Page 60 of Crazy In Love (Love & War #2)

“You might need to go to Alana,” I murmur. “Because I’m about to make a scene, and if you read your wife wrong and she doesn’t know about us, then I reckon things are gonna get noisy.”

“Holding her back and kissing away her fury. One of my favorite things to do.” Chuckling, he stands and moves around to face me, his back presented to the rest of the room and his hands coming down to fix my collar.

“I’m gonna support whatever choice you make, okay?

Wherever you go, whatever you do. If you leave me, I promise to only complain about it to my wife. Never to your face.”

I snort. “Thanks.” Stepping around him and onto the temporary dance floor, I try not to focus on the nerves burning in my veins.

The nausea in my stomach. I ignore the moisture trickling along my spine, and good fucking lord, I pretend I don’t see Alana’s careful prowl as she, too, approaches her best friend.

She’s about to fuck me up, if I fuck this up.

My palms turn sweaty, and eyes follow my progress through the dancing crowd. Elbows bump my arms, and couples make out.

Jesus. They’re all watching.

I lick my lips, swallowing the spit that tastes an awful lot like gonna puke , then coming up on Fox’s right, I tap Franky’s shoulder and wait for his eyes. “Hey, kiddo. I was wondering if I could dance with Fox?”

I see her in my peripherals. Her brows shooting high, and her cheeks warming with a sweet blush.

“Your mom’s right here,” I murmur, tilting my head toward a furious Alana. “So maybe you could dance with her for a bit while I dance with Fox? ”

He tugs his hands from Fox’s and spins to escape. But Alana is fast, pulling him in and forcing him to sway.

He drops his head back and groans, loud and unapologetic.

“I didn’t think you liked to dance in public?” Fox steps closer, wrapping her arms over my shoulders in an entirely non -platonic way. Pressing her belly to mine, she creates this magic where the music gets a little quieter, and my staring crowd becomes a little less obvious.

Her smile, though… fuck, her smile fills my vision from corner to corner.

“People can see you, Christian.” Her eyes glitter with menace, though her fingers trail through the hair at the back of my head, which makes everything else tolerable. “People might be judging you.”

“It’s so odd you’d say that when you’re literally the only person I see right now.” I don’t kiss her, though I kinda want to. And I don’t lay my forehead on hers, though I want that, too. “You look really fuckin’ pretty today. Did I tell you?”

“In the last hour?” She tilts her head. “No.”

“I’d say you look prettier than the bride, but the bride can hear me right now, and it’s not polite to say so on such important days.”

“Uh…” No longer playful, her body tenses, and her eyes grow harder, frantic, as she leans closer. “The bride can, in fact, hear you. Shush.”

“Because you don’t want her to know about us?” Set it on fire, Chris. Do it. Be brave. “I know we agreed not to tell her. We had our reasons, and I’m not sorry for them. But things have changed now. A lot has changed. Because I’ve fallen?—”

“Fox?”

Like ice water on a sleeping kid, she jerks away with a viciousness that leaves my heart aching, turning on her heels and clapping her hands to her mouth.

Then she gasps, locking eyes with a dude I don’t know.

Broad shoulders, dark hair, and a stare that looks her up and down like he fucking wants her.

“Booker?” She screams, throwing herself into his arms and wrapping him in a hug that makes me want to puke.

He catches her, lifting her half an inch off the floor, only to chuckle when she slams a noisy kiss to his cheek.

Fuck me… I’ll just watch. I guess.

“Holy cow, Booker!” Jittery and excited, she stands on her own two feet. But she doesn’t let him go. Even when he tries, she holds on to his suit sleeves with the kind of desperation I feel in my heart. “You’re supposed to be in Rome! What are you doing here? ”

Alana’s eyes swing to mine. Probing. Glaring. She widens them, then flicks her wrist like, ‘ Get in there, stupid. Do something!’

Frustrated, she slides into their hug and interrupts the reunion from hell. Because I’m a pussy. “Booker! Hi.”

“Alana.” He holds on and crushes her against his chest. “Happy wedding day. I received an invitation, and then I couldn’t make it. Now I’m here, and I feel awful for not communicating that in advance.”

“You’re always welcome.” She inches back, and because Tommy’s fast on his feet—faster than me—she grabs his hands and drags him into our gathering. “Booker Hemingway, this is my husband. Thomas Watkins.”

