Page 33 of Forbidden Boss (Manhattan Billionaires)

We were accosted within moments of entering. An older woman kissed Rome on both cheeks, then turned to me with a smile.

“And who do we have here? It’s not every day Rome Blakely brings a plus-one.”

“I’m only here for the canapés,” I quipped.

The woman laughed, the jewels dangling from her ears glittering in the warm light of the room. She wore a dark-purple dress that fit her like a glove.

“This is Nikita Jordan,” Rome said. “Nikita, meet Gloria Beck. We worked together on a successful campaign a couple of years ago for her company’s fantastic athleisure division. Gloria is also one of the best poker players you’ll ever meet.”

“Oh, stop it,” the older woman said, swatting at Rome. “Is he always this charming?”

“No,” I replied. “Mostly he scowls.”

She laughed again, shaking her head, then excused herself and floated to another acquaintance. Feeling Rome’s gaze on the side of my face, I turned to meet his gaze.

“Mostly I scowl?”

“You’re doing it right now.”

“No, I’m not.”

I popped open my bow-shaped clutch and pulled out my mirror, flicked it open, and held it up in front of him. Rome didn’t even blink. He didn’t look at the mirror. He just held my gaze for a long moment, until I had to bite my lips to hide my smile.

“I’m regretting this arrangement,” he told me, fingers curling around my elbow.

“You love this arrangement.”

“You’re a pest,” he said softly, but his hand tightened on my elbow, and he pulled me ever so slightly closer.

“I handled that exactly right. She was eating it up.”

“I should never have brought you here.”

I was hard up against him then, my chest brushing his, chin tilted up. Breathless, I said, “I don’t know why you insist on lying to yourself, Blakely.”

He opened his mouth to answer, but another voice interrupted us. Another former client stopped by, watching me curiously, and Rome shifted his hand from my elbow to my lower back. I felt unsteady on my heels during that interaction, all my attention focused on the fingers that traced the embroidery on my dress just above the curve of my ass.

I wasn’t sure this was exactly outlined in the company’s code of conduct, and I found that I didn’t care.

A waiter stopped by with a tray full of champagne, and I was glad to have something to do with my hands. I met lots of people that had been in Clara’s briefing document, and many more that weren’t.

Most of them oozed wealth. I felt like I wore a big neon sign proclaiming me an outsider, but all I could do was pretend it didn’t exist and fake it until they thought I belonged. I watched Rome navigate conversations like a shark slicing through water. He closed two business deals almost casually, and I wasn’t sure the other person even realized what had happened.

Then I felt pressure on my back a mere moment before he straightened beside me. “Wilbur,” he intoned, reaching out to shake the older man’s hand.

Wilbur Monk was a tall, broad man who clearly enjoyed the finer things in life, as evidenced by the large paunch hanging over his belt buckle and the wide, genial grin. In one hand, he expertly carried a glass of champagne and a little plate laden with canapés, leaving his other hand free to shake Rome’s. His skin was tan and slightly leathery, as if he enjoyed the sun and didn’t believe in sunblock. He had a wide smile and shrewd eyes that slid over to me the moment he dropped Rome’s hand.

“This is a surprise,” he said. “I’ve never seen Rome with such a beauty on his arm.”

“Or one so fabulously dressed,” his wife added. She walked up to our group, smiling, then put her hand around Monk’s elbow. She wore a simple black sequined dress, cut close to her body, that I suspected was custom. Her neck was adorned with a gigantic diamond pendant, her matching earrings completing the set. Not a hair was out of place, and her makeup was expertly applied. She would have been a beauty in her youth because she was still looking fantastic.

“You must be Roseanne,” I said, smiling. “I’m under strict instructions to make a good impression.”

Beside me, Rome stiffened, but Wilbur and his wife both threw their heads back and laughed.

“Sounds like Rome knows who’s really in charge here,” Wilbur said, winking at me.

“How did you two meet? I can’t believe Rome convinced someone to put up with him.” Roseanne’s lips stretched into a wide smile.

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