Hayes
nineteen
I’m straightening my cuffs and preparing to put on my tux jacket when Lindee, the makeup artist who’s spent the last two hours with Paige, comes down the stairs.
I rush to help her with her big bag that I can only assume holds the entirety of a makeup store inside with how heavy it is.
Fucking hell, how does she cart that thing around on a regular basis?
I set her bag down in the wide-open foyer once I have it down the stairs.
I smile as I open the front door to an empty doorstep, thinking of Garrison Daniels being escorted off my property by the Atlanta PD.
It was amazing to watch Paige dress down that dirtbag in her sweet, genteel way.
Even when she’s hoppin’ mad and fed up with people, she’s still polite.
She seemed lighter and more confident when he was gone, a change having settled over her after standing up for herself and accepting whatever fate came of it because it was what she wanted, for once.
“Thank you for coming at such short notice.”
“Paige really saved my butt after I had a cancellation, so it’s me who’s thankful,” she responds, brushing short black hair behind her ears. “Would you mind if I waited for your reaction? She looks so good I want to see your face when she comes down.”
I laugh, but the uncomfortable, unfamiliar feeling of nervousness sets in, and I look at the stairs like they’re the gateway to heaven. They are, in a way. Paige is every bit a celestial being of beauty and goodness, so it fits.
“Yeah, of course. Can I get you something to drink while you wait?”
She shakes her head. “No, thanks, she’s not going to take long.”
As if on cue, I hear the unmistakable sound of a stiletto hitting the stairs and I turn expectantly, my palms sweaty.
With the way the stairs make two turns, it takes a moment to catch the first sight of Paige’s slender ankles—that I have some new fetish for—come into view with slim black heels emphasizing her high arches and perfect little toes.
I swallow hard from just her damn feet alone and know Lindee wasn’t messing around when she wanted to watch my reaction.
The hem of a glittery red dress brushes the step behind her feet as she descends carefully, and I already know I’m going to have a hell of a time not slinging her over my shoulder and finding an appropriate surface to lay her out on with the striking color and slinky elegance of the fabric.
The matchsticks of her heels alone make me want to rush up the stairs and scoop her into my arms to avoid a potential fall, but she’s the epitome of Southern grace as she expertly navigates the stairs.
Of course she is. My girl is a Southern goddess.
Paige rounds the second landing and I see her in all her glory.
The lights reflect off the sparkles of the red gown that follows every luscious curve of her body, the front hem slit to mid-thigh on one side so every other step exposes her long, toned leg beautifully.
I continue my appraisal higher, loving the way the fabric stretches over her hips and exaggerates her small waist, giving her an incredible hourglass shape.
The top is draped low so just a hint of her cleavage is evident while being sexier than a full-on tit show.
The thin straps disappear over her shoulders and, I’m sure, continue to the back of the dress somewhere I’ll need to explore with my mouth before the night is up.
Her full lips are painted the same red she wore to her Debutante Ball and her face is expertly shaded so her cheekbones are radiantly enhanced and her eyes smolder in sparkly eyeshadows that make them look twice as big even with the thick, dark lashes that have been added.
Her clear green eyes catch the light even more than her dress, dancing in mirth as she catches my stare.
I bite my lip as I take it all in. Her softly waved hair is brushed tightly behind one ear while loose and voluminous everywhere else, looking so silky I want to run my fingers through it now.
I open my mouth to compliment her, but I’m at a loss for the words that would adequately describe just how stunning she truly is.
“Wow,” I breathe instead, because that’s all I can manage. A lifetime of speaking and advanced degrees couldn’t have prepared me for this moment.
Lindee claps excitedly beside me, but I don’t look her way. Instead, I pull out my money clip, peel off several hundreds, and hold them in her direction.
“What? No! Paige already paid me,” she refuses.
“Take it. This is worth every penny and far more because that gorgeous woman still looks like the girl I adore under that incredible smoke show.”
Lindee laughs and takes the cash. “If you say so. She’s stunning, right?”
I just nod, still enraptured with Paige as she smiles timidly at me.
“What do you think?” Paige asks, doing a slow twirl in front of me that shows off her backside, the dress open to mid-back and her ass looks like a perfect peach. My hands strain, like my dick, and I want to cup that luscious ass and do some nasty shit to her.
