Played: Manhattan Ruthless - 57

I fidget with my bow tie, trying to get it to sit just right. I hate these things, and with good reason—they’re ridiculous and pointless. The exception to that rule walks up behind me, his eyes on mine in the mirror. Of course his bow tie is perfect, and he looks fucking incredible.

Accepting defeat, I drop my hands and let the tie hang in a loose half-knot around my neck.

“Everything okay?” Mason asks.

“I hate tying these things,” I huff.

A small smile plays on his lips. “So don’t wear one, babe.” He reaches around my neck from behind and unfastens the mess I’ve made. “Or better still, wear it like this.” He leaves the two ends hanging loose and unfastens the top button of my dress shirt. “Looks good on you.”

I study my reflection. He’s right, it does look good. And it’s infinitely more comfortable. “But it’s black tie.”

He skims his nose across the back of my neck. “And you’re wearing a black tie.”

Technically, yes, but I’m sure this isn’t what the fancy invite meant when it specified the dress code. The gala dinner event is hosted by Amber’s charity, and I’ve had nothing but pleasant interactions with the woman, but I know better than to get on the wrong side of her. Especially as this night represents so much more than a party for Mason and me. I want everything to go perfectly.

Aware of my unease, he wraps his arms around my waist and rests his chin on my shoulder.

“Relax, King. It’s our party, and we can wear whatever the hell we like.”

“It’s your family’s party,” I remind him.

He smiles at me in the mirror. “And you’re a James now, in all but name.”

I answer without thinking. “I like your name.”

“You can have it, mi rey. All you have to do is ask.” He kisses my neck, and a shiver of excitement runs up my spine. “Are you sure you’re not nervous about tonight for another reason?”

“I’m not nervous, Mase. I just don’t like bow ties.” I sound a little too defensive for the first part of that statement to be true.

“We don’t have to do this tonight, babe. We don’t have to do this so publicly.”

I swallow down my anxiety. It was my idea that we arrive at the event together. An idea that came to me during one of my therapy sessions. Me, in therapy! I was skeptical and certain I would never go back leading up to my first session, but I now go once a week. It’s unbelievable how much progress I’ve made processing and reshaping the fucked-up thought patterns I carry from my upbringing.

Tonight’s event will be attended by celebrities from all walks of life, and there’ll be press everywhere, which is great for Amber’s charity. It’s also the perfect way to rip off the Band-Aid and let the entire world know Mason and I are together. At least it seemed like a good idea when I first suggested it to him.

“I could arrange for a pap I know to snap us in the park or something instead. Make it look natural, you know? We could borrow a dog from Mel’s shelter for the day. How fucking adorable would that be? You’d look so fucking cute with a little beagle or something. They need dog walkers, you know? Hey, maybe we should adopt a dog. I’ve always wanted a dog—how about you?”

My anxiety level aside, I can’t help but smile. It’s obvious that I am not the only one feeling a little nervous about tonight. I turn around and slide my hands inside his tux jacket. “You are fucking adorable when you’re nervous, baby.”

He gives me a sheepish grin that only makes him look sexier. “Who said I’m nervous? Maybe I’m excited about our fictional dog.”

I press a kiss on his lips. “What are we going to call her?”

“Call her? So we are getting a dog?”

His eyes shine with excitement, and I have to stop myself from telling him that we can get any number of dogs, cats, hamsters, goldfish, or whatever the hell else he wants. Anything to make him happy and put that look on his face. “I don’t see why not.”

His phone rings, and he looks at the screen and says he has to take it. “The tie looks great,” he adds. “But if you’d rather go without, that’s fine too.” He gives me another quick kiss and answers the call.

Half studying my reflection and half watching him talk to Elijah on the phone, I decide to leave the tie as he arranged it. Sometimes I can hardly believe he’s mine. I’m pretty sure he was teasing me about having his name, but what if …?

These past three months have been full of change for me. While tonight will be the first time we officially announce ourselves to the world as a couple, we go out on dates at least twice a week, and every time we bump into a friend of his, a possessive thrill runs through me when he introduces me as his boyfriend. We’ve also been snapped by paparazzi a few times already, but my name has never been given, and it’s been nothing but speculation about whether New York’s most eligible bachelor has a new love interest.

It’s way too early to think about any bigger form of commitment than confirming our relationship in the media, but still I find myself wondering what it would be like to call him my husband. I spent eighteen years of my life without him in it, and I’ve never been as sure about anything as I am about the fact that I want to spend the rest of my life with Mason James.

He’s everything to me, and I want to share everything with him. Including his name.

“You okay?” Mason asks, looking pointedly at where I keep fastening and unfastening my left cuff link.

I turn my attention from checking out the limo to a more impressive sight. Nobody has ever filled out a tux better than Mason James. “Yeah. I was just thinking I’ve never had sex in a limo.”

His laugh is deep and sexy. “How about we save that for the way home, Hotshot? We’re almost there.”

Less than five minutes later, the car rolls to a stop outside the event venue. A glance through the tinted windows confirms my suspicion—this event is a huge fucking deal. There’s a red carpet, a horde of paparazzi, as well as a crowd of onlookers hoping to catch sight of a celebrity. A James charity gala is as big of a deal as a movie premiere.

All the moisture in my mouth evaporates. No, that’s not true. It somehow travels straight to my palms.

“You sure about this, mi rey?” Mason’s voice is soft and reassuring. If I asked him to, he’d tell the driver to get us out of here. And that’s enough for me.

I give a firm nod. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

He presses his lips against mine. “Then let’s go hold hands in public, babe.”

Happiness lights up my insides. This moment is long overdue. It’s been twenty years since I saw him sitting in that booth at Nero’s pizzeria. Twenty years since he first knocked me on my ass with that smile. I wish I’d had the courage to hold his hand in public back then. I should have shown the entire world he was mine two decades ago.

The door opens, and the sound of the crowd is almost deafening.

Mason laughs, totally unfazed by the attention we’re about to be in the center of. “Wow, Amber knows how to throw an event, huh?”

I take Mason’s hand in mine and climb out of the car. A flash of lights blinds me, and some people in the crowd shout his name. But I lace my fingers with his, and we stand together, and then I do what I should have done all those years ago: I kiss the man I love, and I don’t give a single fuck who sees us.