I stood by Emma, who leaned in and whispered that she liked the powerful-looking guy. Jane had scoped his more approachable friend out and said he had a girlfriend, so that just left Mr. Powerful to interrogate.
I finished my Long Island and like a gal on a mission and decided to go get Emma her man.
“Hey,” I said, as I approached him. I had squeezed in between him and Jane, but Jane was now talking to someone at the next table.
“Hey there,” he said. His voice was as strong as him.
“I’m Amelia.” I smiled.
I giggled at him saying his full name. All powerful men seemed to do it. As though it would jog my memory, and I would know who he was. Egocentric pillock!
“I’m not American,” I bleated. Okay, I was a bit nervous around him.
Even though he wasn’t my type in any way, I found myself strangely attracted to something about him. The mixed drinks didn’t hide the fact that I felt on edge being so close to him.
“Yeah, I guessed,” he replied in a sarcastic tone.
“What…why? Don’t I look American?”
What was he saying?
“Not really.” His confident gaze stayed on me while I shyly looked away.
“Well, there’s no denying you’re a New Yorker,” I added, meaning his arrogance gave him away.
Then I was back to looking into his dark intent eyes. His guy lashes were amazing. “Do you work on Wall Street? I bet you work in investment banking.”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “I’m a lawyer.”
“Ha,” I laughed. “Lawyers, the purveyors of justice and fairness… Provided you have a lot of cash.”
He smirked at me and nodded his head. “Got it in one.”
“Well, I read that in a meme. You look like a pretty scary lawyer to be up against.”
A fucking meme, Amelia?
“You don’t get to be the best by being a pushover.”
“Very true,” I agreed and before I had time to think, it fell out of my mouth: “Are you single?”
He looked shocked by my direct question and laughed out loud. “I might be.”
“Why?” I asked sharply. “…I mean, a good-looking guy like you, why are you single? What’s your flaw?”
I bet it’s his arsehole nature!
He laughed again and the laugh lines made him look even hotter. “I guess I just haven’t met the right woman yet.”
Yep, it’s his arrogance!
“Well, that might all change tonight,” I said, raising my eyebrows at him. It was more in a comical way than a seductive one.
“I like your honesty and your…confidence.”
Someone handed me another Long Island and I took a sip while continuing to stare Mr. Power out, my eyes narrowed into his as the standoff became awkward.
Then it hit me. “Oh, nooo not me,” I said with a nervous laugh—Oh ~my God, did he really think I would say something like that about myself? I would never be so confident and upfront!~
I started to explain. “My friend Emma over there.” Where was she? She had moved. I looked around the place frantically and finally spotted her by the bar with his friend.
I was fumbling now.
“Her with your friend, she’s single and on the lookout for a nice man.”
He looked around at Emma with his friend. “She seems nice, but I like you better.”
He took my free hand and held it in his as he bit his bottom lip. I nervously took another sip out of the drink I was holding with my free hand.
“But I said I would find her a nice guy,” I continued, filling the silence.
“Are you single?” he asked, ignoring my comment.
I nodded while still drinking through the cream-and-white striped straw. He was still holding my free hand, and I didn’t want to shake him off.
I would’ve loved to spend one night with a man like him, but that wasn’t my thing. I wasn’t into one-night stands and I knew once I had no alcohol in me, I would be terrified by such a powerfully strong man.
Imagine waking up in his bed the next day, sober and a mess! I bet he had a huge apartment. I could just imagine his cleaner coming in to change the sheets with me still in his bed like something out of Sex and the City.
He leaned in closer and said something into my ear. I didn’t hear what he said as his breath on the side of my face made me shiver and giggle. He drew back in and did it again. “Do you live here in New York?” he asked.
“Yes,” I finally replied, after giggling like a crushing schoolgirl.
“I work at a shop in town,” I lied. I didn’t want to tell him I was a psychologist. As if he would even believe me with my fumbling behavior so far.
The others returned to the table and Jane placed a cocktail tree in the middle of us. “Courtesy of Blake.” His friend laughed. Blake smiled and took it on the chin.
“Well, I better have one then,” he said as he took two and placed one in front of me.
“Cheers,” he clinked my glass.
“Harrington,” he corrected.
Oops, I was definitely over my drinks limit. I felt like I was back in school being corrected when I got the teacher’s name wrong.
Although that was Mr. Bumhull I constantly called Bumhole. Thinking about it now, I would have also been pissed at myself. He thought it was on purpose, but it really was always a genuine mistake!
