17. Lily
Lily
I’m partying with the Keira Knightley and kickass Stasia van Gameren. I didn’t put two and two together when Mikki mentioned her bestie’s name.
Oh, my freaking God.
When Keira arrived at Rod and Dom’s house, where the sisterhood was getting primped for tonight, I was starstruck for a full minute before I thought I was going to lose my shit. I had to control myself not to fuss all over her like a fan girl or beg for an autograph.
I’m a huge Lucky Break fan. So is Nadine. She’s going to die.
Even if the group is no longer active due to tragedy, I still shake my hips to their upbeat tunes.
As for Stasia—any woman who can bring the house down with her mad guitar skills while balancing on five-inch heels earns my respect.
I nearly fainted when Mikki suggested a selfie with the four of us. I guess my poker face wasn’t as stoic as I thought. Maybe it’s because I kept shooting glances filled with admiration Keira’s way.
When Mikki talked about the sisterhood and the inner circle, she wasn’t joking.
While the girls were primping at Dom’s house, the men were kicking off the evening at Rhys’s business partner’s house. I was overwhelmed by all this girl power, but when we arrived at the club, I was hit with another wave of awestruck-worthy celebrities.
Cello2Cello’s talented duo are here.
I’m not into rock music, so I didn’t know Rod, Rhys’s business partner Beckett, Beckett’s older brother, and cousin were part of Random Misconception—one of the best rock bands of our time. The birthday boy also has superstar status as a former rap star.
Little ol’ me is rubbing elbows with some pretty big names.
I’m nothing special.
I can’t sing.
I can’t compose music.
I’m not that great at faking it, so acting is out of the question.
God knows after a long string of music lessons, I still suck at piano and violin.
Despite my father’s colossal wealth, I can’t even call myself a socialite, because he’s kept me a secret for most of my life, so I’ve always kept a low profile, for fearing of calling too much attention to myself.
Yet, here I am.
I’m a fish out of water, but I’m loving this new adventure. The people in my father’s circle might be wealthy, but none of them have Hollywood star power .
I was having an incredible time until I went and ruined it for myself.
Arianne, Beckett’s better half, introduced me to Cesar Navarro and his wife Diana. I’m not on top of my Latin music, so I didn’t go into fan girl mode like I had with Keira and Stasia. Still, these two are mega music stars.
I was chatting up a storm––too many French martinis in a row tend to do that––when my mouth ran away from me. I made the mistake of saying I’ve always wanted to learn how to dance salsa. Diana promptly enlisted her husband as my dance teacher.
My cheeks warm, not because of the martinis, but because I’m injuring Cesar.
The former King of Reggaetón turned successful businessman has been teaching me the basics for the past half hour.
I wouldn’t say I have two left feet, but salsa is hard.
On Dancing with The Stars, Strictly Come Dancing, and Danse avec les stars everyone dances with such ease and grace.
I’m sure Cesar must be regretting he accepted to step up to the challenge. By the time this lesson is done, I’ll have scuffed up his expensive looking shoes.
I stare up at him. “I’m sorry.” I cringe when I step on his foot. Again.
“Don’t worry about it,” he says, his dark brown eyes filled with understanding. “Let’s take it from the top.”
“I’m a lost cause,” I say.
The music isn’t too loud to prevent easy conversation. Or in this case, easy complaining.
“Nonsense. Practice makes perfect.”
If you say so.
“ Chica muévelo .”
Cesar has been saying that on repeat since this torture began. I do as I’m told, and shake my hips.
“One, two. Three, four. ”
I follow my dance partner’s instructions.
All these names to remember and me trying hard not to cause Cesar grievous bodily harm have kept my mind occupied.
No time to think about Gage.
“May I cut in,” a man says, tapping Cesar’s shoulder.
I lift my eyes.
A tall man towers over Cesar and me.
Wow, another guy who could double as a fitness model.
This group of attractive people is a little intimidating, to be honest.
“ ?Ay, caramba! Go away, Collin, you’re bothering us,” Cesar says.
Translation: Damn it.
I laugh.
“Hello.” The newcomer ignores Cesar’s jab and focuses his attention on me. “I’m Collin Dennison.” He flashes me a dazzling smile. “I’m sorry I’m late. Had I known you’d be here tonight, I would’ve arrived sooner… but I’m here now.”
If he wasn’t this gorgeous, that pickup line would have cheesy written all over it.
Cesar lets out an exasperated sigh and stops dancing, forcing me to do the same.
Cesar hooks a hand on his hip, adopting an impatient stance. “Can’t you see we’re busy, Dennison?”
“Don’t be rude, amigo ,” Collin says. “There’s a gorgeous new face in our inner circle and we haven’t been introduced yet. That right there, is a crime.”
Cesar rolls his eyes hard.
