24. Chapter Twenty-Four #2
“I’m standing right here.”
I accept the tequila he offers.
“We need to talk,” he says.
His grin doesn’t conceal the weight beneath the words.
“Yes.”
“About the resignation.”
“I assumed.”
“And my sister.”
“I also assumed that.”
Cassie’s eyes widen.
Bran points toward her.
“Not now.”
She folds her arms.
“I’m your fiancée.”
“And?”
“And you’re absolutely telling me later.”
Bran looks at me.
“This is your fault.”
“I’m comfortable with that.”
I toss back the tequila.
The burn settles pleasantly in my throat.
Bran studies me.
“You seem different.”
“I showered.”
“That isn’t it.”
“We’ll talk.”
He nods.
“Tonight.”
“Fine.”
A familiar awareness moves over my skin.
Someone is watching me.
I turn.
Francis stands across the ballroom, surrounded by donors and political allies. He continues speaking while looking directly at me.
His expression gives nothing away.
He acknowledges me with a single nod.
I return it.
This morning, I told him I love his daughter.
Tonight, he invited me into his home anyway.
I don’t mistake that for approval.
A waiter passes with champagne.
I take a glass and search the room.
Then I see her.
My heart stops.
Simone stands near the grand staircase.
She wears a sapphire gown that follows every curve of the body I’ve touched. The fabric leaves her shoulders bare and falls into a thigh-high slit, exposing one long leg and a gold heel.
A sheer scarf circles her throat and trails down her back.
Her dark hair falls in thick waves around her shoulders.
Gold brightens her brown eyes.
Her lips are glossy and pink.
She looks unreal.
Untouchable.
Except I know the sounds she makes when I touch her.
I know how those legs feel wrapped around me.
I know what her face looks like when she wakes in my arms.
The knowledge makes the distance between us unbearable.
A man stands beside her.
Adrien.
Jealousy strikes even though I know the truth.
I know he doesn’t want her.
I know their relationship is an arrangement.
That doesn’t mean I enjoy watching him stand close enough to make her laugh.
He wears a gold dinner jacket and enough jewelry to reflect the chandeliers.
Adrien sees me first.
His mouth lifts into a grin.
Then, to my surprise, he raises one hand in greeting.
I narrow my eyes.
His grin widens.
Simone follows his attention.
Our gazes meet.
Everything else disappears.
Her body becomes still.
Her fingers tighten around the stem of her wineglass.
Her gaze travels down my suit and returns to my face.
Color touches her cheeks when she realizes I’m doing the same to her.
Three days.
It has only been three days since I held her.
It feels like months.
I begin moving before I consciously decide to.
People block the most direct route, so I weave through conversations and clusters of guests.
Simone never looks away.
The string quartet changes songs.
Several couples move toward the center of the ballroom as the first notes of a formal dance begin.
The path between us fills instantly.
A woman I vaguely recognize catches my hand.
“There you are.”
Before I can object, she pulls me into the forming circle.
“I don’t believe we’ve officially met.”
She introduces herself.
I miss the name.
My attention remains on Simone.
Adrien offers her his hand.
She gives him a look before accepting.
They join the dance several couples away.
This particular arrangement involves rotating partners.
Good.
I can tolerate approximately thirty seconds before reaching her.
The woman places one hand on my shoulder.
“You seem tense.”
“So I’ve been told.”
We move through the first sequence.
I turn her beneath my arm and pass her to the next man.
Cassie steps into her place.
She smiles.
“Convenient.”
“Did you arrange that?”
“No.”
She looks toward Simone.
“But I support it.”
We move with the rhythm of the music.
“Bran is worried about you,” Cassie says.
“He shouldn’t be.”
“You resigned without telling him.”
“He knows now.”
“That isn’t the same as hearing it from you.”
Apparently, every woman in my life received the same script today.
“I’ll talk to him.”
“He loves you.”
“I know.”
Cassie rests one hand against my chest.
The engagement ring on her finger catches the chandelier light.
“He’s afraid you’re leaving him too.”
“I’m leaving a job.”
“Tell him that.”
“I will.”
Her expression softens.
“Okay.”
She taps my chest twice.
“I believe you.”
The dancers rotate again.
A warm palm slides into mine.
My breath catches before I look down.
Simone.
Her fingers intertwine with mine immediately.
Her other hand settles on my shoulder.
I place mine at her waist.
The contact sends heat through my entire body.
“Hi,” she says.
The word is barely audible above the music.
“Hi.”
Her strawberry perfume surrounds me.
I pull her closer in accordance with the dance.
My thumb moves over the base of her spine.
Her breathing deepens.
The rest of the room fades.
“How was your meeting?” she asks.
“Interesting.”
“Bran told me.”
“About the resignation?”
“Yes.”
“I wanted to tell you myself.”
“You’re telling me now.”
“I resigned.”
A smile begins in her eyes.
“I’m proud of you.”