“Tommy.” Tommy shakes his hand and squeezes a little longer, a little harder than necessary. “I’ve heard about you, Booker. Glad you could make it.”

“So sorry for dropping in unannounced.”

“It’s not a problem.” He releases him, then hooks a thumb my way. Because I’m a fucking pussy. Passive. Silent. Completely and utterly cucked by this man who interrupts the single most important sentence of my life.

“My brother, Chris. Chris,” he grits out, “this is Booker Hemingway. Fox’s boss.”

“Fox’s friend, first and foremost.” Fox practically vibrates, giddy and grinning while I shake the man’s hand. “Holy shit, Booker! It’s like seeing sunshine for the first time in five weeks. What happened to Rome? You said you couldn’t be here.”

“Did you leave a gift at the front door?” Franky pushes his way into our group and slides his glasses up his nose. “It’s customary to leave a gift when you attend a wedding.”

“Franklin!” Alana claps her hand over his mouth. “Ignore him.”

“I didn’t bring a gift,” Booker confesses. “I’m sorry. I was actually…” He brings his eyes back to Fox. “I’ve been trying to call you for a couple of hours.”

“You have?” She pats her hip. Her backside. Right where her phone would be if she wasn’t wearing a gown. “Crap! I left my purse in Tommy’s office. Why?” From delight to dread, her smile falls away. “What’s wrong? You said you couldn’t be here, and now you are. Who is?—”

“Everyone is fine.” He wraps her wrist in his hand.

So gentle. So fucking intimate. Don’t touch her!

“I didn’t mean to give you a fright. I was actually calling you with good news.

I left Rome last night, and the timing just kinda worked out.

So I flew here, instead of home, because I wanted to tell you myself. ”

“Tell me what?” She questions. “What news? ”

Alana’s eyes narrow to dangerous, challenging slits. “What was so urgent you flew in from Rome for it?”

“Well, I was flying, regardless,” he chuckles.

“The destination, though, changed while I was at the airport. Then, like I said, I tried to call. I knew the wedding was today, and I knew you girls are close. So I figured this was one of those serendipitous moments where everyone can be together while I tell you.”

“I’m so sorry, Booker.” Alana grabs his wrist and curls his hand back in threat. “I don’t mean to rush you, but I’ve had a hell of a month, and I haven’t slept more than three consecutive hours in quite a while. If you don’t share your good news immediately , I might snap your arm.”

“The board met yesterday.” Quick as a flash, his eyes swing back to Fox. “They decided they’d like you to come to them.”

“To Rome? For next year’s meeting?”

“For the next five years.” He beams, like his words aren’t a knife at my throat. “They want you to move to Rome and help set them up the way you have us.”

“What?” Tommy’s eyes whip across to mine, then back to the dude. “You want her to move to Rome? Georgia, right?”

“Italy,” he laughs, brushing a hand over his lips and meeting Fox’s eyes.

“I had a pretty good feeling they’d jump when I told them you were interested.

I didn’t wanna get your hopes up, in case it fell through.

But they’re all in, Fox, which means that dinner I wanted to get once you returned to New York is kinda being pushed up. ”

“But…” Her voice crackles, rasping and breathy. And though she brings her eyes across to me, they’re not nearly as bright as I remember them. Shaking her head, she looks back at her boss. “That’s not what I thought you were going to say.”

“You’ve been talking about Rome for years . You begged for this.”

“I know, I just…” She swallows, her throat bobbing with the movement. “Wow. I thought you were transferring me to marketing. Not to Italy.”

“Both, actually.” He touches her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Amedeo wants you in Rome, and he knows you want marketing. So I pitched the whole deal. They see what you’ve done for us in New York. They were skeptics, but they saw the proof. So now they want to borrow you.”

“F-for five years?” she tremors, visibly shaking and tucking hair behind her ear. “You want me to move to Rome for five years?”

“It comes with an extremely sexy salary package that includes accommodation. So you could sublet your New York apartment if you wanna keep it, or you could let it go and stay in Italy.”

“Stay in Italy,” she gulps. “Jesus.”

“Or go to London and do the same again.” He practically dances, oblivious to Tommy’s glare. And Alana’s.

Franky’s.

Fuck, what does my face look like?

Trembling, Fox peeks my way and searches my eyes. So I paste on my most convincing smile.

Kill me. Bury me. “You pitched this idea?” Put me out of my fucking misery. “Holy shit, Fox. You pitched this, and now he’s delivering the good news. That’s exciting.”

