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“The father?” Ella laughs. “He’s ancient.”
Hazel looks down. “Arthur’s still a handsome man.”
“He seems so stern,” Ella says.
“Very stern. Some women like stern.”
“Hazel, stop.” She sighs. “It doesn’t matter anyway.”
Hazel tilts her head. “Why not?”
“Because none of them would ever look my way in a thousand years.”
My pulse kicks up.
None of them would ever look my way.
Ella in that silver dress.
Ella with her hair pinned halfway up, honey strands falling along her cheeks.
Ella with her guarded smile and too-honest eyes.
She thinks men like me look over women like her, through them, past them, never at them.
She’s wrong.
She’s so wrong.
“And anyway,” Ella continues, “I’m going to be someone else’s date tonight.”
Date.
She’s not Stanley’s fucking date. She’s a dinner companion. Nothing more.
I grit my teeth and clench my hand into a fist, knuckles whitening.
“But,” Ella continues as Matteo pins another section of hair into place, “I’m going to enjoy it.”
Hazel’s brows rise. “Are you?”
“Absolutely. It may be my one night in the sun. I’m going to have an amazing time.”
My cell phone buzzes in my pocket.
Damn.
More shit to get done.
I leave my father’s office, still seeing Ella sitting in that chair, dreaming about her one night in the sun.
If Quenton Stanley touches her tonight, he’ll learn how dark the sun can burn.
15
ELLA
“You are a vision,” Hazel says after Matteo and Simone leave. “That dress, your hair, the polish on your fingernails and toenails… We’ve turned you into an angel.”