Anyway, I wasn’t drunk then. I just had a lot on my mind. I had this rule of six drinks maximum and no mixing. My not-so-small-in-New-York size twelve frame could just about handle six if not mixing, and a few less if so.
I had lost count of how many I had consumed now, but I knew I’d had two before I even left the apartment, and I had definitely been mixing, so I was well beyond the safe zone.
I had set this rule after careful evidence-gathering following drunken nights out. See, I had it all figured out.
Six drinks, non-mixed, allowed me to remain in control. Throw in six-plus mixed drinks, and I started to take it as my personal duty to go around informing people they were twats!
I wasn’t quite at that stage yet. I knew what I was saying but I definitely thought I was cooler and funnier than I was.
A few more drinks down, and I shuffled between Blake’s legs as he sat on a tall stool, my hand brushing his thigh as we talked.
He leaned into me when he laughed, and I could feel his warm aura wrapped around me as we invaded each other’s personal space. His friend was telling us stories of the two of them and we were all laughing.
“Blake can also play the piano like Beethoven,” his friend was saying. There was a piano by the bar, and Jane was daring him to play.
“Go on, Blakey,” I pleaded. His friend laughed at my nickname.
“Blakey, go ahead, man. Show the ladies what you’re made of,” his friend shouted as he continued to laugh.
“No! Move on. I’m not playing the piano here,” he refused. His hands wandered around my waist and the feel of him close made me gasp for air.
After more stories, his friend started to put his jacket on. “Well, Blakey, I’ve had a ball, but I think it’s time I left,” he said. He walked over to us and gave Blake one of those half-man hugs with just one shoulder and a hand.
Blake shouted after him. “See you tomorrow for trial prep. Early.”
I turned into Blake’s chest. “I think I’ve had too much to drink too. I’m going to have to head off shortly.”
He smelled like an expensive shop! He rubbed his hands up and down my arms, which rested beside me.
“Come to my place. I live across the street.”
I smirked. “What, in the retirement home over there?”
“Ha ha,” he laughed. “Is that what’s wrong? You think I’m too old for you?”
“How old are you?” I asked.
“Thirty-four. How old are you?”
“Twenty-nine but eighteen at heart. You’re definitely too old,” I laughed.
“I can see that,” he smiled, eyeballing my drink choice. “Well, if I can’t tempt you to come with me, can I give you my number?”
“My God, woman! Why do people normally swap numbers? I like you.”
“If we weren’t drunk, we wouldn’t even be speaking to each other, you’re so—”
“I’m so what?” he cut in sharply, his dark eyes on me again.
“I don’t know, you’re so powerful. I can see just from looking at you you’re a terrifying lawyer. I bet you live in one of those penthouses with all glass windows and views. Believe me, I’m not your type.”
He laughed and hung his head. “You got me. Maybe I’ll see you again and prove you wrong.”
I found it hard to believe this guy was flirting with me! Was there a wager on him getting me back to his?
“Maybe,” I replied, and he cheekily stole a kiss from my lips.
As his lips met mine, I felt something between us. It was like electricity running from his body into mine, there was something strangely odd about it.
It felt nice, and I wanted more, but I couldn’t go back on what had just been said. Before I could say anything else, he stood up and started to put his suit jacket on, which had been hanging on the back of his chair.
“Get home safe, ladies,” he said as he gave me a wink and turned to walk out of the bar.
“What the fuck just happened there?” Jane shrieked, as she took his place next to me.
I shrugged. “I don’t know, but if I wasn’t me, I would say I just met the man of my dreams.”
I watched him intently as he walked out of the bar.
“What the fuck is wrong with you girl? You missed your shot there.”
“I don’t know,” I replied. “I couldn’t be with someone like that. Come on, me, imagine. He would eat me alive.”
“Girl, you could so handle that! You put yourself down too much. He was begging for it and you, my girl, just rejected him!”
Maybe Jane was right, I had been putting myself down a lot. Blake had called me gorgeous, but I blamed his beer goggles. I really couldn’t accept a compliment these days.
I never had issues with my body. People always commented on my figure. Even though in New York I was on the larger side at a size twelve, I was happy with my booty and boobs.
My dark hair that just passed my shoulders was in good nick and my blue eyes, well, I thought, were my best features. Problem was, I never quite knew if I had low self-worth or a realistic view of myself!
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