Afterburn & Aftershock: Afterburn / Aftershock. Sylvia Day

painfully obvious to me that I was still in love with him. And now, he was becoming aware of it, too.

      I’d learned my lesson the first time, and he’d confirmed it—our relationship had to end at some point. No do-overs.

      I slid the article from Full-Service Restaurant across her desk. “A tiny mention of Pembry supporting and contributing to Rutledge campaigns in a bigger piece on restaurateurs and politics.”

      “Hmm.” Her astute gaze lifted to meet mine. “I lived with Ian for five years. He never once voted in any election. And he’s too much of a tight-ass to spend the kind of money it takes to get the Rutledges’ personal attention.”

      Lei leaned back, twisting her chair side to side. “That said,” she went on, “I can’t see a venture capitalist taking an interest in Ian’s business over mine without some personal motivation. It doesn’t make fiscal sense.”

      Lifting my hands, I admitted, “I don’t get it, either.”

      “Would Jackson tell you what sparked his interest in Ian if you asked him?”

      “Maybe.” I took a seat in front of her desk. “But he’s not the deciding factor here. Stacy prefers Ian. Chad prefers us. We’ve got a grip on this.”

      “Aren’t you curious?”

      “Not enough to go out of my way to talk to him. He’s starting to realize I took our fling more seriously than I should have and that’s...awkward.”

      Lei’s gaze was warm with sympathy. “I guess the best solution is to get this wrapped up. I’m talking with the team at Mondego today about moving forward with just Chad. They’re not as excited—no surprise there—but I think I have an appealing alternative.”

      I leaned forward, and she smiled at my eagerness.

      “These two.” She swiveled her monitor around to face me, revealing two very different women. One darkly exotic, the other a fresh-faced blonde. “I’ve been keeping my eye on them for a few months now. Isabelle, the brunette, specializes in regional Italian, while Inez, the blonde, has a flair for regional French.”

      A soft laugh bubbled up. “Dueling kitchens international.”

      “More work to get the menu right, but when you can’t deliver two, up the ante to three.”

      “Awesome.”

      Lei rubbed her hands together. “With any luck, we’ll still be cracking open bottles of bubbly.”

      I heard my desk phone ringing through the open door and stood.

      She pushed her phone over to me. “You can get that here.”

      Picking up the receiver, I hit the button for my line and answered.

      “Miss Rossi, Ian Pembry. Good morning.”

      I raised my brows and mouthed Ian to Lei. Her mouth curved.

      “Good morning, Mr. Pembry. I was just thinking about you.”

      “I was waiting for you to call, then I got impatient.” The warm amusement in his voice hit me the way I suspected it hit most women. There was no doubt about it; he had a great bedroom voice.

      “Would you be available for lunch sometime?” I asked, shooting a look at Lei to make sure she’d be okay with it. She nodded.

      “I’m flattered you’d choose me over Jackson,” he said, putting my back up. “But I was hoping for dinner instead. I have an engagement tonight and I need a date.”

      Reaching over, I hit the speaker button. “What about Stacy?”

      “She’s wonderful, of course, but I’d prefer to take you. You’ll want to come along, Lei,” he posited, addressing her directly, “and look out for your girl, which is fine. The more the merrier. It’s a formal event. Be at the Midtown heliport by six.”

      Lei grinned, clearly enjoying the exchange although she didn’t reply.

      “You’re assuming I don’t have plans on a Friday night,” I said.

      “Don’t be offended, Miss Rossi.” He sounded amused. “It’s a compliment on your dedication. Lei wouldn’t have hired you if you didn’t put the job first. See you tonight.”

      The line clicked off, and I set the receiver back in the cradle. “Well...what do you think?”

      “I think we need to go shopping.”

      When I returned to my desk, I found a package waiting.

      I ripped into the brown paper wrapping and discovered a foiled box of chocolates inside. The surge of desire that pierced me at the sight of that particular brand—Neuhaus—and the memories it evoked quickened my breathing. My skin heated.

      I’d had the Belgian truffles only once before, when I’d sucked them off the tips of Jax’s fingers. He’d melted them with the heat of his touch...then painted words over my body that he’d licked off with wicked lashes of his tongue.

      Sexy Gia. Sweet. And my favorite—mine.

      My thighs clenched, and I crossed my ankles, my core tightening in greedy demand. My body didn’t care that he’d dumped me without a word. It wanted Jax. Desperately.

      The note attached was simple and unsigned.

      I’d know you blindfolded.

      I couldn’t tell you where Lei took us to buy gowns. It was a small, unmarked storefront that had a permanent Closed sign on the door. Appointments only. The moment Lei’s town car pulled up out front, we were ushered inside a showroom of quiet luxury and served champagne with ripe strawberries. There were no price tags in evidence anywhere.

      The next hour passed in a blur of silks and taffetas. I was dazzled.

      There had been times working with Lei that I had been exposed to a world far beyond anything I knew. I always struggled to hide my wide-eyed awe on such occasions, striving to take my cues from Lei, who seemed so natural and at ease. I had to remind myself that her background wasn’t so different from mine. She’d acquired polish over the years and so could I.

      I was eyeing a black gown with lace cap sleeves when Lei set her hand on my shoulder.

      “That’s too old for you,” she said.

      I glanced at her. “I think it looks understated and elegant.”

      “It does, for a woman my age. You’re twenty-five. Enjoy it.”

      “I have to be careful,” I explained. My boss was slender as a reed, graceful and lithe. I was too curvy. “My boobs are too big. And so is my butt.”

      “You’re sexy,” she asserted bluntly. “You play it down at work, which I understand and appreciate, but don’t waste it. It’s a terrible myth that a successful woman can’t be sexy without it ruining her credibility. Don’t buy into it.”

      I caught my lower lip between my teeth. Looking around the showroom, I was intimidated by the reek of wealth it exuded. I was out of my league. The walls were draped in billowing ivory silk, for Christ’s sake, instead of wallpaper. And the finger sandwiches they had just brought out were sitting on a platter I was positive was pure, heavy silver. “Can you help me? I’m afraid I’ll make the wrong choice.”

      “That’s what I’m here for, Gianna.” She gestured at one of the three women helping us. “Let’s see what you’ve got for young, beautiful and voluptuous.”

      * * *

      The whistles I got when I stepped out of my bedroom a few hours later both excited me and made me nervous. Denise had come home early to do my hair, bringing Pam, one of her stylists, with her to do my makeup. Angelo was sprawled across the couch watching stuff he’d recorded on the DVR, passing the time until his eight o’clock shift at Rossi’s.

      “Wow,”