Chapter 6

6

MASON

R ex, my personal driver, was never late. I made him pick up Fia tonight, however, and I still wasn’t totally convinced she was capable of being on time for anything, so the fact that it was five minutes past seven either meant Rex was in a terrible car accident or Fia was holding him up.

It shouldn’t matter, honestly. It was my nerves talking. So what if they were a few minutes past the time I highlighted, underlined, and wrote in bold on the schedule I emailed her? It wasn’t like this was a sit-down dinner. It wasn’t casual, by any means, but still.

I glanced over my shoulder at the crowd making their way through the foyer of the Plaza Hotel toward the entrance to the ballroom, everyone dressed in shades of blue, and wondered, not for the first time, what Fia chose to wear tonight.

I’d seen the charges on my credit card statement, of course. Not that it mattered, either. I wanted her to use the card. I felt excited, actually, when I got the notification that she’d swiped it. I couldn’t explain why I suddenly felt so off kilter. Reminding myself that this was just business didn’t seem to be working any longer, especially when Fia walked through the doors into the hotel and I lost the ability to breath.

I walked forward without realizing I was crossing the foyer, brushing past partygoers moving in the opposite direction, just to confirm I wasn’t seeing things. But no, there she was, handing her coat to the concierge with a dazzling smile on her beautiful face, her body draped in blue satin that made her glow like liquid gold.

She turned to me and her smile widened, but her eyes were glassy, a hint of nerves lingering there. Her thick brown hair was loose and falling in gentle waves down her back, framing her face, and God, she was just stunning. I was awestruck. I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting. I couldn’t explain it otherwise.

“Mr. O’Leary,” she said, stepping toward me in a pair of heels that made her a few inches taller. I still had to look down at her as we met toward the entrance of the hotel, ignoring the other gala guests flooding the area. Her smile faltered a bit as her eyes fell to her heels. “Does the dress meet your standards?”

“Uh. Yeah.” I had to clear my throat to continue, “You look—you look absolutely breathtaking.”

She looked back up at me, her expression soft and tender, which did something strange to my insides. “So, I met the dress code this time?”

“Yeah, you did.” I was losing it. The dress hugged her body in a way that tastefully showed off every curve and I was in a trance, to say the least. I desperately needed a drink. “Shall we?” I offered her my arm, and she took it, resting her hand in the crook of my elbow, and we turned toward the ballroom.

“Have you ever been to the Plaza before?”

“Yeah, a few times. They have a great restaurant,” I replied, my mouth going dry. “Have you been here?”

She laughed. “No, God no. I’ve walked past it plenty.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Well, I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Why was I still looking at her like I couldn’t look away if I tried? Seeing her in blue was a dream. Plain and simple. I had the sudden urge to change every dress requirement on our schedule to list blue but snapped out of it the second a waiter coasted by, offering us flutes of champagne.

We each took one and walked into the ballroom. Fia gazed around the room, then up at the ceiling, where a massive crystal chandelier showered light all over the crowd. White Christmas trees sprang up in every corner, shimmering with light. Blue carpet runners created a maze throughout the room, perfectly matching the giant blue ornaments decking every tree.

“Wow,” she mused, tightening her grip on my arm. “This is incredible.”

Yeah, she is. I mean— “Yeah, it is.”

Auction tables had been set up around the perimeter of the ballroom, but the main centerpiece drew us both in at the same time. A shiny, light blue convertible had a crowd piled around it, everyone leaning in to get a better look.

“Oh, cute.” Fia beamed, tugging me along. “Do you know the song, Santa Baby? A ‘64 convertible too, light blue ?”

“I’m familiar with it, but that’s a Fiat.”

Her laugh worked its way into my bones. “Obviously. You should bid on it.” She pointed to the sign propped up next to the car, mentioning how all proceeds of the auction go toward the Rasmussen Foundation for disadvantaged youths and other educational programs. “It’s for the children.”

