Chapter 36
Willow had chosen a midnight-blue evening gown for the occasion.
Her dress was a flowing silk chiffon creation that skimmed her curves without being overly revealing, with delicate beading along the neckline that caught the candlelight beautifully.
She had pulled her hair in a low chignon with soft tendrils framing her face.
Dangling silver rose earrings hung from her ears, and a matching bracelet encircled her wrist.
As she’d applied her makeup for a more dramatic look than her usual understated application, she was grateful the daily time expenditure was no longer part of her routine.
But now, with smoky eyes and rosy lips, she smiled at her reflection in the ladies' room as she chatted with a few fellow presenters.
Stepping out of the room, she wasn’t surprised to see Casper standing just outside in the hallway.
He was on edge, which made her more nervous.
And then that made him more nervous. Todd had noted their cycle of anxiety, but assured her that she would be safe with them.
She didn’t need his assurance. All she had to do was look at Casper, and she knew he would move heaven and earth to keep her safe.
The lighthouse pendant Casper had given her rested against her collarbone, hidden beneath the gown's modest neckline, yet providing the reassurance of a constant connection to the security team.
She touched it absently as she and Casper walked into the ballroom, drawing comfort from its presence even as her nerves continued to build.
His hand rested on her back as they weaved through the tables to where she had been directed to sit.
Earlier in the evening, attendees mingled during the cocktail hour, sampling heavy hors d'oeuvres ranging from Kansas City's famous barbecue sliders to more elegant offerings such as smoked salmon canapés and stuffed mushrooms. The social atmosphere had been warm and collegial, with screenwriters, producers, and industry professionals catching up on projects and sharing war stories from the trenches of the entertainment business.
Instead of moving among the attendees, she stayed near the side, with Casper close by, so others could move over to her if they wanted to chat.
It felt unnatural to be somewhat standoffish, but it would allow the stalker to see how close she was with Casper.
If they’re here. Glancing at the men and women moving around, she realized how easy it would be for someone to be hiding in plain sight.
Now, as the formal ceremony began, Willow was seated at a table near the front in the center section.
The position of honor made her highly visible to the entire audience but also separated her from Casper's immediate protection.
She could see him nearby, standing with his back against the wall.
Her breath hitched at the vision. He was devastatingly handsome in his dark suit, which allowed him to blend seamlessly with the venue's staff, while his alert posture and scanning gaze marked him as anything but ordinary hotel personnel.
Every time she caught sight of him, her heart rate increased in ways that had nothing to do with security concerns and everything to do with the way he looked.
Transformed for the formal occasion, Casper cut an imposing figure in a tailored black suit.
The formal wear emphasized his broad shoulders and athletic build, lending him an air of sophisticated danger.
His hair maintained the edge of military precision, with the darker hair on top complementing the suit jacket's sharp lines.
The contrast between his rugged features and the refined formal wear was striking.
She dragged in a deep breath, enraptured by the idea of a wolf hiding in a gentleman's clothing.
His intense dark eyes traveled around the room, constantly returning to her.
To anyone looking, he simply had the appearance of a bodyguard, but as their gazes met and their lips curved slightly, she knew he was much more. He was everything.
She knew her separation from his immediate vicinity was driving him crazy with tactical concerns, but the ceremony's logistics demanded that presenters be seated with others rather than scattered about the room.
The compromise left her feeling simultaneously protected by his watchful presence and vulnerable in ways that made her constantly aware of the crowd around her.
Todd, Frazier, and Cole were strategically positioned throughout the ballroom, maintaining visual contact with each other and her as hotel staff moved unobtrusively among the tables, refilling water glasses and wine goblets with professional efficiency.
To casual observers, the evening appeared to be unfolding with the smooth precision of any well-organized industry event.
But Willow felt the weight of exhaustion settling into her bones as the ceremony progressed through its various categories.
The past weeks of constant vigilance had taken their toll, leaving her with a bone-deep weariness that went far beyond normal fatigue.
She wanted nothing more than for this evening to end so she could return to Nebraska, sleep for twelve uninterrupted hours, and begin the process of reclaiming her life.
Yet even as she longed for home, dark questions plagued her thoughts.
What if her stalker wasn't here tonight?
What if this elaborate security operation failed to draw him out?
Would she return to Nebraska only to resume the same cycle of fear and hypervigilance that had driven her to seek protection in the first place?
The uncertainty twisted in her stomach like a living thing, making it difficult to focus on the presentations unfolding around her.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the ceremony's host announced from the podium, "please welcome screenwriter and Academy Award winner Willow Thorton to present our Breakthrough Screenwriter of the Year award."
The applause was warm and sustained as Willow made her way to the front of the ballroom, her heels silently moving on the carpet.
The stage lighting was bright enough to make the audience seen mostly through the candlelight on their tables.
At any other time, she would be enchanted by the scene, but now she just felt vulnerable.
"The journey from aspiring screenwriter to produced script is never easy," she began, her voice carrying clearly through the ballroom's sound system.
"It requires not only talent and perseverance, but the courage to keep believing in your story even when the industry seems determined to prove you wrong.
Tonight's winner embodies all of those qualities and more. "
She paused, allowing her gaze to sweep across the audience, trying to spot Casper's familiar silhouette off to the side.
"The Breakthrough Screenwriter of the Year award goes to Michael J.
Channey for his screenplay The Last Road, a powerful story about family, sacrifice, and the enduring power of hope. "
The applause erupted with genuine enthusiasm as a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair made his way toward the stage, his face glowing with emotion and surprise.
Willow handed him the crystal award and stepped aside to allow him his moment in the spotlight.
She stayed nearby, but her gaze darted over to find Casper’s attention riveted on her.
"I can't believe this," Michael said into the microphone, his voice thick with emotion. He offered a short speech thanking his wife, his children, and his agent.
His genuine gratitude and obvious joy reminded Willow why she'd fallen in love with writing in the first place. When the story found its audience and made a genuine impact, it made all the industry politics and commercial pressures worthwhile.
She returned to her seat to settle in for the remainder of the ceremony with slightly renewed energy.
Too nervous to drink beforehand, she gratefully sipped her water now that she could relax.
The program wasn't particularly long, designed to honor achievements without testing the audience's attention span, but each minute felt extended by her heightened awareness of every face in the crowd, every shadow that moved at the periphery of her vision.
As the final award was presented and the applause began to fade, Willow felt Casper's approach before she saw him. He materialized beside her table, and she could see the tension in his shoulders that spoke to his eagerness to extract her from the public venue.
"Ready to head out?" he asked quietly, his hand finding the small of her back in a gesture that was both protective and possessive.
"I’m so exhausted and wish I could," she replied with genuine longing, leaning into his touch. "But I need to make an appearance at the after-party. Just for thirty minutes or so. Enough to show respect for the organizers and connect with a few colleagues."
She could see his jaw tighten with frustration, but he nodded his understanding.
They had planned for the party, but it was obvious he wished she had wanted to make her escape.
The cocktail party was already in full swing by the time they made their way to the adjacent reception space, a smaller ballroom decorated with the same elegant touches as the ceremony venue, only with tall cocktail tables dotting the area, still giving the attendees plenty of room to walk around, gather, and meet.
The lighting was even more subdued here, creating intimate conversation areas while jazz music provided a sophisticated backdrop for industry mingling.