Chapter 43
JULES
Istare around at the high ceilings and Roman-style pillars of the elegant ballroom, and my thoughts are doing acrobatics inside my head.
My tattoos. Oh my god. I should have covered up my tattoos. I should have picked out a dress with long sleeves and a turtleneck to cover my tattoos.
And is my hair okay? Should I have worn it straight instead of doing these barrel curls? Should I have forced my short strands into a chic updo? Or maybe I should have gotten some clip-in extensions? Hell—should I have just shaved my head bald and stayed home?
All of a sudden, everything about me feels absolutely inadequate. After my years spent mastering the Lannister family dinners, I thought I was an expert at deflecting elitist vibes. But this charity gala is ten times worse than what I’m used to.
I watch the elegant couples chitchatting and fake-laughing at the tables spread out across the room. There are billionaires here. Beauty queens. I even heard someone whispering that the king and queen of Ridgeland are somewhere in the crowd.
Across the room, I can see my half-sister, Hilary.
She looks like a Barbie in that pink princess gown.
She’s chatting with a few of her friends.
On more than one occasion, I’ve looked up only to find them whispering and giggling about me.
It’s clear that I’m on their turf, and they’ll do anything in their power to make sure I’m as uncomfortable as possible all night.
It only makes my insecurities scream louder.
I don’t like myself when I get like this.
I don’t like the version of me that gets tense and uneasy in my own skin. She hardly ever rears her head in public these days, but when she does, she’s such a damn bitch.
My body language must be a dead giveaway of my inner thoughts, because Lincoln’s hand finds mine under the table and he leans in by my ear. “Don’t do that…” he whispers.
I smooth a hand over my hair, worried that I’m getting everything all wrong. Good etiquette was never my strong suit. “What am I doing?” I whisper back as I try to maintain a steady tone.
“Don’t make yourself small for the sake of these rich assholes,” he responds.
When I meet his eyes, he gives me a soft stare that radiates protectiveness.
I try to brush off his worry. But my dismissive laugh comes out more like a trapped animal wheezing for air. “I’m not making myself small for anyone,” I say defiantly.
“Babe, your shoulders are hunched up to your ears and you haven’t taken a full breath since we left the car.”
Around our table, Lincoln’s associates are comparing yachts and debating investment strategies. Yet my husband’s attention is trained solely on me. Something about that makes me tingle from head to toe.
I want to lie. I want to tell him that he’s imagining things. But I take one look at the genuine concern on his face, and I can’t.
He stretches a hand out in my direction, rising to his feet. He addresses his business associates. “If you’ll excuse me, I just can’t wait another minute to dance with my beautiful wife.”
I let him lead me to the middle of the room and take me into his arms. He brushes my bangs away from my eyes and we start to sway to the music. “Tell me what’s wrong.” he demands softly.
“I’m starting to think this was a bad idea…” I admit. “You should have come here alone.”
He tilts his head to the side, staring at me from under a crinkled brow. “And why would you say that?”
I glance down at the black chiffon and lace dress I’m wearing, with its tiered hem and its tie straps.
It looks like I robbed it right out of Wednesday Addams’s closet.
Meanwhile, every other woman here is dressed to the nines, shimmery pastel-colored designer gowns tailored to their perfect bodies.
“It’s just…my tattoos and…I should have done my hair differently…or I don’t know…I…”
“Jules, stop it,” he growls.
I shake my head. “I should have stayed home. What if I mess up your chances with your business partners? I just don’t want to embarrass you in front of all these important people.”
Lincoln immediately stops moving. “I’m offended that you’d even think that.” Lowering his face to mine, he cups both of my cheeks in those massive hands of his. “You are my wife. Where I go, you go.”
I force a laugh. “Well, that’s a little misogynistic. Don’t you think?”
He smirks. “Misogynistic? Baby, I’d follow you around town on my hands and knees if you asked me to, and you know it.
