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When he just quietly stepped in to hold the punching bag and didn’t correct my posture or my punch, I was so touched. Just overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness and sincerity. I’m pretty sure I gave a little chunk of my heart to the big, brooding bodyguard.
He’s technically a CEO, but he always makes me think that he’s guarding Gabe’s back in case his bestie says something that gets him in trouble.
But Alex is right. He’s not like most men. And I think that’s exactly why I feel so connected to him. Why I’m looking for him at every event I attend. I should have guessed he’d be here tonight. Events like this are great visibility for his business. People in this circle need protection.
For a moment, I debate acting like I’m on a phone call. Or typing out a long text message.
But I decide against both options. After one more look at Kingston’s pictures, I stow my phone back in my bag and glance through the bright green foliage. I straighten my spine because I’m already half a foot shorter than both of them. No need to slouch.
Alexander spots me first.
His chin lifts, and his eyes narrow.
What? You’ve never seen a woman use a potted plant as cover before?
For the life of me, I don’t understand why I feel so... calm when he’s near. It’s like I can breathe a little easier. He doesn’t fill the air with needless chatter. And even though he’s incredibly watchful, I never feel like a bug beneath a microscope.
Is it because the mental gymnastics with Gabriel are the opposite?
With him, I have to be on my A-game. Chin up. Wits, razor sharp. It’s exhausting and exhilarating.
“Miss Montgomery! There you are.”
I turn to see a woman about my mother’s age. She’s got a death grip on the door to my left and waves for me with her other hand.
“You’re up next, dear.”
My stomach sinks like a bowling ball in the Hudson, but I swallow back the nervousness and square my shoulders. She leads me to the ballroom before either man can say a word, and my mind flashes to the horrors of my debutante year.
The nightmare plays on repeat until a few minutes later, I’m beneath the bright lights, fighting wobbly knees, praying I don’t fall off the stage, and staring hard at the back wall so I don’t make eye contact with anyone. It’s been a half-dozen years, but memories of the knots in my stomach and the sneers from onlookers are hard to forget. My skin made my life hell as a teenager.
“Next up,” the woman with the microphone says, “is Katherine Montgomery. Katherine is the daughter of Lucinda Winthrop and Pierce Montgomery. She speaks French, passable Italian?—”
What? My head whips toward her as the audience laughs.
“—attended Magna Vita Prep?—”
My muscles lock up, and my lungs just stop. I know who wrote this intro. I know what’s coming next. And there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
“—was an award-winning debutante at The Deb, as well as an accomplished dancer and pianist.”
There it is. The event I’d do anything to forget. Maybe the stage will cave in and take me with it. Please, universe. I’m begging.
“Katherine graduated from Harvard two years ago and currently works for Chanler and Cort as VP of Relationship Management, and she serves on the board of the Winter-Farmington Foundation, advocating for STEM resources for America’s youth.”
I suck a deep breath through my nose, every cell in my body aware that there are hundreds of pairs of eyes watching me.
Bravo, Mother. Way to make me sound like every other trust fund baby here. Boring. Lifeless. And while nothing in the bio was a lie, it didn’t begin to showcase the real me.
Movement at the very back catches my eye, and I drop my gaze a fraction.
Gabriel is saying something to Alex, but Alex’s attention is firmly on me. Like a laser beam, slicing through the crowd, holding my focus until the rest of the glittering room falls away.
As if she’s far, far away, I hear the woman with the microphone continue. “She’s an expert on fine wine and a patron of the arts. Bidding will begin at five hundred dollars.”
6
KATHERINE
