Page 20 of Rush

“Cooper Witney, is that you?” Philippa gushes. “I haven’t seen you since graduation. How have you been?”

“Great. You know how it is—getting into the family business and all. I read your feature inFortunerecently about that three-hundred-million-dollar property acquisition.Daddymust beproud,” he remarks, though I can’t help but notice him sneaking glances my way.

She laughs, and they talk shop.

I turn away from them and grab the freshly made cosmo.

“You doing okay?” Riley asks, taking a long sip of her drink.

I nod.

“Well, looks like you caught someone’s eye,” she says playfully.

“Oh, that’s my sister,” I hear Philippa say behind me.

Shit.

“Elena,” she adds. “This is Cooper. We graduated from Columbia together.”

Philippa grins from ear to ear, and I can see the twinkle in her eyes. She doesn’t have to say what she’s thinking—her face is practically a billboard for it:Hot boy. Here you go. Have some fun.

He reaches out a hand. “Cooper. You’re Elena Montgomery, right?”

“Yes. Do we know each other?” I ask, placing my hand in his. He clasps his other hand over mine, effectively trapping it in place.

It’s nice, I guess.

“I’m sorry, that’s presumptuous of me,” he says quickly. “I saw you onRise and Shine America.I gotta say, you’re pretty awesome—can I get an autograph?”

“Thank you—I’ll think about it,” I tease, a blush creeping up my cheeks. When I take my hand back, there’s a flicker of resistance before he finally lets go.

“Playing hard to get. That’s cool. I’ll earn it. So—do you ladies want to join us? We’ve got a table just over there.” He points, his megawatt grin on full display.

“Sounds great. Lead the way,” Philippa says.

What?

Ugh.

“Come on, play nice,” Riley says, dragging me behind her. “Maybe you can have some fun—and play with Cooper.” She nudges me.

Fun.

The idea makes me want to throw myself down a flight of stairs. The last thing I need right now is another complication in my life.

He leads us to a U-shaped booth with a low table in the center—dimly lit, buzzing with the energy of the four other guys already seated there. Bottles glint like jewels, and someone’s ordered another round. Cooper introduces us to the others—all polite, well-mannered enough.

I take a sip, the sweet burn of cranberry and vodka loosens the knot in my chest.

Cooper slides in beside Philippa, his laugh smooth, practiced. He’s charming in that polished, Upper East Side way—expensive suit, perfect hair, the kind of man who’s been toldyeshis whole life. I try not to look at him, but he’s dialed it up a notch—his eyes, his grin, the way he keeps angling himself toward me.

The DJ shifts gears—”SexyBack” by Justin Timberlakefloods the room, bass vibrating through the floor. Riley yanks my hand, grinning like a maniac.

“Ilovethis song—let’s dance!”

I laugh—half protest, half surrender—and let her drag me onto the floor. The music pulses through my heels. Neon lights wash over us in pinks and purples as bodies press and move. Riley’s carefree—hair swinging, shouting lyrics at the top of her lungs.

This is what your twenties are supposed to be—throwing your head back and having a good time. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.