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And I’m looking out for this life partner, as well as aware I’m being watched.
One thing is I’m not the focus of the local and national rags and blogs. I’ve another scandal that has nothing to do with me—thank goodness—to thank for that.
I catch my mother’s eye and she raises a glass of champagne to me. I offer a tight smile.
Her gaze shifts, her eyebrows rise, and I follow.
Oh. My.
The woman is tall with Rita Hayworth hair, now it’s down, and that body she hides beneath the wrong clothes is to die for. Curves and full and with that mouth painted siren red, Elliot Perry is a knockout.
It’s not even the looks, it’s her attitude.
And she’s heading straight for me.
The lick of lust dies as annoyance rises up instead. She doesn’t trust me, even here, and the hot shimmery black dress that skims those hot curves clings and offers me a view of cleavage I could lose myself in. Or not. I’m ready to battle.
She’s so close now that the effect of hot and confident siren is slammed down to the ground by the slight self-consciousness in her eyes. It should ruin it. It doesn’t. It gives it earthiness. Another layer. Like I’m seeing a secret. And that’s hot all over again.
Does this fucking place come with cold showers?
Elliot stops in front of me. “Ryder.”
“Wha—”
She slaps me.
Whatever I was going to ask is lost in the shock.
The slap doesn’t hurt; she cups her hand in such a way it makes a sound but doesn’t do anything more than send a slight jolt through me that’s almost pleasing. Well, color me all sorts of kink I apparently didn’t know about.
I grab her, sliding and arm around her waist and catching her hand as she raises it again. “What the fuck, Elliot?” I whisper.
“Just make this real.”
“That was real.”
Her gaze is both pleading and irritated. “I didn’t hurt you.”
“Maybe I’m sensitive.”
“And maybe you’re a man baby.”
I offer a small, low smile. “A man baby fuck boy? Now that’s a combination.”
She goes to pull away, but I tighten my grip to stop her, even though I don’t need to. Because her attempt to get away is for show. I’m not that dazzled by her Cinderella transformation to not grasp that. But I want to know what’s up her non-existent sleeves. “Ryder, you’re all over the papers.”
A flash goes off. “And I’m about to be again. This time starring you in the scandal.”
“I lead a very upstanding life!”
“I’m sure you do.”
Her eyes narrow and I’ve insulted her, but I’m not sure how. She isn’t about to be the type with skeletons anywhere and she isn’t a fame and fortune seeker.
“Yes,” she says with a healthy amount of bitterness, “and you should be glad. Now follow my lead. I’m saving your ungrateful ass. Right now you’re explaining Lacey kissed you last night—”
“Blah,” I say. “Blah, blah with added blah. Happy?”
