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waited behind the hostess’ counter, a cool smile faintly curving her ruby red lips. “How may I help you?”

“I’m here for the Intermix party.” Stasia unwound the scarf from her head and stashed it in her satchel bag. Intermix was a well-known fashion public relations company and were having their annual bash to celebrate their clients.

“Ah, the event is located upstairs.” She waved a pale hand toward the stairwell to the right. “Someone will be taking names at the door, so do be prepared.”

Snobby little bitch, Stasia thought after she left the hostess without a thank-you, carefully taking her time as she walked up the stairs. The muffled sounds of the party reached her, indicating it was in full swing, and she wondered how the hell she would slip past the bouncer at the door.

Crashing parties wasn’t her style, but damn it, rumor was Rhett Worth and his perfumer girlfriend, Gabriella Durand, were going to be in attendance this evening. That she’d resorted to such desperate actions didn’t thrill her, but Stasia didn’t have a choice. She was tired of roadblocks constantly thrown in her face at every turn. She needed answers.

She had a feeling Rhett would be the easiest one to get them from, especially since they had already spoken once. He knew her plight, as did his girlfriend. Perhaps she could elicit sympathy from them.

Whatever it takes…

At the top of the stairs, she spotted the open double doors, the people mingling within. Most everyone clutched a cocktail in one hand, nearly all of them dressed in black. The room was filled with varying levels of conversation, and her head throbbed just thinking of making her way through the chattering throng.

Squaring her shoulders, she ignored her potential headache and approached the doors, her steps determined, her gaze averted just enough that she couldn’t make eye contact with the young woman holding a clipboard, a headset curled around her sleek, bright red hair.

“Excuse me, ma’am? I need to check your name against the list,” the woman said, her voice weak.

“I’m sorry, my boyfriend is waiting inside.” Stasia flashed an apologetic smile over her shoulder as she hurried toward the open doors. “I need to find him. I’m sure he’s mad at me for being so late.”

“But, ma’am, no one is allowed in unless they’re on the list.” The girl glanced around in obvious irritation before she started inside the room, following Stasia.

Shit. The girl was way too close to lose her, even in this crowd. Stasia was going to get kicked out. And even worse, people were already starting to notice the commotion.

“Your name, please?” The woman tapped Stasia on the shoulder and she had no choice but to turn around. Stasia found the short woman stopped just before her, clipboard poised and ready for her perusal.

Stasia parted her lips, her brain scrambling for some sort of lame excuse when strong, warm fingers curled around her upper arm, jerking her close to an equally strong, warm body. “She’s with me,” said a familiar deep voice.

Her arm tingled at the man’s possessive touch, even through the fabric of her sleeve. She glanced up, shock coursing through her despite knowing it was Gavin Westmore who’d somehow swooped in and saved her. He studied her like some sort of hawk contemplating his prey, his mouth firm, his green gaze blazing with ire.

“Uh…” The man’s nearness had robbed her of words, something that had never happened before.

“You’re on the list, right, sir?” The girl glanced at her precious piles of paper with an endless string of names.

“I am. Westmore is my last name.”

She flipped through the stapled papers, trailed her index finger down the last page, skimming her black painted nail across his name when she spotted it. “It doesn’t show you were bringing a guest. There’s no plus one here.” Her questioning gaze met Gavin’s with a mocking smile.

“It was a last-minute arrangement.” He slipped his arm around Stasia’s waist, drew her so close her body collided with his. “As she mentioned, she knew I would be upset if she didn’t show up.”

God, the nerve of the man. Holding her to him as if he owned her. His big hand settled on her hip, his touch seeming to brand her as his. She stiffened in his embrace, his grip tightening as if to dissuade her.

She beamed up at him, trying her best to ignore the buzz of electricity coursing through her. “I’m so sorry I’m late, honey. Work kept me extremely busy and I lost track of time.” She hoped she didn’t sound like she wanted to choke on her words.

His intense gaze met hers, his handsome face stoic, but his green eyes had gone wide. She smiled blissfully at him as if she hadn’t a care in the world. And she leaned her cheek against his shoulder for the briefest moment, cuddling him, for the love of God.

Not that he didn’t feel good. The fine fabric of his suit jacket rubbing her cheek, the spicy masculine scent of him, it all went straight to her head. Damn it.

Hopefully she was putting on a convincing show for the woman who watched them with shrewd eyes. For someone so small and who appeared so young, it looked like she’d been given a false story more than once.

“Hmm, well, I guess I’ll let you in.” The woman sniffed, whipping the wrinkled papers of her list back into place. “Next time, though, I advise you to leave your girlfriend’s name when you RSVP.”

“Noted.” Gavin nodded, his fingers caressing Stasia’s side. She barely restrained the shiver that moved through her. Hopefully he didn’t notice. “I appreciate you giving us no trouble.”

“Anytime.” She shot him a flirtatious look before she flounced away, her overly red hair swinging as she walked.

“Get your hands off me,” Stasia muttered the moment the woman was gone, trying her best to extract herself from his grip.

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