Prologue #2
“And you’re good for my ego.” She leaned into me, grinning, and I once again found myself thankful for our friendship.
To everyone else, it was a hell of a lot more than that, but Serena was my best friend, my confidante, and that went both ways.
We were there for each other no matter what and didn’t hold anything back…
at least, we hadn’t until the crush I harbored for her father had gotten a little out of hand.
That wasn’t something I was dying to tell her, and didn’t plan to, since nothing would ever come of it.
The sound of chimes alerted the guests to direct their attention toward the front of the room, and I knew before looking who I’d find standing there.
Mr. Carrington kept his welcome speech short and to the point, managing to charm the crowd who’d paid an obscene amount of money to attend.
Once the first course rolled out, he finally took his seat alongside the other Elysium board members, and every now and then I’d let my gaze travel to his table to see him smiling and laughing, though I couldn’t imagine what any of those uptight types could say that would be so funny.
That was the thought I was having during the appetizer when he looked up suddenly, his eyes catching mine and immediately relaxing into something familiar.
I went completely still, but then he smiled at me, and I couldn’t help but return it.
When he looked at me, it jumbled my insides and I had no clue how anyone around couldn’t see it.
“Oh fuck no,” Serena said, and for a heartbeat I thought she had noticed, that the last secret I’d kept from her was out, but no. Her attention was on someone approaching her father from behind, and her narrowed gaze said it wasn’t someone she liked.
“What’s wrong?”
“Not what, who .” She leaned in close and nodded in the direction of the man in the black velvet tux now stopping behind her father’s chair.
He had shiny, slicked-back hair that was as dark as midnight, and it shone under the chandeliers.
“Stuart Galloway. My dad’s ex. Ugh, this is so not going to end well. ”
I narrowed my eyes on the man as he placed his hand on Mr. Carrington’s shoulder and leaned down to say something by his ear.
I tightened my fingers on my champagne flute and was surprised the thing didn’t shatter in my hand, as Serena’s father stiffened in his seat and turned. The charming smile from earlier fell from his lips as he looked up at this Stuart asshole.
“I’m guessing things didn’t end well?”
“That’s an understatement.”
I didn’t dare take my eyes off the two men, as Mr. Carrington pushed to his feet to greet the newcomer. Ever the gentleman, he forced a smile, and having studied him as closely as I had, I could sense the tension in him as though it were my own.
“What happened?” I asked, not only for Serena’s sake but my own. I wanted to know what kind of moron would end things with Archer Carrington, because if that had been me in his position, nothing on the planet would’ve stopped me from staying with that man.
“I don’t really know all the details, but from what I could gather, he didn’t like that Dad actually works for what he has. He was more about living a lifestyle than living a life. He wanted to travel and just have fun, whereas Dad?—”
“Enjoys his job and works hard at it,” I finished for her.
“Exactly. So Dad ended things.”
My lips automatically curved at that little piece of information, as Mr. Carrington shook his head and put a hand on Stuart’s arm, guiding him away from the table. Whatever the other man was saying, Mr. Carrington clearly didn’t want others to hear.
Serena let out a sigh and took a sip of her drink. “This is the last thing Dad needs tonight. He hates people speculating about him and his private life, and Stuart knows it.”
Something about that really pissed me off. Mainly because I knew how it felt to have others look at you and wonder. Feeling like you were constantly under a microscope was exhausting.
“Oh shitballs…” Serena said as Mr. Carrington held up a hand and then stepped around Stuart to walk out of the hall. “Damn it.”
As Stuart walked over to the bar, I turned toward Serena, caught the look of concern on her face, and reached for her hand. “Hey, you okay? Do you want to go and find your dad? Check on him, maybe?”
“No, no.” She shook her head, her blonde hair falling all around her shoulders. “He would be mortified to know I’d seen them arguing.”
I could understand that—her father was a proud man. One who was usually suave and full of confidence. To know that anyone, let alone his daughter, had seen a crack in that polished facade would likely make whatever he was feeling a hundred times worse.
“But maybe you could go?” Serena suggested, and I almost choked on my drink.
“Me?”