“He gets it!” Booker hooks a thumb in my direction, and because he’s clearly accustomed to touching her, he grabs Fox’s hand and sandwiches it between his. “You got everything you wanted. All of the terms you stipulated. That’s why I came here instead of waiting for you to get back in a week.”

She studies me, her lips dropped open, and her pulse thundering in her throat.

So I hold on to my smile.

She asked for this!

I’ll be damned if I’m the reason she second-guesses her instincts.

“Fox? Honey?” Booker gives her hand a gentle shake. “Are you listening? It’s all a bit exciting, I know.”

“Uh…” She blinks and turns back to him. “Yeah. It’s a lot.”

“We need you in New York on Monday to sign the contracts, and Rome by Wednesday before Amedeo flies out to London for a few weeks.”

“Monday?” I snap. That’s only two sleeps. Two! Not eight.

“As in, the day after tomorrow?” Alana questions. “A whole week earlier than planned?”

“Yeah.” Booker grits his teeth. “I know. We don’t mean to rush you, but Amedeo will be in New York for just a day, and then he’s heading to London as soon as you’re settled in Rome. To make this a smooth transition, the timeline is tight.”

“But she’s on vacation right now,” Tommy growls. “You approved her for six weeks off. Not five. It’s not appropriate to discuss business while she’s on vacation.”

“Why…” Finally catching on, Booker frowns. “Why are we acting like this isn’t the single greatest news we’ve heard this year?” He brings his eyes back down to Fox’s. “Honey. This was your pitch. ”

“She’s just in shock, that’s all.” I take a step forward and gently lay my hand on the small of her back. Massaging. Soothing, maybe. “If this was her pitch, then it’s good news. She just needs a minute.”

“Chris…” Alana admonishes. “This is a lot to think about.”

“It has been thought about.” Kill me. Stab me in the heart and let me bleed out. “It was thought out when she pitched it.”

“You think this is a good idea?” Fox gives Booker her back and stares up into my eyes. Hers well with emotion. They glitter with something approaching tears. And when she opens her mouth to speak, her jaw trembles. “Christian. You, uh…” She clears her throat. “You think I should go?”

“Yeah.” It’s what’s best for her. It’s what she wanted. The proof is on the fucking wall. She pitched this. Six weeks in bed with me shouldn’t change the plans she had for her life. “I think you’re a traveler at heart, and the idea of living in Rome for a little while would make you very happy.”

“Rome is a long, long way away, Christian.” Tommy burns me with his glare. “It’s a whole other country, with visa requirements that mean people can’t just vacation there for five years. There’s red tape and permissions and sponsors and all that shit.”

As in… I can’t go.

For a weekend here and there, sure. For a month, even. Absolutely. But not for five years.

“I know.” I hold Fox’s gaze and show her my most convincing smile. “This was your dream. It was your pitch. Don’t let future-Fox pay the price for the choices this-Fox makes, all for the sake of a week in Bumfuckville.”

Alana shakes her head, firming her lips and glowering. All in Fox’s blind spot.

“I thought I was bringing good news.” Booker nervously laughs. “I swear, I thought it would be extra excitement added to an already exciting day. But if I’ve made a mistake, I sincerely apologize?—”

“No. It’s good news.” Closing her eyes, Fox robs me of what I want to see most of all. Then she turns to her boss and opens them again. “This is amazing news. I’m just surprised. This wedding was kind of a surprise, too, so I’m having one of those days, ya know?”

“So you want to go?” Alana grabs Fox’s chin, drawing her around. “You want to move to Rome? All by yourself.”

“Sure.” She pulls Alana’s hand away, but she places it on her cheek. A caress, instead of an attack. “It was my idea, right? It’s what I was working towards.”

“Great!” Booker exhales a heavy breath, folding at the hips like he’s just come from a five-mile run. “Jesus. You scared me! I thought something had changed.”

“Something has changed,” Alana grumbles, tugging her closer.

“She’s leaving the day after tomorrow. I thought I had a week left with her.

Now I have two days. See ya, Booker.” And with that, she drags her away, past Tommy and around Franky, and though Fox’s eyes swing helplessly to mine, she remains captive to Alana’s fierce grip.

“Oh… well…” Booker releases a nervous snigger. “Alright. Well, I guess I’ll see her at the office on Monday, then.”

“Fuck!” I turn on my heels and stalk in the opposite direction. To drown myself in the lake, if I’m lucky. “Fuck!”