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He looked amazing, wearing Armani with the ease of a man whose body was built to elevate a designer tux. He was a black hole to my senses, changing my trajectory, consuming the room, and pulling on me as if demanding an event horizon.
My body so wanted to give it to him.
“Ms. Astor?” Micah took my elbow.
Ahead, at the end of the foyer, a purple carpet led straight to the podium centered on the stage. A sudden case of stagefright had me clasping my hands, but the butterflies fluttering in my stomach—those I blamed on Dash.
Knowing he was livid with me, I took a step forward then paused. I blinked and Micah stepped away. Instead of him, Dash stood to my right.
“You look beautiful,” he murmured.
“Thanks.” Did I have a prayer tonight? “You look beautiful yourself.”
His lips twitched, but he denied me a full smile.
“Put these on.” He slid a pair of black satin gloves from his pocket. Before I could ask, he explained. “It’s just an extra layer of protection.”
He was afraid of someone poisoning me through touch. I pulled on the gloves, but I couldn’t contain a shiver.
“It’s all right.” He took my hand and settled it on his forearm. “You’ll be all right.”
With that, he led me into the room and walked the full length of the carpet with me.
I didn’t know what to think. Gone was yesterday’s enraged and glacial creature. In was the attentive, sexy gentleman I remembered so well. As I smiled and nodded at the crowd that stood up to clap, I tamped down my expectations. Just because he was playing his part to perfection didn’t mean he’d forgiven me. We walked down the long aisle like a bride and a groom, but it didn’t mean we had a future together. And yet, according to my recently hatched plan, it was a good start to the night.
Chapter Fourteen
Thena
“You are the most fashionable woman in the room tonight,” Paolo proclaimed, smashing his small hands together in silent clapping. My second assistant believed he was a fashionista himself. He stood to my right, wearing a gold velvet tuxedo that made him look like a cross between a chicken nugget and a munchkin from the Wizard of Oz. “You look so classy, so you, in a Michelle Pfeifer meets Jackie O style. Those gloves. They’re a stroke of fashion genius.”
If he only knew. I had nothing to do with the gloves, but they did come in handy as I shook hands with global royalty. My cheeks ached from sustaining what I hoped was a welcoming smile. My feet throbbed in my high heels, and I was bored beyond belief.
My senior assistant, Monique, stood at my other side, whispering the names of the guests about to greet me. Having done the same for my father for over thirty years, she remembered every face and name. Micah hovered behind me, rocking a Mandarin collar tux, looking even less friendly than usual, scrutinizing every person who approached me with the intensity of a lion about to pounce. Surrounded by him, Monique, and Paolo, I felt like I had three bodyguards glued to me.
“Uncle Arthur!” I grinned when my dad’s only brother—and one of my favorite people in the world—came through the greeting line. Defying Micah’s displeased frown, I gave him a hug. “I didn’t expect to see you here. It’s wonderful of you to come.”
“My dear Thena.” He stamped an affectionate kiss on my cheek. “Of course I had to come. You know I’m your greatestsupporter. After I got stuck in Haiti and missed your father’s funeral, I felt I had to be here to support you. And this, this is all about our dear Nix.” He raised a hand and gestured all around us, his small, crinkly eyes twinkling with wonder.
Uncle Arthur had always been a polar opposite of my dad. The life-long bachelor was kind and sweet, a preacher, devoted to doing good. He lived in the small town where the brothers had been born and resided in the same humble bungalow where they’d grown up. He lived off a small stipend drawn from the Astor Trust Fund that my father insisted he accept, helped anyone in need that came his way, and kept a grueling traveling schedule to support his ministries in orphanages, hospitals, and schools around the world.
He’d always been a doting uncle. He’d visited us often when we were kids. He read us books, told us stories, took us to the movies, things my father was too busy to do. He used to drive up to the ranch with the trunk of his car loaded with presents from the dollar store. We adored him.
“Even though you missed our meeting,” he said, “I stuck around for the benefit.”
“I’m glad you did.” I hugged him again. “I’m so sorry we couldn’t meet about your proposal to fund an orphanage in Guatemala. Something came up.”
“Monique told me.” He took my gloved hand and patted it kindly. “No apologies necessary. I know how hard you work. In fact, if you don’t mind me saying, you’re looking a little too thin since the last time I saw you.”
“Stress, work.” I dismissed his concerns with a wave. “You know the drill.”
“Will I get to spend some time with my favorite niece before I leave the city?” he asked.
“Not this time.” I squeezed his chubby hands. “How about I dial you up next week and we catch up?”
“Sounds good.” His double chin shook as he nodded then looked around. “What about your sisters? I haven’t seen them since Nix passed. Are they here?”
“They couldn’t come,” I lied. “They’re all very busy with their projects.”
