Page 35 of The VIP Doubles Down

“Um, I’m not sure if I should go to the dinner party at Chloe and Nathan’s house. Nathan looked surprised when Chloe invited me, so it seems kind of ... weird.”

His eyebrows arched even more. “Weird?”

“You know.” She made a vague gesture. “They’re really rich and they just met me, and I don’t understand why I got invited.”

“Would you come to a dinner party here?”

“Here? That’s weird for a different reason. I work for you.”

“I’m trying to follow your logic. Not to be a braggart, but I’m quite rich as well. However, my wealth wouldn’t stop you from dining here. Your employment would.” He sat back in his chair. “Whereas Nathan and Chloe’s wealth stops you from dining with them?”

Allie gave him one of her patented don’t-mess-with-a-mountain-woman looks. “You know what I mean.”

“I suppose I do. They’re good people, Allie. Nathan made his money the old-fashioned way, by earning it. Neither he nor Chloe thinks that being rich makes them better than anyone else.”

“Maybe it doesn’t make them better, but it makes them different. And I have no idea what to wear!” Allie said in frustration.

Gavin laughed, a throaty, rich, fully committed sound of amusement. “Finally, we get to the crux of the matter.”

His laughter fizzed in her blood like bubbles in champagne. It was the first time she’d heard him sound purely happy. “My wardrobe doesn’t run to haute couture,” she said.

“I don’t remember Chloe or Miranda wearing anything particularly fancy at the book signing.”

“Trust me, everything they had on was designer.” The simpler the skirt or blouse, the easier it was to tell that it was perfectly cut for the wearer.

“I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Chloe worked for Nathan’s company as a temp. And Miranda was the assistant concierge in Luke’s apartment building. They both know what it’s like not to own designer clothing.”

Allie felt a small measure of relief. “Okay, but do I wear a cocktail dress, a regular dress, or nice pants?”

“Good God, I don’t know. Call Chloe and ask her.”

“What areyouwearing?” she persisted.

“I haven’t given it a moment’s thought.”

“Well, think about it now.”

Gavin looked at the ceiling again. “A pair of gray trousers, a black silk shirt, and a tweed blazer. With black loafers. Satisfied?”

“That helps, but I’ll take Chloe’s phone number, please.”

He texted it to her cell phone.

She decided it would be useless to ask him what she should bring as a hostess gift.

“Youarestill planning to come, aren’t you?” Gavin shifted in his chair.

Allie knew she shouldn’t, but it was too tempting to find out what a billionaire’s dinner party was like. Even more intriguing was the prospect of watching Gavin interact with his friends. “I’ll be there,” she said.

“I’ll pick you up. Now that you’ve become accustomed to riding in a car in New York.”

It had been a luxury to walk out of her apartment this morning and have Jaros, the chauffeur, take her duffel bag out of her hand to stow it in the trunk while she settled on the soft leather of the Bentley’s backseat. It turned out that Jaros was Ludmilla’s husband, which somehow made it all seem sort of cozy and friendly.

Ludmilla rolled a cart in the door, ending the conversation. Allie accepted some hot tea and a plate of dainty finger sandwiches just to please the housekeeper.

As Allie bit into the most delicious combination of turkey and avocado she’d ever tasted, Gavin nodded and said, “Keep eating so I can work you mercilessly.”

She’d been dreading this, knowing that she had nothing of value to offer the writer. She took another bite of the sandwich as a delaying tactic.