Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“ G ood evening, Mr. Frazier. You and your guest are seated at table one, sir.”
“Thank you,” Gavin said to the woman at the entry table.
Bean waited for the woman to acknowledge her—the “guest”—but nope. The other woman didn’t bother to look her way. Not even a glance. The lady only had eyes for Gavin.
Not that Bean could really blame her. The man did fill out a tux stupidly well. If Henry Cavill had a love child with Fight Club Brad Pitt, it would be Gavin. He exuded a confidence and an intensity that was breathtaking.
She pressed her lips together.
Whoa. Not that she thought of him that way, of course. She was simply stating a fact. It was unfair how good the man looked all prettied up. Not that he didn’t look just as good in jeans and a T-shirt, because he did. It’s just that?—
Stop.
She flinched when his hand settled at the small of her back and wanted to clobber herself .
Holy shit, focus!
“You good?” he asked, his voice low for only her to hear.
Clearing her throat, she nodded and straightened her shoulders. “Of course. Let’s do this.”
With his hand warm against her skin, they stepped into the ballroom. And she came to a halt.
“Holy wow,” she muttered on a sigh, taking in the opulence of the room. “This is ridiculous.”
Understatement. She’d been to a handful of charity events in her lifetime, but none like this. She’d only ever seen event decor like this in the society pages, usually linked to the uber uber wealthy, which she supposed these people were. Gold and crystal accents shimmered throughout the large ballroom. Instead of looking tacky, it was astonishing. Stunning. Like a freaking fancy fairy tale come to life.
“Stop messing with your sleeve,” Gavin said under his breath. “You look perfectly fine.”
She bit the inside of her cheek. She hadn’t realized she’d been fidgeting. Her left hand had a death grip on her red clutch, and the fingers of her right hand had been twisting the hem of her sleeve. Clearing her throat, she strove for a carefree and confident tone, though both were a lie. She was never carefree. And confident? Only when she was seated at a computer doing what she did best.
She put on a pleasant smile and glanced around at the other attendees. “I look perfectly fine? Yikes. Just what every woman wants to hear. You’ve got to work on your compliments, Frazier,” she said, her voice low and teasing.
Bean didn’t recognize anyone, which was a positive. Still, the event had “bad idea” written all over it. When it came down to it, she was a hacker. As pretty as her outfit was, she was way out of her depth.
Gavin dipped his head and spoke quietly into her ear. “ You know what I mean, B. Stop fidgeting. You’re high society tonight, remember?”
Right. She could do this, dammit.
With each step she took into the glitzy Four Seasons ballroom, the impeccably dressed women around her—with their opulent jewels, designer labels, and Botox—made her feel like a country bumpkin. Oh, wait...
Although reclusive former-big-city girl turned small-town bumpkin was probably a more apt description for her.
But not tonight.
Tonight, she was Sabrina Darcy. A high society friend of Gavin Frazier who was originally from San Francisco but now living the high life in London. And, yes, she’d gotten a crash course on the swanky who’s who of London from both MacKay and Esme.
Gavin squeezed her hip. “You good?”
She nodded. The smile on her face was both familiar and foreign. Growing up, she’d been stuck at numerous events like this during the few times she’d been allowed to come home from boarding school. She’d been decades younger than everyone in attendance, but she’d learned how to play the small-talk-with-fancy-people game. She’d hated every moment of it and wanted more than anything to be back in her dorm room, curled up on the couch watching movies or playing video games. But it wasn’t like she’d had a choice back then.
Gavin popped his elbow out, and she gladly clutched onto him. His solid arm grounded her, let her know that unlike when she was growing up, she wasn’t alone now.
Smile, nod, make polite conversation. It’s like riding a bike, Bean.
It had to be . Or else it was going to be a long, long night.
They made their way around the perimeter of the ballroom, nodding and smiling but not stopping. The plan was to do one full loop to assess the room, then stop for a drink to reevaluate. They were nearing the bar, and the tension in her shoulders was finally easing. Forget the fact that her grip on Gavin’s arm would probably leave a bruise. Thankfully, the man hadn’t made one single comment about it.
As they stepped into the line for the bar, a woman in Bean’s peripheral vision had her nearly stumbling.
No.
Her pulse kicked as the woman continued to make a beeline toward her.
It couldn’t be.
“Sabrina?” Gavin murmured, glancing down at her.
Turning toward the woman, Bean’s stomach dropped. The blood drained from her face, and she couldn’t stifle her gasp.
Holy. Shit.
Before she could process anything, Gavin’s solid body blocked the incoming woman. “B?” he whispered, leaning over her, his hands squeezing hers. “Talk to me. What’s?—”
“Florence Sabrina. I thought that was you.”
Bean turned to the woman who was now standing beside her and Gavin. She fought a shiver while goosebumps tore across her skin. Inhaling, she allowed that long-forgotten feeling of detachment to settle over her.
