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“There’s a big charity gala tonight that’s being hosted by one of our biggest donors, Gloria Van Toth… Yes, the fashion designer… She requested a few of the players attend. I’d like you to go, too. Capture some candid photos, get some quotes from the guests. Maybe do a live post from the party.”
I hesitate a beat. Julia appears in the doorway to my office, cradling her cordless phone on her shoulder, clearly eavesdropping. “Open Mind,” she mouths as she shoots me a pointed glare.
“Of course!” I say. “What time does it start?”
“Six. Black tie.”
When I hang up, Jules fixes her eyes on me. “This is perfect. You’ll be at a gala, in a social setting. It’s the perfect chance for you to pull Nathan aside and tell him the truth.”
My laugh is somewhat hysterical. “No, it’s not. That’s the worst possible time to tell him. For one, we are working. For two, it will ruin his night, and mine. Nathan and I don’t have a great track record when it comes to formal wear.”
“Well, you have to tell him eventually!”
“Do I? As long as Rory and he don’t cross paths, I don’t see why he needs to know anything.”
Jules shakes her head, looking disappointed. I don’t blame her. I’m pretty disappointed with myself. “The longer you wait, the worse it will be.”
I hate it when she’s right.
CHAPTER 4
Nathan
The annual Dallas Cowboys Foundation Gala is being held at a house that looks like the White House and surely belongs to a Senator. These donor galas are nowhere near as fun as the name makes them sound.
Let’s just say you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. It’s a lot of hors d’oeuvres with names you can’t pronounce, all served with a side of ass-kissing. I’ve been here ten minutes and already had my privacy invaded by three reporters and been felt up by an old, married, heiress.
My opinion of this gala, however, infinitely improves the moment I spot Isabella in the crowd. My breath seizes as I take in the floor-length dress she’s wearing. Emerald green fabric falls off her shoulders, held up by pure sorcery, and it hugs her curves all the way down. She has a whole Jessica Rabbit vibe going with her auburn hair in Old Hollywood waves down to her elbow. It is without question the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. That’s the thing about Izzy, though, she’s always been drop-dead gorgeous, but she has no clue…or she just doesn’t care about vapid things like that, and it sets her apart.
These dress pants aren’t as forgiving as I’d like given the fact that I have to adjust the way I’m standing just from one glance at Izzy. She’s talking with Daryl, one of our linebackers. I know I have nothing to be jealous of, Isabella Rossi is many things, but mine has never been one of them. Yet, even the sight of her laughing politely at another man makes me twitch.
Before I can stop myself, I’m over there, standing next to her, a bit closer than needed. Daryl notices.
“Hey, man,” Daryl says. “Have you tried the signature cocktail?”
Chett sidles up and sticks out his hand. “Lila introduced you to the team, but I wanted to personally meet you.” As he shakes Izzy’s hand, recognition dawns on his face. “Wait… I remember you. Isabella Rossi, right? You went to our high school.”
Izzy laughs nervously, as she tucks a wave of auburn hair behind her ear. “Did I? That feels like a lifetime ago.”
Chett smacks my arm. “Weren’t you like best friends with her brother?”
“He was,” Izzy answers for me.
I’ve had about enough of strolling down memory lane, plus it’s only a matter of time before something comes out of Chett’s mouth that I can’t charm my way out of. I wasn’t exactly a saint in high school.
I take Izzy’s hand and whisk her away. “You look like you could use a drink. Come with me.”
Izzy balks at me, hazel eyes aflame as she removes her hand from mine. “Where I come from, a gentleman asks a lady if she’d like a drink. He doesn’t command her.”
“No one’s commanding… I just didn’t like the way Chett was looking at you,” I say without breaking stride toward the terrace. “Come on, we both know you’d rather be drinking with me any day.”
A little smirk appears at the corners of her painted-red lips, which is a welcome change from the outright hostility she’s been showing. “Are you jealous, Sterling?”
I shrug. “Maybe.” Izzy doesn't say anything to that, but she accepts the champagne flute I swipe from one of the server's trays, and sips it while I lead her onto the moonlit terrace. It’s less crowded out here, only a few people are gathered at a few scattered bar-height tables. Maybe we can actually talk out here. Get to know each other now that we’re seven years removed from prom night.
I lead Izzy toward the railing where the terrace looks out over a lavish pool and lean my forearms on the railing. I dragged her out here, but I hadn’t really thought through why. I just wanted to have her all to myself. Now that we’re here, I’m not sure what to say.
The silence is fraught with tension, so I smile and try to keep my tone light and playful. "So… what have you been up to since I saw you last?"Since you hightailed it out of town without so much as a goodbye? That’s what I want to say, but don't, because she's being relatively pleasant and I don't want to rock the boat.
