Incentive (Infidelity Universe)

This is the sixth year I’ve hosted the charity dinner, and I hire teams of people to organize every detail of the event. I only need to show up, give an inspiring speech, and make small talk with my fellow celebrities. I usually dread these kinds of things, but this event is different. Personal. Leveraging my clout and money, I’ve made this annual gala one of the most successful fundraisers in the country.

Pulling myself away from the overzealous swarm of reporters, I try to ignore the dread twisting my insides. If Decker expected me to remove the shawl for the press, the disappointment on his face will rob me of strength.

As I glide up the stairs to the entrance, I lift my head and find the molten brown of his eyes shining with happiness and aimed straight at me. My dread vaporizes, if only for a moment. The night’s just begun. If I’m going to unveil my scars, it makes sense to do it inside, safely away from the vultures. He must be thinking this, too.

It’s a slow journey through the hotel as I’m stopped repeatedly by nosy actresses, who are more interested in the man on my arm than the objective of the charity. Reese wanders off, and I keep Decker moving toward the ballroom, limiting my answers with feigned amusement.

He’s my boyfriend.

He doesn’t model.

Yes, I know he’s unbelievably handsome.

No, you cannot take him home with you.

Decker grins through all the flirting and lingering looks, his hand warm and possessive on my lower back, beneath the fur, directly against my scarred skin. As if I need a reminder of what he wants me to do tonight.

In the ballroom, gowns of every color glitter with jewels in a sea of black tuxedos. We mingle with the rich and famous, sip from champagne flutes, and make our way through the crowd.

“Miss Somerset.”

I turn toward the feminine southern twang, and an authentic smile possesses my lips. “Mrs. Montague. Thank you so much for coming.”

“Wouldn’t miss it, dear.” The older woman presses a warm kiss to my cheek and shifts her huge blue eyes to Decker. “I hoped you would introduce me to your handsome companion.”

“Yes, of course.” I place a hand on his muscular back. “This is Decker Gabrielli. Decker, meet Mrs. Adelaide Montague Fitzgerald.”

Adelaide is one of the few in attendance who’s not in the movie business. But she’s an icon in her own right. The epitome of purebred Southern aristocracy, she’s the tobacco heiress of Montague Corporation and inconceivably wealthy.

She’s also married and a few years older than me, which is why I don’t balk when Decker bows his head to her hand in a gesture I’ve never seen him make before.

Lifting her slender arm, he touches his lips to the bend in her wrist. “It’s a pleasure to make the acquaintance of one of the most beautiful women in the room.”

Oh, he’s really laying on the charm, but he isn’t wrong. Her brown hair coils in a perfect chignon at the base of her skull, baring a delicate unwrinkled face, and the slim fit of her sparkling gown accentuates a trim figure. Her sensual beauty exudes sophistication and grace.

“Thank you, Mr. Gabrielli.” She smiles and winks at me. “He’s delightful.”

“He has his moments.” I smile with her. When he straightens, I say, “Decker, Mrs. Montague is one of the biggest supporters of this charity.”

She donates an ungodly amount of money toward the cause. In the few times I’ve met her, her blue eyes are always bright and alert with intelligence, but I sense something darkly familiar in the depths. She hides it well, but I know what to look for. She’s concealing scars. Perhaps not as corporeal as the ones on my back, but she’s harboring a deep hurt. I feel it in my bones.

“You’re doing a wonderful thing here, Miss Somerset.” She scans the affluent crowd around us. “The initiative to raise awareness on violence against women is needful.” Her voice lowers. “More needful than most people care to admit.”

“Thank you,” I say, pretending not to notice the way her gaze turns inward.

She blinks, clearing her eyes and focusing on Decker. “I understand you ran a successful chain of combat sports schools.”

He jerks his head back, startled. “Yes, ma’am.”

Evidently, Adelaide didn’t need to be introduced to Decker. Given the amount of money she’s sent my way, I’m not surprised she keeps tabs on me, including the man I’m dating.

He stops a passing waiter and exchanges our empty flutes for full ones. “Mrs. Montague?” He offers her a glass of champagne.

“No, thank you.” She laces her fingers together in front of her, eyes on Decker. “Are you interested in re-opening your sports schools? Perhaps similar training but with a different purpose?”

Decker shares a look with me and arches his brow at her. “Yes.”