Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
I t was after nine when we finally arrived at the party. Hannah knew I was nervous and continuously reassured me. I didn't want to embarrass Nick, though.
The limo door swung open to a wall of humid summer air and popping camera flashes. Music from inside leaked out in bass-heavy waves, making the sidewalk vibrate under my feet. Hannah emerged first, her sequined dress scattering light like a disco ball. I followed less gracefully, tugging at my hem while wobbling on unfamiliar heels. The wall of light stuttered, then died as the photographers lowered their cameras with barely concealed disappointment. We weren’t who they were looking for.
A figure materialized from the shadows of the doorway—Justin Reid, Nick's business partner. He carried himself with the easy confidence of someone who belonged here, his smile predatory. "Hello, ladies," he purred, his gaze lingering a beat too long on my bare shoulders.
"Hello," both Hannah and I replied simultaneously.
"Can I show you to your date?” Justin asked, extending his arm for me to loop mine through. I looked to Hannah for reassurance, and she nodded. Looping my arm into his, I nodded.
"You'll have to excuse me," Hannah said politely. "I have some people to find." And she disappeared into the crowd.
"You look stunning tonight." Justin's gaze lingered on me, assessing and appreciative in equal measure.
I shifted under his scrutiny, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from my dress. "Thank you. You look nice as well." The polite response felt inadequate, but what exactly does one say to a man who looks like he's mentally calculating your value?
"Please tell me you're not trying to steal my date." Nick's voice materialized behind us, low and controlled, but with an edge that sliced through the ambient chatter. I jolted, my ankle wobbling in my borrowed heels.
Justin's hands found my elbows, steadying me with efficiency. His thumbs lingered against my bare skin a heartbeat longer than necessary.
"Of course not." Justin's lips curved upward, but the smile calcified before reaching his eyes. Something cold and knowing passed between the men. "Merely escorting her to you."
A muscle jumped in Nick's jaw. His gaze dropped to Justin's hands, still resting on my arms, then rose to meet mine. Though his expression remained pleasant, almost bored to casual observers, I caught the slight narrowing of his eyes, the tightness around his mouth.
His fingers uncurled at his sides, one by one, like he was physically releasing tension. "Of course."
He extended his hand, palm up—an invitation that felt more like a claim. The chandelier light caught the platinum of his watch as he waited, silent, unmoving.
Around us, conversations continued, champagne flutes clinked, music played, but the three of us stood suspended in our own pocket of charged silence.
Justin leaned closer before releasing me, his voice pitched low. "Save me a dance, beautiful." The words carried just far enough to land like a challenge, though his lips barely moved.
I hesitated, then slipped my hand into Nick's waiting palm. "Sure," I replied, aware of stepping into a conversation with undercurrents I couldn't fully read. The muscle ticking in Nick's jaw confirmed it—I'd just committed to something deeper than a simple dance invitation.
Nick guided me across the ballroom's marble floor, which reflected the crystal chandeliers like an endless mirror of stars beneath our feet. While he traded industry jargon and inside jokes with strangers, I clutched my champagne flute like a shield, forcing smiles and nodding at all the wrong moments. The crystal chandeliers caught every pristine tooth in their knowing smirks when I tried to contribute to conversations about summer homes and hedge funds.
Another couple retreated with poorly concealed winces, and Nick's fingers brushed my elbow. "You okay?"
I studied the crystal pattern in my champagne glass. "Yeah, I'm not good at this kind of stuff."
Nick dipped his head close to mine, his breath warming my ear. "You're doing fine."
"Nicky!" The honeyed voice sliced through our bubble. I turned to find yet another willowy blonde gliding toward us, her designer dress whispering against the marble floor.
I was starting to understand what Hannah meant about me not being Nick's type. They were all tall, thin, with big boobs and very blonde. I was none of those.
"Karly." Nick's hand at my waist stiffened. The champagne in his glass trembled slightly as he lowered it, his knuckles whitening against the crystal stem.
I felt him take a subtle, steadying breath beside me.
She moved toward us, golden hair cascading over bare shoulders. The crowd parted for her—whether from respect or fear, I couldn't tell.
"It's been a while, love." Her perfume reached us before she did, something expensive and overwhelming. As she offered her cheeks for his kiss, I noticed how her eyes never left his face, how her manicured fingers lingered on his shoulder longer than necessary. I took a small step back, suddenly aware of the invisible line being drawn—her territory, her history with him.
