chapter 20

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Thanks to a traffic jam on Broadway, we arrive at the party ten minutes late. Hundreds of guests have already entered the ballroom, creating clusters of gatherings throughout the grandiose space. There's a stage to my right, a table with James' book cover hanging on a sign behind it to my left, and a bar directly across the room.

I expect Harry to beeline it to the bar, but he surprises me by sticking by my side, leaning down to ask, "Which one is David?"

I scan the crowded room, spotting Johnson Publishing's president schmoozing with a few of the company's most prestigious authors. James is only a few feet away, talking amongst his own circle. After a few seconds, I spot David in the corner.

"There." I point across the room. "The one with the million-dollar head of hair and pinstriped suit." He looks handsome tonight. Too bad the insides don't correspond with the outside. The woman clinging to him like a vine doesn't seem to know that.

"And the chick on his arm?"

"Not sure. Maybe Hayley."

"The one whose book you hated?"

"I didn't hate it. I just had a couple of suggestions."

"That required an entire re-write. She's going to love you."

I jab him in the side with my elbow. "Shut up."

Harry snickers, sweeping his head back to observe the couple once again. "What's happening with her face?" He scrunches his in revulsion. "She looks like she's about to shit a rainbow."

I cock my head to the side, studying the woman who can't seem to take her eyes off my boss. There's a steady, effervescent glow gleaming from her that has me dumbfounded. Nobody should look at my boss that way. Ever. "I think that's happiness."

"That's where I've seen that look before." He grabs my wrist, swiveling my body around to face him. "It's always on your face after we have sex."

I reach up to tap him on the nose. "I've caught that look on your face a few times, too."

"Have you?" he says, dipping so his lips can descend on mine. "Is it there now?"

"Iris."

I pull back and twirl around to see David approaching through the crowd. James White is mere steps behind him.

When he's close enough to speak without shouting, he clips, "Where have you been?"

"Sorry." I step away from Harry, supplying visual space between us. "There was a back-up on Broadway. I got here as quickly as I could."

David opens his mouth and the rigid set of his jaw assures me I'm in for a bit of scolding when James reaches his side. My boss immediately relaxes his face, slipping on a fake grin.

"James, I'd like you to meet my assistant, Iris Brown."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Iris."

James nods in greeting and the first thing I notice is he has a kind face. I've seen his headshot before, but in person, traits come to life. His sandy hair is peppered in grey, but the crinkles around his eyes and the dimples punched at the tips of his smile give him a youthful aura. It has me returning his warmth.

"The pleasure's all mine."

"Iris will be assisting you this evening," David says. "If you need anything—a refill on your drink, an hors d'oeuvre from the table, a new pen with fresh ink—she'll take care of it."

I inwardly groan. Of course this is why I'm here. Nothing says 'You're my bitch' like being a servant for the guest of honor. Giving David a curt nod instead of the bird, I focus my attention on James.

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