Page 59 of Savage Suit

Unless I give you permission to contact me after work hours, please refrain from doing so. This is unprofessional and unacceptable. Good night.

Ass. HOLE.

Fuck him. He wouldn’t get the last word.

OK.

I’d powered my phone off. If he responded and proved my theory correct, I wouldn’t have been able to sleep. Either we would’ve gone back and forth the entire night orhewould’ve turned his own phone off. I shouldn’t have worried. When I turned my phone on the next morning, I’d received nothing else from him. It had been presumptuous to think he’d engage in a texting battle.

Shoving those memories aside and storing away the day’s purchases, I went through my closet and settled on two dresses. I couldn’t decide whether I’d prefer the dark green off-the-shoulder cocktail dress or the elegant, black maxi dress. It would help if Ian had given me a damn clue about where he’d take me; I wanted to be appropriately dressed.

Not being able to decide, I left the outfits on the bed and hopped in the shower, taking care to exfoliate and meticulously clean every inch of myself. By the time I finished, I had turned my tiny bathroom into a sauna. I wrapped bath towels around my body and hair, then got out my makeup case and set it on the bathroom counter. I couldn’t beat my face if I didn’t know what I’d wear. To solve my vain dilemma, I padded into my bedroom, where the two dresses lay side-by-side on the bed, and played Eenie Meenie Miny Mo. The dark green cocktail dress won. Because it was flashier than the black dress, I spent extra time and care in making up my face. My long, curly hair hung down my back. If I had time, I would’ve flat ironed my tresses as I’d had done for the masquerade ball. No matter. I looked damned good and heartily approved of my reflection in the mirror. I picked up my perfume and sprayed my wrists and behind one ear just as the doorbell chimed.

Perfect timing, Ian.

I quickly whiffed the other ear. Glancing at my watch, I grabbed my purse as I went to answer the door. “Right on time,” I said to Ian the moment I opened it, beaming up at him.

“Every minute with you counts,” he said with a smile.

I walked out into the hallway and turned my cheek to his descending lips. Though he knew I considered him only a friend, he’d continued his flirtations. I ignored his come-ons because I enjoyed Ian’s company. We lived in our own little world, where he took his shot and I overlooked him with the same vigor. Our awareness of the fucky behavior had worked well. Tonight, though, there was a different vibe between us. One where he allowed me to see the disappointment on his face because I didn’t let him kiss me on the lips. If I acted normal, maybe he’d whip himself back in place, too, so I pretended not to notice his letdown before closing my door and locking it tight.

We sat at one of the best tables in The Roman Pillar, Ian’s favorite restaurant, as I learned while waiting for appetizers.

“Hagen, I have a wonderful evening planned. I hope you have your dancing shoes on.” Even though the smoldering looks he gave me made me slightly uncomfortable, Ian’s enthusiasm was contagious. “I called in a favor. After dinner, we’re going to one of the most exclusive nightclubs in the city.”

“I am ready for anything that you are.”

Because of Ian’s endearing kindness and constant consideration, I tried to convince myself I’d eventually remove the friendship label and give him a chance.

Yet, gazing at him now, listening to his drawl, I knew I’d never develop romantic inclinations toward him. After the humiliation of my first sexual experience, I relied on practicality in my relationships. In the past, Ian checked off all my requirements. I would’ve settled into dating such a good, reliable man, a genuine gentleman. He wouldn’t have pressured me for sex, understanding my six to twelve week waiting period before intimacy.

Despite my best efforts, though, lust overwhelmed me. Unfortunately, not for Ian.

All the names my parents called me…No, no, and no. I couldn’t go there.

I touched upon the planes and angles of Ian’s face, awaiting common sense to save me. It didn’t happen.

He just wasn’t…he wasn’t…Noah. Whom I couldn’t have. Noah. Was. My. Boss. It wasn’t his fault he electrified me and fascinated me. I told myself he’d be a selfish lover, as controlled in bed as he was out. Nothing dampened my attraction. Overnight, I’d become that starry-eyed sixteen-year-old. I framed my desire as lust, though it felt much more profound.

It didn’t matter. If Ian made an advance tonight, I’d reject him, possibly damaging our relationship. The idea upset me, and I prayed he’d not put me in such a predicament. Still, I couldn’t string Ian along, so we’d remain friends while an unhealthy attraction tied my emotions. Such double dealing wasn’t fair, and he had his own life to live free of games.

“Would you like to know what comes next?” Ian teased a little later, as we enjoyed papaya Tres leches. The Irish crème liqueur coffee topped with mountains of whipped cream was itself a meal.

“Oh, how you intrigue me.”

Smiling, he studied me as he had the entire evening. “Just how curious are you?”

I laughed at his exaggerated leer.

“Why don’t you surprise me?"

Out of the corner of my eye, a gorgeous man sitting with an attractive blonde a few tables away caught my attention. My heart skipped a beat as recognition dawned.

Holy fucking shit, Noah was here, too!

“Ryan, are you alright?” Ian asked, concerned, as he caught my expression.

“Yes. Why do you ask?” I answered, sounding anything but alright and very distressed even to my own ears.