” He strokes my cheek with his knuckle. “The point is, if you’re not welcome somewhere, I’m not going.
Simple as that. No fucking compromise. Now, can we please enjoy the rest of our evening? ”
Wow. This man is getting really good at making my heart pitter patter.
I stare up at him from under my lashes, my lips pulling into an involuntary smile. “Yes.”
He loops an arm around my back, possessively pulling my body up against his. Once more, he begins to sway.
“And just for the record, none of these people are more important than you. You are smart. You are resilient. You are one of a kind. And of the four billion women walking the face of this planet, you are the most gorgeous one. I want the whole damn world to know that you’re mine.”
“You make me feel safe, Lincoln Raines. I’m not used to feeling this way.”
“As long as you’re with me, you are safe. You know that, right?”
I nod wordlessly as my silent emotions choke me.
My husband drops his lips to mine, warping my brain with one little nibble and then another. He pulls back with a smile.
He’s so handsome in that tux. For a few blissful moments, his beauty completely distracts me from all my insecurities. My hands travel up his chest to loop around the back of his neck and I tug on the ends of his hair.
When his erection moves against my belly, he lets out a gravelly chuckle. “Careful, darling. I’m about to burst through the seam of my pants if you keep pulling my hair like that.”
I laugh, too. “Sorry. I’ll behave.”
“Don’t you dare apologize for being who you are.” He unravels his arms from around me and weaves our fingers together. “Come. Let’s find our seats.”
As we’re heading back, I notice a gorgeous couple now standing near our table. Carol and Abigail spot us and excitedly waves us over.
“Hello again, you two.” Nadia Westbrook smiles at us.
Her hair is pulled into a low bun that accentuates her neck and shoulders. She wears a coppery dress that shows off her curves and perfectly compliments her golden brown skin. She looks regal.
“Nadia, great to see you again,” Lincoln says before turning to the woman’s husband. “Westbrook. How’s the off-season treating you?”
The striking giant of a man shakes hands with my husband. “Can’t wait for training camp, man. We’re ready to take it all the way to the championship this season.”
“I love to hear it.” Lincoln nods.
With an arm proudly wrapped around my waist, he introduces me to Harry Westbrook and we shake hands.
Then Nadia turns to me with excitement in her eyes. “At the community center earlier, Lincoln was telling me that you own a T-shirt design company?”
Surprised, I glance at Lincoln. He gives me a nod.
“I-I do…” I say, returning my focus to Nadia.
She smiles. “That’s great. Listen—I’m planning some events for the seniors at the community center, and I was wondering if I could maybe make a bulk order.”
“A b-bulk order?” I echo. “Have you seen my designs?” The messages on my T-shirts aren’t exactly PG.
“We showed her your online shop.” Greta beams at me with a grin that shows off at least fifty gleaming teeth.
Carol holds up her phone, and I see my website open on her screen.
These women did that? For me?
“The sassy broads in the seniors group will love these shirts,” Nadia says with enthusiasm.
“I, wow, yes, wonderful.” Is this happening? Is this really happening? For me? For my business?
Nadia bobs her head. “Here’s my card. Give me a call next week?”
“Of course.” My hand is shaking as I take the card from her.
“Well, thank you all again for attending tonight’s gala,” Harry addresses the table. “Because of your generosity, the event was a huge success.”
Nadia smiles broadly. “Enjoy the rest of the evening, everyone.” She pats my shoulder. “Looking forward to hearing from you, Jules.”
“Definitely. Definitely, I’ll give you a call on Monday,” I say, not even bothering to hide my eagerness.
Harry offers her his arm and they turn to walk away. At the last second, Nadia looks at me again. “And killer dress by the way.” She winks.
I stutter again. “T-thanks. Yours, too.”
I’m using all of my power to keep my jaw from falling to the floor as I watch them walk away.
I feel Lincoln’s hands on my hips when he comes up from behind me. He whispers by my ear. “See? Told ya you’re a badass.”