Chapter 18 #2
“E-e-easy there, baby,” Deuce whispers like he’s calming a stallion hell-bent on breaking out of the stable.
He’s changed out of his suit and is in a polo shirt and khaki shorts instead. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him not in a suit or a workout outfit. It’s that brief moment of confusion that allows Deuce to steer me away from the stagehands and into the shade of a magnolia tree.
“What are you doing here?”
Now Deuce is the one confused. “I’m here to help you, remember?”
Something warm and annoying and undeniable settles into my brain, my gut, my heart. Betsy, Mary London, and now Deuce. They’re here. They’re helping. For me.
Sure, for the event too, but indirectly, they’re here to help me.
I don’t know what to do with that.
Deuce pulls me into a hug, one I’d like much better if I wasn’t a sweaty, stinking mess while he still smells fresh as a daisy. He doesn’t seem to mind though, just shifts us side to side like it’s the most natural thing for us to hug it out under a tree while chaos plays out around us.
“Ms. Landry?” a voice says behind Deuce. “The truck with the trophies called. They had some engine trouble and won’t be here until late tomorrow.”
I wrench myself out of Deuce’s hold with a gasp. It’s the same guy from the tech team. He’s not meeting my gaze and he’s making sure to keep at least a good six feet between us as he delivers this news.
“That’s unacceptable!” I reach for my thigh, then realize I don’t have my knife on me. Nor is knifing the poor guy going to fix these issues. Dammit! Running a crime family was easier than putting on a high-falutin’ event in the South!
Deuce waves away the man, who runs away from me like his ass is on fire. “I got this. You keep going on your list. I’ll make some calls.”
My breath is turning shallow as I think of all the things going wrong, which is never a good sign where my nervous system is concerned. “Okay. Thank you.”
He holds my gaze for a minute, as if to convey confidence, and then pulls out his phone to start placing calls. He walks away and I watch him go, trying to force my lungs to suck in a deeper, slower breath. It’s not working.
“You got a tool kit on ya, hon?” Mary London calls out, rushing over while somehow bouncing the baby in a gentle rhythm. I swear the woman has not one bead of sweat anywhere on her. “The rack holding all of my models’ outfits fell over. But only one item has a grass stain!”
The bottom of my stomach drops out. I don’t know how she’s still smiling. A grass stain? On something her model is supposed to wear tomorrow for the big fashion show? Shit, that’s not good!
“Hey, you okay?” Mary London puts her hands on my shoulders, a stretch from her short height and with the baby between us. Her light eyebrows draw together in concern. “You don’t look so good, honey.”
“Landry?”
I can’t breathe. I’m about to hyperventilate and there’s not enough oxygen in the world to stop this pressure on my ribs. The edges of my vision go fuzzy and my fake name gets called again, though it’s further away this time. Down a long tunnel.
Strong arms close around me and suddenly I’m in the storage room of Deuce’s boutique, on his lap and his strong hand cupping my jaw.
Someone fans me with my clipboard. The stars in my vision recede slowly.
There’s a residual numbness in my nose, but that’s the least of my worries.
Deuce peers down at me with a gentle, encouraging smile, his thumb sweeping across my cheek to wipe away tears.
Tears!
Jesus. Pull your shit together, Valentina!
“There you are, Valentina,” Deuce murmurs. I feel the rumble of his voice, a soothing vibration to calm me further.
I gulp in the first full breath I’ve taken in what feels like days. “I’m okay.”
“Yeah, you’re okay. Of course you’re okay. You got me, remember?” He shoots me a cocky, flirty grin, designed to piss me off enough to come out of one of the worst panic attacks I’ve ever had.
“Here’s some water.” Betsy is standing next to us, a bottle of ice-cold water in her hands. When I take it and gulp, she nods. “Glad to see you take a well-deserved break, Valentina.”
Deuce and I both tense. Shit. He called me Valentina, didn’t he? I study the button on his polo like it holds the answers to life’s greatest mysteries.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist, y’all. We knew something was off right from the get,” Mary London drawls, putting down the clipboard to edge in closer.
I open my mouth to deny everything, like maybe Valentina is a nickname or my middle name, but Deuce beats me to it.
“Sorry we lied to you.” His voice is serious, not one ounce of joking in his tone. “But I’d do it again to protect Valentina.”
I pull my gaze up to his face. He’s looking at me like he doesn’t see a girl who stabbed him or hated him for the next twenty years. Like he meant what he just said.
“You would?”
His hand, the one on my jaw, slips into my hair to gently stroke the strands sticking to the back of my neck. “Of course I would, V. Every time.”
The tears are back but I’m conscious enough at the moment to swallow them down instead of let them spill over. Deuce cares about me. Enough that he’d lie to his best friends to protect me.
Mary London claps her hands, startling us all. “Okay, that’s adorable! Y’all owe us a story time after tomorrow’s event is over, but for now, I suggest you get this lady home and get her fed. Tomorrow’s going to be hectic, but I promise you, everything will turn out fine.”
She pats my back and somehow I believe her. It’s weirdly wonderful to accept encouragement from someone.
Betsy checks the time on her phone. “Crap. Yeah, Silas had to go rescue the babysitter. He’ll be trying to make dinner with Harlow under his feet. I better go before we have a kitchen fire.”
She points at us both, a terrifying expression on her pale face. The mob could learn from her. “Story time on Sunday. Full disclosure on what the hell’s going on. Got it?”
Deuce looks at me expectantly. I realize he’s waiting to see if I agree. Again, he’s choosing me. I nod. He turns back to Betsy and Mary London.
“Agreed. Thanks for helping my girl today.”
I’m finally his girl.
My head drops to his shoulder. I’m suddenly exhausted and too overcome with emotions to keep myself away from this man. Without planning to, I can feel it happening. Like a tsunami that can’t be beat back.
I like Deuce.
I crave his attention.
And I’m coming to depend on him.