She should tell him. About Franco and Dominic.
About everything.
But Brooks would kill Dominic if she did. He’d get himself in trouble. And if he didn't, then Dominic would kill Brooks.
"I just hate the idea of being there without you. Please, come with me. I'll make sure nothing goes wrong. Promise." He held the dress out toward her and she stared at the moving water of the silk.
He'd be with her. And so would Franco. It was a public place filled with thousands of celebrities and important people. The security was sure to be top-notch.
And if she didn't go...
Well, wouldn't that be giving him even more power over her?
She took the dress and Brooks grinned at her.
"You're going to look incredible. You always do."
"Thanks." She nodded, and then disappeared into her bedroom before she lost her resolve.
* * *
Natalie glided through the crowd like a well-practiced heiress, stopping every now and then for a photographer or a cameraman. If he'd been nervous about her not fitting in, well, he'd been dead wrong.
It felt like every few feet someone was calling to her, waving them over and cooing about how they hadn't seen her in ages. They'd missed her so much. Her sense of humor had been such a breath of fresh air to Insert Some Society or Another.
She always smiled and laughed, held the old women's hands as they talked to her, though somehow she never managed to look them in the eye.
All the while, too, she hadn't so much as glanced in Brooks' direction.
If someone would ask about him, standing there lingering behind her, she'd say that he was her boss.
Her boss.
And they would giggle about how she'd found a job and how strange that must be for her. Or they'd cast a judging look and say they were sorry for her predicament.
Regardless, the word "date" was never once breathed in the entire hour it took them to get to the Opera House doors, and when they stepped through and he tried to place his hand on the small of her back, she twitched away.
"What's going on, here? I thought you knew—"
She shook her head. "You just surprised me. I'm sorry, I'm, um, a little on edge."
"Okay."
"Let's get some drinks, all right?" She cut through to the bar, still careful to stay a league ahead of him the entire time.
What the hell? He grit his teeth, waiting as she ordered their drinks, wondering if she'd bother to stand beside him as she worked on hers.
Still, he didn't want to push her.
This was progress. Two hours ago, she'd still been determined not to come with him tonight. If she was nervous about being seen together—whether it was because of her old society friends or because of the people at the office—he'd have to respect that.
He guessed.
And he'd just have to grin and bare it until she relaxed a little.
His nerves were set aside momentarily as she sidled up beside him with her melon ball in hand. She handed him his vodka cranberry with a wink.
"Thanks." He said.