Chapter 32
I’d never been a fan of penguin suits. There was something about tuxedos that didn’t feel very…me. That wasn’t to say that I didn’t look damn good in one, though, because I could wear the hell out of any suit.
I looked over my reflection in my mirror, adjusting my bow tie before running my fingers through my hair, giving it that slightly messy yet still casually put-together look.
The Rose Ball took place in the ballroom of a convention hotel in downtown Charleston and started in an hour, meaning I needed to leave at least five minutes ago.
My phone chimed with an incoming text, and there was Gabe, right on cue to tell me we were running late and to hurry my ass up—I was riding with him because we figured it would be easier to take one car on the ferry.
I walked out of my room and grabbed my ticket off the counter before hurrying out of my apartment. When I emerged from the building, Gabe was waiting with his car running idle and the passenger window down. “Let’s go, fancy pants! We’re gonna be late.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said as I opened the door and slid inside. “You act like the event is going to crumble if two unknown guests aren’t right on time. Relax, my guy.”
Gabe shook his head with a huff of laughter as he took off out of the parking lot of my complex and started toward the ferry port in Haversburg.
We were barely ten minutes late when we finally arrived, and we were far from the last, evident by the line of people behind us as we went through security, letting the men at the door check our tickets and IDs.
Once we got inside, we followed the other guests toward the ballroom, stepping inside to be met with chatter and music.
True to the event’s name, the ballroom was decorated with displays of brilliant red roses from centerpieces to arches above the doorways of the entrance and the terrace.
Gabe and I made our way further inside, heading to one of two bars set up—it may seem odd to have alcohol at a charity event raising funds for a foundation whose sole purpose was to combat drunk driving, but they needed to appease the masses, I supposed.
Plus, they offered free rooms paid for by the foundation and their sponsors for anyone needing one at the end of the night.
We got our drinks and stepped away from the bar, scanning the crowd for familiar faces. Gabe nudged my arm and pointed across the room to where Lucas and Callie were standing, and we headed toward them.
“Hey,” Lucas greeted us with a grin, shaking our hands.
“You guys look dapper,” Callie teased as we greeted her.
“I always look dapper, Calliefornia.” She chuckled at both my comment and my nickname for her. “And you’re looking all dolled up. Practicing for the big day?” I quipped, and my question earned a beaming smile from Lucas.
She chuckled, leaning into Lucas’s side. “Maybe.”
“Where’s Morgan?” Gabe asked, looking around.
“She messaged me not too long ago and said she was on her way,” Callie answered.
The four of us chatted as the gala started to get underway.
Gabe updated us on how Blake was doing; he’d been gone nearly two months now but was doing well and taking it all in stride like he did everything else.
Lucas pointed out various sponsors of the event and introduced us to the Nash family—the founders of The Grady Foundation—when they approached him to thank him face-to-face for the donation he and Callie made.
While still waiting for Morgan to arrive, I happened to glance over at the doors, and that’s when I saw her.
And I swore my heart stopped.
Morgan’s slender frame was wrapped in a red satin gown that clung to every inch of her curves.
As she walked further into the room, I saw her tan leg peek out from beneath the fabric, and my gaze slowly followed the opening of the thigh-high slit up to the low neckline and the lush slope of her chest. Her long brown hair was down in loose curls and swept to one side, and her perfect lips were painted red to match.
She looked downright breathtakingly sinful and easily became the most beautiful woman in that room the moment she walked through those doors.
“Jesus Christ,” I whispered to myself.
I let my eyes travel over her again, devouring every inch of her…until the hand of a black-clad arm settling on the small of her back made me pause. My gaze flickered up to see the owner.
Corbin Blackwood.
“Is he her date?” The question came out a bit more sharply than I intended, but the chatter and music in the room dulled it enough to where it wasn’t picked up on.
Lucas followed my gaze and smiled. “Yeah. He called me yesterday and asked if I knew whether or not she was bringing a date to the gala. I said I didn’t know, but I checked with Callie, and she confirmed that she wasn’t. So, he asked if he could have her number…”
I glanced back in Morgan’s direction, and my jaw ticked as a foreign wave of irritation hit me.
