“Tickets for tonight were twenty thousand dollars each. But you don’t come for the match. You come to get drunk, and get seen. And that, my dear, is why we’re here.”
No sooner had he finished talking, then the Mayor of New York tapped him on the shoulder. He spun gracefully around, lacing his arm through mine to pull me with him.
“George,” they shook hands warmly, smiling like old friends, “good to see you.”
George. Of course he called the mayor by his first name.
“And you, Nick! You know my wife, Evelyn.”
“Of course.” Nick released me temporarily to kiss the woman on both cheeks. “How’s the redecorating coming along? Did you give Bernardo a call like I told you?”
The woman tilted back her head with a tinkling laugh.
“Oh bless your heart—you remembered!”
“Evelyn is in the process of converting her back parlor into what can best be described as a prohibition-style speakeasy,” Nick whispered conspiratorially into my ear. “Not easy to get all the necessary permits for that. Trust me—I’ve tried.”
She laughed again, patting George indulgently on the chest.
“Well it helps when you’ve got some political connections.”
“I’ll bet.”
“But never mind about me,” she abandoned the men completely, and stepped forward to take my hand, “who is this beautiful creature?”
I blushed as pink as her dress, trying to keep myself together.
“This is Abigail Wilder,” Nick answered, pushing me casually forward. “The woman I’ve been seeing.”
The two of us shook hands in that overly-effusive way women do when one is trying to set the other at ease. Then she turned back to Nick with a glowing smile.
“I hate to say it Nick, but she’s too pretty. Even for you.”
He flashed her a grin, before slipping his arm around my waist.
“Oh—I’m well aware.”
“And so much nicer than all those trashy girls you’re usually with!” Evelyn continued, completely oblivious to the pained look that flashed across Nick’s face. “Honestly, I think she’s the only one who hasn’t tried to grab my husband to take a selfie!”
As Nick died a million deaths, the mayor chuckled softly and stepped forward to take my hand. “You’ll have to excuse my wife. Whenever there’s a development in Nick’s love life, she feels the need to share her uncensored opinion. No matter how inappropriate that might be.”
His wife lifted her hands apologetically, as he gave me a thoughtful frown.
“Abigail Wilder,” he repeated, trying to place the name in memory. “I think I’ve heard of a publicist by that name. Is there any relation?”
I was about to instinctively deny it, but my darling boyfriend quickly intervened.
“They’re one in the same. Abby was my publicist. Still runs a firm uptown.”
My heart skipped a beat, and I flashed Nick a quick look. I was surprised he was being so open about it. I would have thought he’d want to keep that piece of information to himself. Try to pass me off as some kind of heiress who was only working for the experience. Who didn’t really need the money, but was charmed by the novelty of the whole thing.
But Nick was staring at me with a peculiar little smile. One that I’d never seen before. He flashed me a wink when he saw me staring, then squeezed me closer with that same little grin. It was then that I realized something I would have never thought was possible.
He was proud to be seen with me. In this room full of congressmen, actresses, and kings—he felt as though I was the asset. I was the prize.
At a second glance, his smile looked adorably smug.
I dropped my eyes, blinking incredulously at the floor, while both the mayor and his wife exchanged a knowing smile. They’d seen Nick with women before. But never quite like this.