Collin Denison is a blue-eyed hunk who has a face—and body—that should be gracing a men’s magazine cover.
He’s adorned in a dark blue linen shirt that molds his muscular torso.
His sleeves are rolled up, revealing a peek of tattooed forearms. The white linen pants and navy-blue shoes complement the shirt to perfection.
The newcomer oozes as much style, confidence, and charisma as all the men at this private party.
“Pleased to meet you.” Collin extends a hand. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours. That means, I’m at a disadvantage.”
Smooth talker.
I shake his hand. “Pleased to meet you, I’m Lily Schuyler.”
“Lovely Lily, you’re wasting your time with this guy. He’s happily married.”
“She knows.” Cesar flashes his left hand. “My wife is here.”
“My point exactly.”
Cesar narrows his eyes at Collin.
He ignores the warning in my teacher’s gaze and points his charm-laser at me. “I’m very single, and unlike him”—he crooks a thumb in Cesar’s direction— “I’m an excellent salsa dancer.”
He does a few suave moves to demonstrate.
Oh yeah, he’s cocky all right.
“And which one of your parents is Latino?” Cesar purses his lips.
“Please.” Collin rolls his eyes. “Being Latino isn’t a prerequisite to having the right moves. You either have it or you don’t, and I have it in spades.” Mr. Casanova’s gaze travels the length of my body. “Your outfit… could stop traffic.”
“Thank you.”
To Mikki’s credit, I’ve received a lot of attention from men tonight. More than I expected.
Even if my luggage had arrived when I did, I wouldn’t have anything remotely close to this in it.
This outfit screams LA. I had an outfit selected for tonight, but the sisterhood vetoed it, stating it was too good girl for the City of Angels.
Since Dom and I are the same size, she shoved an outfit she bought, but never wore, in my hands, pushed me in the bathroom, and ordered me to change .
After staring at myself in the mirror for an eternity, uncertain if I had the courage to pull off the daring outfit, I stepped out of the bathroom.
The sisterhood approved with cheers and thumbs up. Their reaction gave me wings.
“That outfit”—another onceover—“requires a bodyguard,” Collin says. “Allow me to post my candidature for the job.”
“Everyone is so friendly here.” I smile. “I’m sure I don’t have to worry.”
“These guys are my buddies, but make no mistake about it, lovely Lily, they can be wolves. It’s best if I stay close by.”
“Lily has a bodyguard,” Cesar says.
“You?” Collin scoffs.
An evil smile splits Cesar’s lips. “Gage is watching over her while she’s in Los Angeles.”
Since he isn’t here at present, that’s not accurate.
Collin’s head jerks back. “Gage?”
Cesar nods. “Yes.”
All color drains from Collin’s face. “You know what, I should go and wish Rhys a Happy Birthday again,” he says. “Catch you later, Lily.”
“Catch you—” The rest of my sentence dies on my lips.
Mr. Casanova bolts to the other side of the club so fast, I swear I saw cartoon puffs of smoke coming off his feet.
“Collin couldn’t stay away from a gorgeous woman even if his life depended on it,” my dance instructor says.
“I’m flattered. I think.”
Cesar laughs. “He’s a little bit much, but he’s harmless.”
“Noted.”
The music changes to another sexy salsa beat.
Thank God I had the good sense to pull my curtain of raven-black hair into an updo. Had I not, I’d be blinded right now. My eyes are trained to the floor to avoid stepping on Cesar’s polished shoes, as I’m so determined to get it right.
“You should hold your dance partner’s eyes,” Cesar says.
“I will.” My eyes remain glued to my feet.
He chuckles.
With my attention focused on my feet, I repeat the steps in my head.
“Collin, I thought you got the message the first— Gage, hermano , you’re here.”
My eyes shoot up.
I stare Gage up and down as if he’s a figment of my imagination.
My heart flips over in my chest.
“Hey, Cesar, I didn’t know you were giving private dancing lessons,” Gage says. “Trying to fund your retirement?”
“Nah, I’m in the business of making dreams come true,” he says. “Salsa dancing was on Lily’s bucket list, so I obliged.” Cesar scours the dance floor before meeting Gage’s gaze. “My wife pushed me into it, but that’s between you and me.”
Cesar laughs.
My brain registered his joke, but I’m too shellshocked to crack a smile.
He’s here.
Gage moves his attention to me.
Holy hotness on legs.
For a second, I go stupid, gawking at him.
Those green eyes have the ability to make me weak in the knees.
Yesterday, he was the definition of suit porn, but today… the man is a walking Adonis.
Dear God, save me .
I’m not sure how that’s even possible, but he looks more badass than he did yesterday even though he ditched the bespoke suit. He’s dressed down in a gray Burberry shirt with the first two buttons undone, revealing a glimpse of his chest and?—
Gage has tattoos?