“I think I need to throw you over my damn shoulder and march you right back upstairs so no other man can get a look at this perfection.” I’m so close to doing just that. No one else deserves to see Paige looking this smoking hot. I’m likely to end up punching anyone who dares.
“Then you’d miss the launch of your new business. Not happening, boss.”
Fuck the launch. I just want her. My hands move to her hips without my acknowledgment, and I hold her for a second.
“That red lipstick was a good choice. I don’t want to mess up Lindee’s work, so I’m going to have to refrain from kissing the ever-living hell out of you.”
“That’s my cue,” Lindee says, opening the door wider and letting herself out. “Awesome dog, by the way. He was such a good assistant. He even let me dust his face with a makeup brush. Seemed to like it, too,” she says with a laugh as she closes the door.
“Where is Cerberus?” I ask, looking for Paige’s trusty shadow.
“I told him to wait and he’s being a good boy,” she says, looking back up the stairs. “Cerberus, come,” she calls.
The big dog sprints down the stairs and slides across the slick floor to us.
Paige bends down and places a kiss just above his eyes and rubs his ears while he pants happily.
I didn’t realize I could be so jealous of a dog.
I shake my head in amusement. Any woman who can win over my ferocious dog so thoroughly is one I never want to give up.
“You ready?” I ask.
I’d say fuck it and peel the tight dress off her body and have my way with her, but duty calls and I guess she does deserve to be shown off with how amazing she looks. I’ll just have to keep my hands to myself.
“I’m ready if you are,” she says with a smoldering look, and my heart and balls tighten simultaneously.
Fucking hell. This woman is perfect.
I hand my Mercedes over to the valet and extend my arm for Paige as we walk up to the event space.
I’m dismayed to see the line of reporters and camera crews lining the black carpet that stretches to the door with the Underworld Spirits logo splashed on the brightly lit white backdrop behind it.
No one told me there would be a photo op and press like this.
I make a mental note to figure out who slipped up and reprimand them appropriately.
I need to know exactly what I’m walking into, always.
“Hayes,” Paige says my name nervously and I look down to catch her eyeing the press gauntlet we have to walk through.
“You don’t have to answer any of their questions unless you want to. They’re going to take photos of us whether or not we like it, so we should do our best to smile and look like we’re happy to be here at the very least.”
She nods and swallows. “I can do that. But what if they ask about us?”
“I’m okay with telling them we’re dating if you are.” Anticipation rises unexpectedly in my chest, the make-or-break moment taking me by surprise.
She looks up at me and my nerves subside some with the smile she gives me.
“We’re dating. I like that. A lot.”
“Good. It’s the truth, and I like it, too.”
I press a kiss to her smooth cheek and stand up tall.
I have a ravishingly beautiful woman on my arm who just agreed that we’re more than friends.
I haven’t been in a relationship since my twenties, having turned to brief flings as business picked up, but this feels so right.
A relationship with Paige is exactly where I want to be at this stage.
We approach the press vultures and I set my face into what I hope conveys jovial boredom.
“Hayes, is it true you stabbed a man last night?”
My mask of indifference slips a little at the unexpected first question, but I don’t have time to give it much thought, let alone an answer before the questions converge on us.
“Paige! When did you meet Hayes?”
“Mr. Olsen, don’t you think she’s a little young for you?”
“Miss Fairchild, are you moving to Atlanta?”
“Hayes, when did you buy Underworld Spirits?”
“Paige! What about your fiancé back in Savannah? What does he think of your new relationship with Hayes?”
Paige turns at that question, finding the reporter who asked it and smiles while I clench my jaw hard enough to crack teeth.
“You must be mistaken,” she says with a laugh. “I’ve never been engaged, and I assure you, there is no fiancé, nor anyone whose opinion matters, to object to my dating such a proper gentleman.” She turns away from the reporter and faces the others expectantly.
They eat it up, quickly calling more questions at her now that they know she’ll respond.
“Were you scared during the carjacking?”
“Of course. Anyone would be in that situation,” she answers, looking at me. “I’m safe today because of this man’s heroic actions. The world needs more people like Hayes Olsen, but this one’s mine. I’m keeping him.”