“Yeah.” She swiveled in her seat and put a hand on my arm. “The second course is still being served, and it’d only take a few minutes. Maybe track him down and distract him with something event related so he doesn’t think I sent you.”
“Event related? Like what?”
“I don’t know.” She grimaced. “Maybe someone found a hair in their bisque.”
“Seriously? I don’t think that would make him feel better.”
“Okay, maybe not something food related.” She eyed the empty champagne flutes on our table, then the one in my hand. “What about something to do with the drinks? They’ve run out of Dom? What’s that, your second? I’m sure everyone’s guzzling it down. It could happen.”
As she talked about how I should go find—and console—her father, I drank my third , not second, glass dry, because there was nothing I’d like more than to make Archer Carrington feel better.
“Okay, okay. I’ll go find him.”
Her eyes filled with gratitude as I got to my feet, and something twisted in my gut—guilt.
“Thank you.”
I ran my fingers down her cheek, then left my date and friends, weaving my way between the groups of Elysium members gathered at their tables. I smiled and waved at several people who greeted me, but didn’t stop as I hurried through the hall in the direction I’d seen Mr. Carrington go.
I could do this. A quick checkup. Make sure he wasn’t consoling himself by getting blind drunk or thinking of hurling himself off the Elysium’s top-floor balcony. Then I could go back to Serena and tell her everything was fine.
Sure. No problem. But first, I had to find him.
I exited the main hall and through the foyer, and was about to head upstairs to his office when I heard a noise close by.
There were a couple of recreational areas off the east side of the foyer, cigar and billiards rooms, and as I started in that direction, I found Mr. Carrington sitting in one of the private alcoves that lined the hallway.
“Preston.”
Mr. Carrington got to his feet, and my eyes fell to the glass in his hand. I wondered if that was his first or second pour, and I figured that was as good a segue as any to get him talking.
“Needed something stronger than champagne tonight? I thought it was a fully stocked bar.”
Mr. Carrington blinked then looked to the glass in his hand. “It is. I just needed to toss a couple back and didn’t want anyone to see.”
That’s what I thought. Always the professional. Always the gentleman. There were plenty of members who would be fall-on-their-ass drunk from the open bar tonight, but Archer Carrington wouldn’t be one of them. Even if his moron ex had shown up to crash the party.
“No one would care,” I said, stepping out of the hall and into an alcove barely big enough for the clubman chair and side table that was nestled into it.
“Yes, but I would.” He let out a sigh, and something about the vulnerable response had me remembering why I was there.
“Are you all right?”
His eyes shot to mine, and his lips parted like a denial was on the tip of his tongue.
Something in my expression must’ve made him change his mind, though, because he shook his head.
“I guess you noticed Stuart.” He swirled the contents of his glass.
“Just another reminder I’m going to end up old and alone at Christmas. ”
As he threw back another mouthful, the buzz of alcohol had my ears ringing. My first inclination was to refute what he’d just said, because how the hell could someone like him ever think he didn’t have a long line of guys kicking down the door to get to him?
And I was the one there. With him. Not in a line, not behind a door, but only a few feet away, close enough I could take a couple steps forward and have my hands on him.
No. That was crazy. Don’t think about touching him.
My body wasn’t listening to my brain, though, because before I could stop myself, I’d closed the gap between us. I wrapped my hand around his on the glass, and surprise lit his warm brown eyes before they settled into something I recognized all too well, just not from him.
Heat.
I didn’t take my eyes off him as I gently took the glass from him and lifted it to my own lips. Was it wrong I wanted a taste of him any way I could get it, even if it was only my mouth touching the place his had been?
In the back of my mind, I could hear the muffled shout of “yes,” but the whiskey making its way down my throat washed it away.
My heart pounded as his eyes dropped to my mouth, and I waited for him to move away—to realize we were too close, that the energy in the room had changed into something so full of sexual tension that my dick was thrumming with it, punching against the confines of my pants.
But he didn’t step back. He stayed right there, a breath away, watching me so intently I could practically feel his hands on me.
God, I wanted his hands on me.
I swallowed down the rest of his whiskey, licked the remnants off my lips, and stopped breathing when I thought Mr. Carrington—fuck it— Archer’s head moved toward me.