Hardwired(46)

“You would know, I suppose?” My teeth gritted with restraint. This woman definitely had a dark side, devious almost. I barely recognized her the moment Alli left us, and just as quickly, her expression changed again when we were joined by a young man holding out two glasses of red wine.

“You two look entirely too sober for this event,” he said, his eyes lighting up with humor.

“Darling,” Sophia purred, taking her glass from him and air kissing him from cheek to cheek.

I took the glass of wine he offered with no care of its origin or vintage. This bitch was winding me up.

“Isaac. This is Erica Hathaway. She runs a fashion website. The details escape me,” Sophia said with a careless wave. “Would you two excuse me? I am running late for another engagement. It was delightful to meet you, Erica. Please stay in touch?”

I forced a smile and reached out to shake her hand. I reveled a bit at the opportunity to crush it. She winced at the contact. For being so imposing in height, she was a wet noodle when it came to handshakes.

“I’m Isaac Perry,” he said as soon as she left, giving me a heart-stopping smile.

“What brings you here tonight, Isaac?” I asked with blithe interest.

“The art, I suppose. Definitely not the people, though I have to say I’m rather interested in you.” He grinned.

Not only was Isaac in a great mood, he wasn’t hard on the eyes. Tall and lean, with pale blue eyes and a mop of sandy blond hair, he was dressed in black slacks and a V-neck sweater. His entire persona came across as casual and boyish, making him seem less pretentious than most of the people around us.

“And what do you think of the art?” I asked, skipping right over the bait he offered for me to talk about myself. I was already strung too tight missing Blake. I couldn’t quite handle meaningless flirting at this point.

Isaac breathed out a whistle and stared at the piece in front of us. “I think I like it, which is good since we’ll be doing a write up on it.”

“Are you a writer?”

“Publisher. I own Perry Media Group.”

I recognized the name, which had somehow penetrated my tech bubble somewhere over the course of my time at school. The write-up he spoke of could belong to any number of quality international publications. I coughed a little on my last sip of wine and caught him smirk as he surveyed the room.

“Tell me more about what you do. I have to admit, I don’t know as much as I should about the social space these days, but it’s fascinating isn’t it?”

“It is,” I agreed. “There’s nothing quite like it. I’m sure publishing moves quickly, but technology sort of blows your hair back sometimes. It’s a challenge to stay current, but that’s what I really love about it.”

“You’re so young to be doing this.”

He was buttering me up, but coming off of my time with Sophia, I couldn’t argue with some praise and thoughtful appreciation.

“I guess so.”

“On top of being a woman, that seems rare.”

“That’s true. I guess I’m a bit of an endangered species in the high tech department.” I would have enjoyed having a peer group with a little more gender diversity, but I figured that would change eventually, all in good time.

“I’m on the flip side. In publishing, I’m surrounded by women. They’re just so damn good at it.”

He was officially enchanting, though I couldn’t imagine why on earth he would be seen air kissing people like the diabolical Sophia.

“You must be tapped into the fashion bloggers in the city then?” he said.

“Not really, no.”

“Oh wow, you should be. They’re like the grass roots effort that gets all of the cream rising to the top. If you can get into their good graces, you’ll be everywhere.”

“I’ll definitely look into it. Thanks for the tip,” I said, clinking our plastic glasses together, my jovial mood beginning to match his. I wasn’t sure if it was the wine or just his sheer force of positive energy, but I felt better than I had all day.

“What are you doing for dinner Saturday?” he asked. His voice was markedly lower.

I chilled at the suggestive tone. I didn’t want to be wanted, but he didn’t know that yet. “I’m sorry, I can’t—”

“Brunch on Sunday then. I’d love to learn more about your business. Maybe we can figure out a way to work together.”

I hesitated. The publisher of Perry Media Group wanted to discuss working together. I couldn’t turn that down, no matter how he was looking at me. Dinner meant too much, implied too much, but brunch I could do.