Nick's jaw tightened. "Yes, it has."
Her gaze swept the room, passing over me as though I were merely part of the decor. The dismissal made my cheeks burn.
"Hi, I'm Olivia." I extended my hand into the space between us, determined not to be erased.
Her eyes flicked to my hand, then back to Nick, a silent question in her arched eyebrow.
"It was good seeing you, Karly." Nick's voice carried a finality as he took my outstretched hand in his. "We should circulate."
Before I could process what was happening, he was guiding me away, his thumb tracing small circles on my palm.
"Wait, Nicky." Her voice sharpened as she reached for his sleeve. "Perhaps we can meet up later tonight. You know, for old times' sake."
Nick's hand squeezed mine. "I don't think so, Karly." He steered us through the crowd toward the far side of the room, where Justin stood with our group, each step putting distance between us and his past.
I leaned closer, pitching my voice low. "Another friend ?"
The muscle in his jaw relaxed, and one corner of his mouth lifted. "Former friend ."
"Hard to keep up with," I muttered.
There was lots of grunting as the four men greeted each other while Hannah and Sam rolled their eyes. "How about that dance?" Justin asked.
"Sure." Justin's fingers closed around mine, cool and confident, as he swept me onto the dance floor. His movements were liquid silk, each step precise and measured, while I counted beats in my head and prayed I wouldn’t step on his toes. He compensated for my wooden steps with subtle pressure from his palm, steering me clear of other couples like a master puppeteer with a particularly clumsy marionette.
"Mind if I cut in, love?" Liam swayed on his feet, his Irish lilt more pronounced with each glass of champagne. Justin rolled his eyes but released my hand, stepping back with an exaggerated bow. Liam caught me with more enthusiasm than grace, his steps following a rhythm only he could hear.
"My turn." Nick materialized beside us, smooth as smoke. His arm slipped around my waist, drawing me against him before Liam could protest. Where the others had kept a polite distance, Nick's body curved around mine like he was shielding me from the room.
Nick's touch was different—less choreographed, more instinctive. Heat bloomed where his fingers traced patterns on my bare back, each caress drawing us closer until the space between us crackled with possibility. "You look beautiful tonight," he whispered, his breath warming my ear. For once, my usual anxiety didn't surface; instead, my body melted into his lead as his hand drifted lower, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. The rest of the room faded to a distant blur of light and sound.
Leaning into me, I felt his mouth briskly brush my jawline and settle on my neck.
"What are you doing?" Hannah's voice sounded behind me. And that was when everything went wrong. I panicked and tripped over Nick's foot. To catch me, Nick tripped the couple next to us, and we all went tumbling down. The only ones left standing were Hannah and Liam.
"I. Was. Copping. A. feel," Liam replied slowly to Hannah's question as they watched the domino effect of Hurricane Olivia.
The crash of bodies felt like my world collapsing in slow motion. Champagne glasses toppled. Someone gasped. A flash went off—someone's camera phone capturing my humiliation for posterity.
And then came the ripping sound.
The cool air against my back told me everything I needed to know. I froze, unable to move, unable to breathe, as conversations around us stuttered into silence.
All night, I'd been balancing on a knife's edge between belonging and chaos. Now here it was—the inevitable fall I'd been bracing for since arriving.
Nick was beside me in an instant, his expression unreadable. But what twisted in my chest wasn't just embarrassment—it was the memory of how he'd looked at me moments before.
Now I'd proven what I'd feared all along: I didn't belong in his world.
"Here," he murmured, slipping his jacket around my shoulders. His fingers brushed against my skin as he adjusted the collar, careful to cover the tear. The gesture was so gentle it made my throat tighten.
He kept one hand at the small of my back as he guided me toward the exit, his other hand already pressing his phone to his ear. "James? We need the car. Now.”
I kept my eyes on the marble floor, counting each step toward escape.
"The driver is waiting outside." Nick’s voice was steady despite the whispers trailing behind us
Hannah materialized from the crowd, concern etched across her face. "Are you okay?"
I pressed my palms against my burning cheeks. "I'm fine."
Nick's phone glowed in the darkness as his thumb flew over the keys. "Hannah, Olivia's leaving." His other hand hovered at my elbow, not quite touching. "Do you need a ride?"
Hannah gathered her wrap and clutch, already moving toward the exit. "Yeah, I'll go with her and get my car at your place." Her heels clicked against marble as we moved quickly toward the exit.