It was something I’d never felt in my life.
It started like a slow, creeping fog, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth as the tendrils of anger-spiked mist swirled until everything was blurred by a thick cloud of possessive wrath.
Because Corbin fucking Blackwood had his hand on the small of Morgan’s back.
And Morgan…she was mine.
I’d seen her on plenty of dates once our game of sabotage started, but none of them made me feel like this.
Maybe it was arrogance and the gall I had to think that none of those other douchebags held a candle to me.
But Corbin did. He was a year older and grew up in the Charleston scene, but I’d known him and his brothers since we were teenagers.
He was down-to-earth, nice as hell, and charming as fuck.
And he had his goddamn hand on Morgan, and I fucking hated it.
I could feel the fury coursing through my veins with each wild thump of my heart. And though it was unfamiliar, I knew exactly what it was.
Jealousy.
Pure, unadulterated jealousy.
Perhaps Morgan thought that coming with a date to a charity gala—one our friends were being honored at—would pause our little game, but I never wanted to play sabotager more than I did at that moment.
I took a sip of my drink, my hand clutched so tightly around the glass I thought it might shatter as I eyed her over its rim.
“You okay?”
I snapped from my daze and looked over at Lucas. “Peachy.”
He seemed to take my answer at face value and returned to his conversation with Gabe and Callie. My eyes went back to Morgan and her date as they started making their way across the room toward us.
“Mo! That dress!” Callie grinned once they neared.
My heart stuttered a beat because, up close, she looked even more breathtaking. That anger flourished even more in my chest when Corbin smiled at her. “She looks stunning, right?” he said.
Fuck off.
Corbin greeted each of us, and when he got to me and extended his hand, I forced a smile and shook it with a much tighter grip than necessary. “Quite a grasp you got there, Callahan,” he said with a chuckle.
“Don’t know my own strength sometimes,” I murmured unenthusiastically.
My eyes went from him to Morgan, and when she met my gaze, she gave me an inquisitive look, subtly arching her brow.
I gave her nothing in response as I held her stare, and I swore I saw a flash of intrigue in her eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it came as she turned back to her conversation with Callie while Corbin got lost in conversation with Lucas.
And as he did, I saw his hand snake around her to rest on her hip.
I downed the rest of my drink before excusing myself to get a refill. I needed to step away because I wanted to hit something, and Corbin’s face was at the very fucking top of that list.
As the evening continued, I felt like some kind of masochist because I couldn’t take my eyes off Morgan and her date, no matter how torturous it was to watch.
Everywhere they went, my gaze followed. I saw each time she smiled or laughed at something he said.
I saw each time he put an arm around her or placed a hand on her.
I wanted to be the one she was smiling and laughing with.
I wanted to be the one to have my arm around her or my hand on her body.
And it was almost like she knew. Maybe not to the full extent, but she knew something was going on in my head.
Because each time she looked at me, that flicker of curiosity would flare in her eyes as if she were both taunted and allured by the mystery of why I couldn’t seem to take my damn eyes off of her in a way I never had before.
I watched Corbin hold his hand out to her and gesture with his other to the open dance floor when a new song started to play, and my jaw tensed when she accepted, letting him guide her to it.
My gaze followed them, watching as he wrapped an arm around her on the dance floor, smiling at her as they talked and slowly moved to the music.
Then, she made the mistake of looking at me. My eyes locked with her from my place near the back wall…and an aching need for her flourished.
I began to move, slowly making my way around the edge of the ballroom toward the exit.
My eyes remained trained on her, and hers would subtly flicker in my direction every few steps.
I paused by the exit, ensuring I locked eyes with her one last time before casually slipping out and turning to the left.
Something in my gut told me she would be following me shortly. And I was using that instinct for a different form of sabotage that night. To prove she needed and wanted me as much as I did her, date or not.
I passed by a few guests lingering in the near-empty hall, distracted by their conversations, and walked until I came to a door…
to what I didn’t know. I didn’t care. I opened it and slipped inside, glancing around with the light from the hall—it was an all-but-empty coat closet, one I assumed was used for events that took place in the colder months, with only a few forgotten jackets hanging inside.