I blinked. He grimaced. On the other side of the partition, Bobby transformed his raspy chuckle into a conveniently-timed cough.
Confidence shattered, I glanced down—trying to think of something to say.
“Uh...thank you. You’re looking rather...cold yourself.”
It wasn’t often that my smooth-talking client couldn’t find his line. It would have been almost funny if it hadn’t been happening to me. The second it did, his eyes snapped shut with an apologetic wince, before he shook his head with a bashful smile.
“I just meant, let’s get you inside and heated up...”
He offered out his hand, and I took it.
“...so I can see what’s under that coat.”
Chapter 8
IT WAS AN EXPERIENCE unlike any I’d had before. And was unlikely to ever have again.
From the second we swept inside, it was like we stepped into another world. One where things like fairytales and glass slippers happened on Tuesday. Where women still dressed like princesses, and men still opened the door. There were violins and ice sculptures, diplomats and kings. A hundred flutes of champagne floated on silver trays—never in the way, always in reach.
But in spite of all the magic around me, I was unable to take my eyes off a single thing.
Nick.
It was one thing to go to these parties as his publicist. It was another thing entirely go on his arm. The world looked different from that angle. Brighter, somehow. Full of possibilities.
But as absorbed as I was with Nick, he was equally absorbed with me.
No matter who was talking to him, he kept his eyes fixed on mine. And no matter how quick and thick the wolves descended, he never let go of my hand.
“Yes, yes—thank you,” he waved off the person trying to summon his attention, “I couldn’t agree more. We’ll talk later, Jim.”
“Who’s that?” I asked, as the man disappeared into the crowd.
“No idea.” Nick grinned. “When I don’t know someone, I call them Jim. Nine times out of ten, I’m right.” I stifled a smile, pleased he’d let me in on another secret, and he gave my hand a little tug. “Come on...time to show you the best room of all.”
Before anyone else could stop us, we breezed out of the ballroom and into the hall. A series of security guards and butlers alike parted ways for us, as we made our way up one small staircase and down another, before ending up in some sort of walk-in closet.
“Here it is.” Nick gestured around in triumph. “The coat room.”
It took me a minute to understand what he was getting at, then my cheeks blushed a delicate shade of pink. My hair, which had been swept half up to trail down my back in little twists and tendrils, spilled in between us—creating a kind of shield.
A pair of warm fingers cut through the center, gently lifting my chin.
“What’s wrong?” Nick asked softly. We were alone—not a person in sight—but he still lowered his voice. “You don’t like the dress?”
My eyes shot up to his in alarm.
“No—it’s not that at all. The dress is just...absurdly beautiful.”
His eyes softened with a smile as he gazed down.
“Then what is it?”
Another wave of nerves trembled through me, as I stared up into his eyes.
“I really don’t want to ruin this for you.”
“Ruin this?” His face lightened in surprise. “Ruin what—the party? How the hell could you possibly—”