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My head snaps to his. The grin on his face catches me off guard.
He’s so damn attractive.
“You’re without a doubt going to turn heads.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “I really should have asked to see your dress before tonight.”
“Would you have changed it?” I say, trying to contain my smile.
“Yes. Absolutely, I would have.”
“You don’t like it?”
“Why does your mind always go there? Of course, I like it, and so will every other man and woman there.”
“It’s a good thing we’re just pretending then. Isn’t it?” As soon as the words slip from my mouth, I regret them.
Why do I always find a way to ruin a good moment?
Aiden’s smile drops from his face.
“I guess you’re right.”
Aiden couldn’t have described this event any better. Ostentatious is almost underplaying things.
We’re in a lavish hotel ballroom underneath ten massive chandeliers. Crystal teardrops falling toward the ground, shimmering like diamonds. In the middle of every table is a crystal centerpiece that extends five feet into the air, overflowing with a mix of roses, hydrangeas, orchids, white larkspur, and delphiniums.
A string quartet plays in the corner, filling the room with a classical melody that no one, aside from the few dancing on the dance floor, appears to pay any attention to.
Aiden has been tied up, discussing his take on the Stanley Cup with some congressman that I’m not familiar with. Not that I mind. I’m completely preoccupied with the opulence of the place. It gives me a moment to stare in wonder without any of them recognizing how out of my element I am.
It makes me wonder what things were like for Aiden when he was first introduced to this world. Were his eyes as large as mine? Did he marvel at the money that must’ve gone into putting on this event?
“I apologize for keeping you from your beautiful date, Aiden.” The gray-haired man, dressed in a black tuxedo with a black bow tie, says, offering a smile to me.
“I don’t mind at all,” I say, smiling back. “I’ve been enjoying the music.”
The man offers a slight bow. “Slate, you shouldn’t keep her waiting. Dance.”
Aiden turns to me with a lifted eyebrow. “Would you like to dance, Cassidy?”
No.
“Yes. I’d love to.”
He extends his hand to me, and I place mine in his.
I allow him to walk me to the center of the dance floor, all the while cursing myself for saying yes.
What was I supposed to say? I was caught off guard.
The truth is, I’m a shit dancer. I don’t know how to waltz, or whatever it is these people are currently doing as they move around us effortlessly.
“What’s wrong?”
I lean in so that others won’t overhear. “I…can’t dance. Not like that.”
He lets out a breath. “You’ll be fine. Just allow me to lead.”
When did Aiden Slate learn to dance?
