Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 83211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
He taps around on the screen and then looks up. “Very well. Enjoy your evening.”
“Thank you,” Banks says, ushering me into the dramatically decorated ballroom.
“Oh, wow,” I whisper, taking a moment to breathe in the beauty surrounding us.
The room is long and wide but still feels intimate. An over-the-top fireplace anchors the space at the far end, working with the stretched ceilings and tall windows to exude grandiosity in every way. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling. The light reflects off the glass and gives the space a warm, elegant ambiance. Decadence.
Beautiful people mill about, some gathering in small clusters with dark-colored drinks in their hands. Chatter floats around the room just above the quiet orchestra playing through speakers hidden somewhere amongst the decor. I can see why these tickets are so coveted. This is how the other half lives.
“Well, what do you think?” Banks asks.
“I think I feel out of place. Look at these people. Look at their jewelry and their gowns. It’s surreal.”
He takes my hand and turns me to face him. His eyes sparkle. “Imagine what every other woman must feel when they look at you. I’m surprised they don’t just go home.”
My heart melts when he gives me his shy smile.
“Sara, hello.” A woman in a glorious gold dress approaches us. She’s stunning with nude-colored lips and thick dark lashes. “I’m Jennifer McKay, Mr. Petterson’s assistant. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well. This is my fiancé, Banks Carmichael.”
Banks stands tall. “Thank you for having us tonight, Ms. McKay.”
“It’s Jennifer, please,” she says, smiling brightly at us both. “Mr. Petterson asked that I find you tonight and personally welcome you to the event. He’s very pleased you could come.”
“It was so kind of him to invite us. I’m honored, truly.”
“We do apologize for the snafu in getting your invitation to you.”
I grin. “Please, don’t apologize. I’m sorry you had to go through so much trouble to deliver it. I probably wouldn’t have.”
“Well, Mr. Petterson is one of the most respectable men in this industry. He believes in acknowledging hard work and dedication. You deserved to be here, and he wouldn’t let me go home until I found your personal email.”
She laughs, making Banks and I laugh along with her.
She clasps her hands in front of her. “I will let him know you’ve arrived. Please, enjoy yourselves. There are drinks and appetizers on the right.”
“Thank you, Jennifer,” I say.
With a final nod, she disappears into the throng of people.
Banks squeezes my hand. “You’ve impressed Myles Petterson. You’re obviously an amazing accounts rep, Sara.”
I smile. When was the last time someone simply praised my work ethic for what it is? For who I am?
“Let’s walk around a little bit and mingle. It’ll keep you from standing here and overthinking every word of that conversation.”
I laugh, letting him guide me through the room.
We acquire champagne from a friendly server named Ryan. He and Banks sparked a conversation about baseball that was both informative and entertaining. Typical Banks—making friends wherever he goes.
I sip my drink and watch him chatter away, easily charming a man who didn’t need to be charmed. I’m not sure Banks even meant to do it. But Ryan, our new friend, was a little anxious when he handed us our champagne, and Banks said something ridiculous to put him at ease. Now Ryan has been invited to Sunday dinner at Damaris’s.
I wonder how often that happens.
My gaze slides across the room, sweeping across architectural details that I add to my mental corkboard for future home ideas. But it all comes to a screeching halt when I land on a pair of dark eyes boring into me.
I turn casually like an annoyed, fiery pit didn’t just ignite in my stomach and slip my arm through Banks’s again. Not satisfied with that small amount of contact, he slips his arm behind me at my waist.
“Joshua is here,” I say once Ryan leaves.
He looks down at me. “I know.”
“How? I thought you didn’t know him.”
“It’s funny what you notice when you have a girl you care about.”
Slowly, my lips turn toward the ceiling. My insides are obliterated. I stare at him, unsure whether he’s kidding—playing the doting fiancé part—or if he’s serious.
Could he be serious?
I hold my breath and process the possibility. What would I feel like if he were?
Then it hits me like one of Banks’s awful jokes that has me bursting into a fit of laughter at two in the morning—it would feel a hell of a lot like this.
Adored. Protected. And so damn happy.
“When you have a girl you care about, huh?” I ask, turning in his arms so we’re facing one another. My heartbeat quickens. “What’s that mean?”
His grin is to die for. “It means that I care about you. A lot. And unless you’re completely oblivious, you already knew that.”