

He frowned, almost as if he’d forgotten what had transpired only hours earlier. “That’s right. You are a cruel little thing, aren’t you?”

His reply was confusing. To be cruel didn’t sound like a good thing, but his expression indicated he liked it.

“A cruel but beautiful, bewitching woman messing with my poor heart.” He took my hand off his shoulder and brought it to his lips. “How ever will you make it up to me?”

More flirting.

Was he looking for a real answer? Another apology? Or was I supposed to say something that was similarly paradoxical to the point of satire? If he was calling me cruel, should I call him entitled? Say something like,Well, you deserved it, you spoiled little boy.

The idea made me cringe.

I was completely out of my depth.

“I have an idea.” Daniel drew me close enough that his mouth brushed the top of my ear. The buttons of his jacket cut through my silk. “Let’s go somewhere. Talk. Keep getting to know each other again.”

Again.

Like we had before.

Like herememberedme after all.