“I wouldn’t fit inside of it, unfortunately.” I towered over the crowd, but Fia had to stand on her toes to get a better look at the car. “You’d fit perfectly, though. You should bid on it.”

“The starting bid is over ninety grand!”

“You have my credit card.” I took a sip of champagne and wished it were something stronger. “Go crazy.”

She shook her head. “I’m sure you saw how much I spent on this dress already. I’m not using it again.”

“Oh, please. The way that dress fits you makes it worth far more than what you spent on it—” I stopped myself before I could do any more damage, but Fia was already looking up at me, her cheeks going pink, and her full lips twitching into a smile. I drained my champagne. “Fine.”

“Fine, what?”

“Excuse me.” I stepped through the crowd gathered around the ugliest car I’d ever seen in my life and quickly scribbled a bid on the clipboard sitting on its windshield. I was sure someone else would outbid me, hopefully, seeing as I only had the stomach to bid $150,000. I stared at the car for a moment, frowning, then walked back over to my date.

“You actually did it.” She laughed around the rim of her champagne flute. “Oh, what if you win? You’re going to have to drive that thing around.”

“ You’d be driving it because I’d have to park in front of your apartment. I have a reputation, Miss Webster. I can’t be seen in that thing.”

She laughed again, a real laugh, uninhibited and bright. It worked its way through my body as I led her from table to table, letting her decide what else to bid on. A pair of diamond earrings caught her eye, so I bid on those, and admittedly, I would be happy if I won them. They would look great on her.

“What’s the difference between an auction like this and the auctions that take place downtown?” she asked.

I furrowed my brows in thought as I guided her through the crowd. “You mean like at an actual auction house?”

“Yeah, where they hold up paddles and occasionally yell at each other. Oh, excuse me.”

A trio of men in tuxedos separated us, cutting right between us, but I quickly stepped back to Fia’s side, my hand splayed wide over her lower back. Cutting a glare at the men for barreling over Fia like that, I explained, “This is a silent auction, so we write our bids instead of calling them out.”

“Which do you prefer?”

I steered her toward the far side of the ballroom where a long balcony overlooking the city hugged the exterior wall. A bar had been set up in the corner and only Heritage Spirits was being served tonight, hence my invitation. Finally, a drink. Something stiff, I thought, to numb the feeling of my hand on Fia’s back. “I prefer neither.”

“What do you like to do, then?” she said with a laugh. “Sit in your office all day, not speaking to anyone?”

“I actually don’t mind that at all.”

“Is that why you wanted this arrangement? To keep you from having to go out and find a date on your own?”

“You’re not just my date,” I replied gruffly, leaning down to brush the words into her ear as a group started walking in our direction. “You’re my long-time girlfriend and I’m proposing to you on New Year’s Eve, remember?”

Her cheeks went pink again and I felt things I had no business feeling. I shouldn’t have been thinking about how badly I wanted to say something that would make her blush even harder, wondering what that blush would look like blooming down her neck and chest.

A man in smart black tuxedo sauntered up to us, winking at me before he swept his gaze over Fia. “Good evening, beautiful,” he practically purred.

Fia started, looking up at me for confirmation that the man was someone I knew and not a random, extremely forward stranger.

I nodded curtly. “Greyson. It’s been a while.”

“Oh, hello, Mason.” He kept his dark green eyes on Fia, giving her a flirtatious smile. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes to the ceiling as Greyson Morrow, a trust-fund baby turned mega-rich and equally arrogant heir to his shipping tycoon father’s massive estate, swept his greedy gaze over my date from head to toe. I wasn’t sure what else he did for work, honestly, but he was always at these events, and he always had a glass of Heritage Spirits bourbon in his hand. “Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

“It was a last-minute invitation.” I narrowed my eyes at him as he continued looking at Fia, who had stepped closer to me, tucking her hand back in the crook of my elbow. “Greyson, this is Fia Webster. I don’t believe you’ve met.”

“How’d you get stuck with this old stick in the mud?” Greyson smiled, tilting his head toward me. Greyson wasn’t much older than me but still acted like he was in his twenties, constantly on the prowl.

