Mine to Hold (Mine 3)

Sure, the men were in perfectly cut tuxes and the women wore glittering gowns, but Claire could see the avid gleam in their eyes and—

“Noah York…” A redhead murmured as her lips rose in a smile that never met her eyes.

“Jennifer.” He inclined his head.

“Are the rumors true?” she asked. Then Jennifer directed her stare at Claire. “Are you the infamous Claire Kramer?”

“Jennifer Swan sort of…manages the main gossip pages in town,” Noah said to Claire as his finger stroked down her arm. “And, baby, being called ‘infamous’ is a good thing.”

Wait, had he just called Claire ‘baby’ in front of all those people?

“Then the stories about the two of you being an item are true?” Jennifer demanded as she inched closer. “Interesting. Claire, how do you feel about—”

“Claire’s my fiancée,” Noah said, and his voice seemed to carry all the way across the ballroom. “So, yes, Jennifer, we’re an item.” He gave the group of reporters a wide smile. “And feel free to print that in the papers.”

Cameras flashed then.

“Smile, Claire,” Noah whispered. His lips brushed over her ear. She felt the sensual lick of his tongue against her.

Claire smiled.

And, just like that, with his one, earth-shattering announcement, she and Noah were the center of attention in that ballroom. Everyone was looking at them.

Some people were smiling. Some were whispering.

Claire wanted to vanish.

The crowd closed in tighter.

Noah climbed up a few steps, pulling her back up with him. Then Janelle was there—and she had a microphone in her hand. She offered it to Noah.

Noah planned this.

Now Claire knew why he’d wanted her to wear the perfect dress. His fiancée had to be perfect.

“On the first anniversary of this hotel…” Noah sounded so smooth and polished as he addressed the crowd around them. “It only seems fitting that I get to share news that has made me the happiest man on earth.”

Liar, liar. She hated it when Noah lied.

He lifted her hand into the air. The blue diamonds around her wrist caught the light and seemed to shine even brighter. “Claire Kramer has just consented to be my wife.”

Applause shook the ballroom.

Noah laughed. “And I want you all to celebrate with us. Bring out the champagne!”

And, at his order, the champagne flowed. As if they’d been waiting for that cue—and Claire suspected they had—waiters bustled out with dozens and dozens of champagne flutes. The champagne was distributed quickly.

She even found a flute placed in her hand.

Dazed, Claire’s gaze shot around the room. She saw Drake in the back, leaning against a broad, white column. Like pretty much everyone else, he had a champagne flute in his hand. He lifted it toward her.

Trace Weston stood beside him. Trace had his hand around Skye’s shoulders. Skye stared back at Claire. Did the other woman looked worried?

Do I look terrified? Because Claire sure felt that way.

Everyone was lifting up their flutes as they toasted to her and Noah. Noah had freed her hand when he took his own flute of champagne.

He offered her a grin. “To my future wife,” Noah said, the microphone catching every word he uttered. “Claire, I always want you to be mine.”

Their glasses touched lightly, and she knew what he’d just done.

The reporters. The people. The public display.

The killer had gone quiet, and Noah thought to draw him out again with show.

“Always mine,” Noah whispered and his lips took hers.

***

Claire was running, and she knew it. Noah was surrounded by a throng of well-wishers, and it had been hard, but Claire had managed to slip away from the crowd.

And she was now dashing for the exit as quickly as she could.

“You didn’t tell me you were planning to marry Noah.” Skye slipped into Claire’s path. She was smiling, but her eyes flickered with concern. “Congratulations. I hope you’ll be—”

Claire caught Skye’s hands. She brought her in close, as if she were hugging the other woman. “I didn’t know this was going to happen. He never asked me to marry him. This is all some plan of his.”

A plan that was ripping her apart. Noah didn’t know how long she’d actually dreamed of having a life, a husband who loved her.

He didn’t know how hard it had been for her to stand there while he pretended they were the perfect couple.

She eased back from Skye, but made sure to keep that terrible, fake smile on her face. In case others were watching. And they were.

Skye’s gaze searched hers. “What plan?” Skye whispered.

“He’s putting us in the spotlight. I think he wants the killer to come at him again.”

“So Noah can catch the guy.” Skye was gorgeous in a black dress that fit her like a glove. “But he’s pulled you into the cross-fire, too.” Anger roughened her words.

“I was always in the fire.” That danger was nothing new. She’d been hunted since she was sixteen, in one way or another.

She eased away from Skye. “I just…I need to be alone for a few minutes.” Then she’d get her control back. She’d stop feeling as if she were about to break apart. But when Claire looked around the ballroom, she saw Trace striding toward them. And Noah had pulled free of his throng and he was closing in, too.

“Buy me just a few minutes,” Claire said.

Skye nodded.

Claire rushed for the doors. A few more steps, and she’d head outside and be able to breathe for a bit. She’d suck in some air on the balcony, pretend that everything was fine, and she’d be okay.

But she didn’t make it to the balcony. A man’s hand snaked out and caught her arm, and Claire opened her mouth to scream.

“No need for that,” Drake said as his hold tightened around her. “You know you’re safe with me.”

He pulled her behind one of the huge, towering columns that lined the outskirts of the ballroom. He caged her against that column, and he lifted her left hand. “There’s no ring here.”

“No.”