Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 103030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
“Have you said hello to Tyra?” Curt asks. “She wasn’t with me last year. I believe she was in Switzerland with our granddaughter Carys. She’s here this year, and I know she’d love to see you.”
I lift my chin, taking a deep breath to settle myself. Maybe having a woman in the conversation will stabilize things?
I prepare to take a step toward the table that Curt motions toward when Oliver turns around.
“I’m going to say hello to Curt’s wife. I’ll be right back.” His face is free from emotion, but his eyes tell another story. It’s just not one I can read.
“I’ll be fine. I’ll be … here.”
My heart pounds as he walks with Curt toward a table with three gorgeous women. Their heads all snap to Oliver, their faces awash in delight at the opportunity to score his attention.
I don’t realize Marius is still standing next to me until he chuckles.
“Excuse me?” I ask, not sure what I missed to warrant a chuckle.
“Oliver—your boss,” he says pointedly. “I think I’ve seen him with a different woman at every social engagement.”
“Oh.”
My brain races. Logic tells me that I didn’t know him at any of those social engagements, so why do I care? I was with Luca—married to Luca. I can’t, shouldn’t, feel any sort of way about Oliver’s acquaintances.
Still, my gaze falls to his broad back and the way the ladies at the table laugh at something he says.
“Yes, Shaye is my executive assistant.”
My spirits tumble.
“I don’t suppose he can help himself,” Marius says. “He’s a hell of a guy.”
“He seems to be, yes.”
I take a sip of champagne to keep myself from saying anything else.
“Have you worked for him long?” he asks.
I sigh softly. “No. Not too long. We are just getting to know each other.”
A woman with long, blond hair places her hand on Oliver’s wrist. My breath hiccups in my chest as I pull my gaze from their interaction. It lands on a smiling Marius.
“I’m sure you’ll like him. He’s a nice guy.” He swishes his champagne around in the flute as he watches me.
I steady myself the best I can.
Too many things stream around me, carrying me in an invisible current before I get swept away in another line of thought. Oliver’s kiss tonight. The way he alluded to something more after the gala. How he cooled off after the Landrys left us and then the awkwardness of meeting Curt and Marius.
And now … this. I glance over at Oliver. He’s standing next to Curt and a woman in a long, brilliant red dress cut into a sharp V in the front.
I gulp.
Maybe it’s the champagne. I place my glass on a passing server’s tray and thank them. Marius sets his next to mine.
The music transitions into something lighter and jazzier.
“Would you care to dance?” Marius asks.
“Dance?”
I trip over words in my head as if they’re steps in a dark hallway. My mouth hangs open, but none of them—the right nor the wrong ones—slip out. Instead, I stand in front of Marius Blast and look like a fool.
Thankfully, he doesn’t make it awkward. “Yes, dance,” he says with a big smile. “It’s what people do at galas.”
“Couples do, I’m sure,” I say.
“Yes, definitely couples. But I’m here alone, and you are here with your boss who,” he says, leaning closer and whispering conspiratorially, “is having a conversation with two women on the other side of the room.”
“And I’m having a conversation here with you.”
“And we could be having this conversation while dancing.”
“We could …” I turn my whole body as if I’m taking in the room when, in fact, I want to see what Oliver is doing. Curt is standing to his right with the woman in the red dress. On Oliver’s right side—where I should be—is a bombshell.
Emerald-green dress and a stunning diamond choker. Her hair is long and red, and if she hasn’t walked a runway at some point in her life, I’ll be damned. A man with a large camera faces them, snapping their picture. Perhaps he recognizes Oliver’s … friend. Maybe she came with him last time. Or the time before that. And I bet her dress is brand-spanking new, straight off a designer rack.
I look down at my borrowed gown from Lisbeth. I felt like a princess before. My thumb strokes the bracelet from my grandmother. I’m going to turn into a pumpkin well before midnight if I don’t watch it. I say a silent wish that I knew how to navigate these sorts of things.
I’m so out of my element. I don’t know if I’m supposed to stand here and wait for Oliver because I’m his date or if I’m supposed to mingle and represent his company as well.
What is perfectly clear is that I must look like a fool to anyone watching—certainly to Marius. Surely, anyone paying a shred of attention would see that I feel self-conscious. Edgy. Embarrassed.