The four men laugh as they talk, and I watch them for a moment. “Who are they?” I ask.
“They are the naughtiest men in all of England,” Emily whispers. “And the most gorgeous.”
“God,” I whisper as I watch them. I have never seen such handsome men all in one place. All of them are freaking delicious. “You’re not wrong.”
“Spencer Jones is the world’s biggest player.”
“He’s the blond?” I ask.
“That’s him. Ridiculously good looking, isn’t he?”
“The other one is more gorgeous. What’s his name again?” I ask.
“Sebastian Garcia. His marriage just broke up recently.”
“Really? He’s a player too?” I frown.
“No, his wife slept with their gardener.”
“What?” I frown as I look at the beautiful man. He’s tall, dark, and European. “Is she mad?” I gasp.
“Apparently.” She shrugs. “Must be absolutely off her fucking tree,” she mutters.
I giggle, and Emily smiles and clinks her glass with mine. “It’s so good to finally meet you,” she whispers as she again takes my hand in hers.
“Oh, thanks.” I smile. “Thank God you’re normal. I thought you were going to be a supermodel taking selfies all night.”
She bursts out laughing. “Ha. No, that would be Tristan’s ex-girlfriends.”
I cringe. “I don’t really fit the mold, do I?”
“Thankfully not.” She laughs.
I glance over and into the gaze of Tristan in his black dinner suit. His dark wavy hair and square jaw light up the room. He gives me a slow, sexy smile and a wink, and my heart somersaults in my chest.
I’m feeling like the luckiest girl in the world tonight.
He loves me.
Tristan’s fingers trail a circle on my bare shoulder as I sit at the table and talk to Emily. It’s been a great night filled with laughter, handsome men, and intelligent conversation.
Not at all what I expected.
From the corner of my eye I can see Elizabeth watching the two of us together. She hasn’t had to look very hard—Tristan has been all over me all night. He’s most definitely not shy with affection.
“The boys are going to a bar for a few drinks. Do you want to go?” Tristan leans in and whispers.
“Are you going?” I ask as I turn to Emily.
“Apparently.” She smirks into her wineglass. “I’ve had enough champagne for a lifetime . . . but whatever.”
“Me too.” I giggle, but it will be nice to get to know everyone in a not-so-formal setting. “Okay, sure, sounds good.”
We say our goodbyes, and twenty minutes later I find myself outside and waiting on the curb for a limo with Emily, the four Miles brothers, and Spencer Jones.
Everybody has had too much to drink, and we are cackling like schoolgirls. These guys are hilarious.
“Where the fuck is Seb?” Spencer frowns, looking around the crowd as people pour out of the function center.