Hugo didn’t even want to think about the Bleeding-Heart Ball, Bailey’s in-your-face name for the annual Valentine’s Night fete she’d created as part of her year-long calendar of events sponsored by Prince’s. Last year he’d escorted a woman he’d been dating for four months and she had gotten the impression the invitation was a prelude to a proposal. The evening had not ended well.
“You’re scowling,” Bailey said as she saw his expression darkening. “Don’t you like the idea?”
It’s going to play hell with the traffic flow on the floor.”
‘I’ve already got a flow-chart prepared.”
Of course, you do, he thought.
“That’s a lot of extra people coming into the store. Security is no...
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