Straightening her spine, she donned a smile—not too big as to appear gauche, but not too small to appear rude—and air-kissed the other woman.
“Good evening,” Bean said, proud of how her voice was serene and steady. “It’s so lovely to see you.”
Huh. Would you look at that? It is like riding a damn bike.
Gavin wasn’t sure what the hell was going on, but the tension pulsing from Bean was at complete odds with the pleasant smile on her face.
He didn’t like it. Not one bit.
The fake smile. The air-kissing. Hell, even Bean’s tone had changed. It was one he’d never heard from her before. Like she was indeed some socialite.
And Florence Sabrina ?
What. The. Fuck?
“We haven’t been in Seattle in eons, so imagine my surprise when I saw you walking by. And here of all places.” The other woman’s laugh was grating. And fake as fuck. “What are the chances of running into you?”
His eyes narrowed. The woman looked to be anywhere from her early fifties to late sixties. She was slim and slightly taller than Bean—even though B wore sky-high heels—and had straight, shoulder-length salt-and-pepper hair. There was something familiar about the older woman, but... he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
“I’m equally shocked as well,” Bean said, stepping to the side and moving them all out of the drink line. “What brings you to Seattle?”
“Oh, well, your—” The woman glanced at him and laughed that shrill laugh again. “Pardon me. Where are my manners?” She shot Bean a disapproving look—one he would have missed if he hadn’t been studying the other woman so intently—before holding out her hand to him. “I’m Dr. Flora Buena Ventura.”
He shook her extended hand, and trepidation crawled up his spine. “Gavin Frazier.”
“Gavin’s my partner,” Bean said, linking her arm with his. She leaned into him in a way that made no mistake that their supposed partnership was of the intimate sort.
Interesting .
He’d play along.
“That’s lovely,” Dr. Buena Ventura said, eyeing him up and down before meeting his gaze. “And what is it you do for work, Mr. Frazier?”
Gavin immediately sized her up. Though, truthfully, it wasn’t difficult. The woman thought she was far superior to him. “Corporate security, ma’am.” He had zero desire to provide any further information.
“That’s nice,” she said, her nose scrunching as if she’d smelled something foul. She gestured toward the general area of the tables. “My husband, Dr. Leonardo Buena Ventura, is a guest speaker at the University of Washington this week. We were invited by Herbert and Julia Croft to attend this evening as they’re very large donors to the McClintock Family Foundation. We’re heading off to London on Tuesday as I’m a guest lecturer at the University of Oxford.”
He was surprised she didn’t pat herself on the back.
“Well, it was fortuitous we were able to run into each other,” Bean said with that smile he was beginning to hate still on her face.
“Fortuitous, indeed.” The woman glanced around before waving at someone across the room. “The Crofts are waiting for me. They’re enthralled with my latest research. If we don’t see each other the rest of the evening, it was lovely seeing you again.” She turned to Gavin with her hand extended. For Bean’s sake, he shook it. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Frazier.” When she released his hand, she turned back to Bean and air-kissed her. “Shall I give your regards to your father?”
“Please,” Bean replied. “Be well, Mother.”
As the other woman pranced away, Gavin’s mouth fell open. He prided himself on his poker face, on masking his emotions, on always being professional. But holy fuck. Had he heard that right? That was Bean’s mother ?
He steered Bean toward the edge of the room until they stood next to a giant eight-foot vase that would give them some privacy. “B, what was?—”
“Change of plans,” she said in a low voice, looking out at the ballroom. “I’m no longer Sabrina Darcy, your high society friend from London. It’s Florence Sabrina Buena Ventura now. Daughter of Drs. Leonardo and Flora Buena Ventura.” Continuing to watch the various guests milling about, her lips pursed. “They’re kind of a big deal in academic circles. Six years ago, he won the Nobel Prize in Physics. The following year, she won the Nobel Prize in Chemistry.”
He frowned. That was fucking great and all, but... “B, what’s?—”
“I promise I’ll explain. But later.” She finally met his gaze, and the turmoil swirling in her blue eyes stopped his heart. “Please, Gavin.”
His chest squeezed as it resumed beating. “Of course, honey.” His lips quirked immediately after the endearment slipped out.
Bean’s right eyebrow arched, and when she smiled, it reached her eyes, easing some of that turmoil. “ Honey ? That’s a new one.”
He chuckled and popped out his elbow for her to take. “Well, apparently, we’re together together now. Honey is fitting, right?”
Letting out a shaky breath, she linked her arm with his. “That’s right.”
Covering her hand with his, he squeezed. “I’ve got you, B.”
“I’m counting on it.” She glanced up at him and flashed him a smile that was both sweet and shy and nailed him directly in the chest .
Without thinking, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, taking a moment to drink in her familiar soft floral scent. “Ready to do this?”
Her gaze held a hint of surprise, but she nodded. “Lead the way, Mr. Frazier.”
“It’s Gavin, honey,” he said with a wink.