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“Holy shit,” he breathed.
I smiled, suddenly warm. “You clean up pretty well yourself, Blackwell.”
He shook his head slowly, still staring. “Darcy, you look… I don’t even have words. Incredible doesn’t cover it.”
“Careful, counselor. A lawyer without words is very dangerous.”
He laughed, and the sound sent a shiver down my spine. It wrapped around me like a physical thing. I told myself it was just the corset of my dress making it hard to breathe. The boning was tight, after all. Very restrictive.
No. That was a lie, and I knew it.
It was all Beau. The way he looked at me. It was getting harder to deny the effect he had on me.
“A fox,” I said, gesturing to his mask as I walked toward the limo. “Interesting choice.”
“You like it?”
“It’s very you.”
His lips quirked. “How so?”
“Foxes are sneaky. Clever. Subtle.” I tilted my head, pretending to consider. “Actually, wait. That’s nothing like you at all. You’re about as subtle as a sledgehammer.”
He laughed again, that same warm sound that made butterflies take flight in my belly. “I prefer to think of myself as charmingly direct.”
“You would.”
I slid into the back of the limo, careful not to wrinkle my dress. The interior was all black leather and soft lighting, with a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket and two glasses waiting on a small table.
Beau climbed in beside me, and the driver pulled away from my house.
“Champagne?” he asked, reaching for the bottle.
“Please.”
“I thought about stopping for a six pack but didn’t think you’d want to show up for your big night with beer breath.”
I smiled. “Good thinking.”
He poured two glasses and handed one to me. I felt that spark again. That electric current that seemed to arc between us whenever we touched.
I took a sip, letting the bubbles fizz against my tongue. The champagne was excellent, dry and crisp with just a hint of sweetness.
“Are you nervous?” Beau asked.
I considered the question. A week ago, the answer would have been an emphatic yes. The thought of walking into a room full of elite clients and investors, all of them watching and judging, would have had my stomach in knots.
But tonight felt different.
“No,” I said, surprising myself with how much I meant it. “The mask weirdly helps. It’s like permission to be someone else for a night. Someone braver.”
“You don’t need a mask to be brave, Darcy.”
“Thank you,” I said quietly.
My pulse accelerated when our limo fell in line with many others outside one of the luxury hotels in the city. It wasn’t fear. It was anticipation.
The limo pulled up to the entrance. Through the tinted windows, I could see photographers lining the red carpet, their cameras already flashing as guests made their way inside.