Fia didn’t shy away, however. She placed a hand on my chest, leaning into me in a tender, subtle way that bled compassion, at least I thought so. “If anything, he’s stuck with me.”

“Huh, interesting.” Greyson’s gaze flicked to mine. “Webster, huh? Any relation to Colin Webster?”

“My brother.”

“Ah, that explains the familiarity.” Greyson glanced at me again as he sipped his whiskey. It was painfully obvious what he was doing—sizing me up. Deciding if he had a chance at getting between me and Fia and making a move. When his gaze dipped to the swell of her breasts, I cleared my throat, eyeing him coldly.

“Fia is my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend? Well, I’ll be damned. I didn’t think I’d live to see the day Mason O’Leary went public with anything other than his company.” He took a sip of his drink in emphasis, then saluted us. “I’ll be seeing you lovebirds around.”

“Sure.” I dipped my head in farewell, but Fia tugged on my arm as Greyson walked away, throwing another glance over his shoulder.

“Who was that? You’re so tense right now.” Her fingers curled into my flexed bicep in emphasis.

“No one of importance.” I turned her toward the bar. I’d expected to run into people I knew here. I’d been nodding my head in hello for an hour already, at least, but Greyson was the first to actually approach us, even if it was just to eye-bang my date. I wasn’t sure why it made my blood simmer to think of anyone even looking in Fia’s direction. That was why she was here in the first place. To make it look like I was in a committed relationship, that I would have a family and be able to pass my secret recipes down one day. That was what Heritage Spirits was built on.

What a farse.

I led her up to the bar. “Another champagne, or do you want something stronger?”

“I’m honestly not much of a drinker,” she replied, shrugging. “I like red wine, I suppose. Actually, what is that?” She pointed to a bright blue drink being served to an older woman who had to have been edging on ninety but could likely outdrink everyone in the ballroom.

“If you’re not much of a drinker, you definitely wouldn’t like that,” I said.

“I’m just a lightweight. If you’d had a circular table at your fancy shmancy Thanksgiving party, you would have seen me chugging water after every sip of those whiskey cocktails you were serving.”

I smiled, meeting her eyes. “You really hate whiskey, don’t you? I hate to break it you, d arling , but that’s why you have a black card in your purse right now.”

She feigned astonishment. “And I thought you were part of the mafia. I only date mob bosses, Mason, I don’t think this is going to work?—”

“One whiskey straight and one Icicle Dream, sugar on the rim please.” I slid a hundred-dollar bill into the tip jar, and the mixologist nodded in thanks.

“Icicle Dream, really?” Fia chuckled, rolling her eyes as I handed her the electric blue cocktail. “You’re going to have to carry me home. What is it made of?”

“Heritage Spirits vodka and some other things I’m not entirely sure of.”

She took a sip, winced like it went straight to her head, and blinked a few times. “Whew, that’s strong.”

I smiled. “I told you. Here, try this instead.”

She wrinkled her nose at my glass of whiskey but eventually took the sip I offered. I immediately led her out to the balcony for some fresh air. We stood close to each other to fight the chill, but the raised conversation and overall thrum of noise from the ballroom faded, replaced by nothing but glimmering city lights.

“Can I ask you something?” she asked, her arm brushing against mine.

I set my glass on the railing and shrugged out of my suit jacket, draping it over her shoulders to keep the wind at bay. “Yeah, go ahead.”

Her dark eyes met mine, and her smile softened, the corners of her mouth edging downward. “Why are you doing this? A guy like you could easily have a real date to these things. Someone fancy who could bid on her own at this auction and who already knows all these people.”

I’d momentarily forgotten this wasn’t a real date. I couldn’t let that happen anymore, but looking into her eyes, it was easy to lose myself in the fantasy that she was all mine.

“I thought I saw you guys come out here.” Colin’s voice rang through the air behind us. We whirled, taken off guard by his sudden arrival. “Oh, is that the Icicle Dream? Let me try a sip, Fia.”