CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“Welcome, Ms. Adams and Mr. Austin.”
Kelsey forced her mouth to form some facsimile of a smile as a pretty dark-skinned woman handed her and Wyatt each a little white rectangle as they stepped into the main resort’s ballroom.
“What’s this?” Wyatt asked as he flipped the card over to peer at the numbers on the back.
“Mr. Carmichael is giving away fifty thousand dollars tonight. If you win, you get to pick which charity it goes to.”
“How generous of him,” Wyatt said, and though his tone was as smooth as glass, Kelsey could feel his grip tighten on her waist, as if saying anything complimentary about Andrew Carmichael costs him a little piece of his soul. “Are the tables assigned tonight?”
The woman smiled. “No, sir, sit wherever you’d like. Dinner will be served after the performance.”
“Thank you. Come on, love.”
Kelsey took a deep breath, letting him lead her forward. Some of the group had already arrived and tables were beginning to fill up. She kept her gaze forward but could almost feel eyes pressing on her. She didn’t know for sure if anyone besides Gwen and Andrew had discovered her most damaging secrets. But based on how those women had treated her at the spa, she wasn’t feeling very confident that the information hadn’t traveled.
“I feel like everyone is watching us,” she said under her breath.
“That’s because you look so beautiful, love.” Wyatt rubbed circles against the small of her back with his thumb. The dark green dress he’d chosen for her tonight was backless. She’d protested the gorgeous gown, worried that it was too sexy when they were trying to blend in. But he’d insisted, and already she was happy he had. His skin against hers was instant comfort, a soothing salve for the nerves strumming through her.
Wyatt found an empty table and pulled her chair out for her. She sat and heaved a sigh of relief that he hadn’t attempted to sit with anyone. She needed a minute to put her game face back on. “I feel like I’m on the verge of a nervous breakdown or something.”
“Shh,” he said, reaching out and grabbing her knee beneath the table. “It’s going to be okay. Just breathe, love.”
But as the minutes ticked by, she watched couple after couple enter the ballroom and choose their dinner companions. The tables filled up around them, and a sinking feeling settled over her, like a sack of sand in the pit of her stomach. They were at the only table holding one couple now. She didn’t believe in coincidences. And she didn’t miss the surreptitious glances, the whispered words at nearby tables. People knew.
“Wyatt,” she said, keeping her voice low.
“I know, love.” A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he didn’t get up and haul her out of there. He simply laid his arm over the back of her chair, exuding that pure I-dare-anyone-to-fuck-with-me confidence that seemed to come so easy to him. “And I’m giving you one order for tonight. You are not allowed to act embarrassed, ashamed, or apologetic.”
“But, Wyatt,” she protested, her stomach doing flips at the thought of all these people knowing, judging.
He turned to look at her. “The only opinions in this room that should matter to you are mine and your own. And I am nothing but proud of you. If you show shame, it shames me.”
She closed her eyes, unable to meet the ferocity of his gaze and conviction behind his words. “I can take a lot. But don’t lie to me. You have to be embarrassed by me. You wouldn’t have come up with a fake backstory and last name for me if it didn’t matter to you.”
A hand touched her cheek. “Love, I came up with the ruse to protect you. Not me. Your past is your business, and I didn’t want anyone prodding you.”
She opened her eyes at that and couldn’t help the sharp laugh. “Sure. You would’ve taken a former drug addict stripper to a business retreat as your real date. Right.”
But his gaze didn’t waver, his lip only lifted at the corner. “In case you haven’t noticed, part of the reason I’m not so good with the social stuff is that I don’t give a flying fuck what people like this think of me. If my father could’ve beat that trait out of me, he would’ve, but it’s not going anywhere. My family, my friends, the girl I . . . care about, that’s whose opinions matter. Not some hoity-toity assholes who like to jerk off to gossip.” He glanced over his shoulder at the other tables. “I would happily stand up right now and tell everyone in here that I’m dating you—a girl who has kicked and scraped her way through a life that would’ve crushed most of the people in here. And that she’s the most beautiful, kind-hearted, and tough-ass woman I’ve ever met. I’m humbled to be with her.”
Kelsey stared at Wyatt, her throat burning as he made his way through his fervent declaration. No one had ever said anything to her like that before, and she didn’t even know how to process it. “Wyatt . . . ,” she whispered.
“Shh,” he said taking her hand and bringing it to his mouth to kiss her palm. “You don’t have to say anything. I just needed you to hear what I think when I see you. And I want you to be proud of that girl because that’s who you are now. You’re not a fuckup, you’re a survivor.”
“Are these seats taken?”
Kelsey turned toward the familiar voice, the interruption thankfully cutting off the tears that had been threatening to flow. Kade Vandergriff, looking dapper in his three-piece suit, smiled down at her. A pretty dark-haired Asian woman stood at his side. Kelsey shook her head and Wyatt let go of her hand. “No, please, sit.”
“Great.” He pulled out the chair for his companion. “This is Maile, my assistant.”
They all exchanged introductions, and Kade sat in between Kelsey and Maile.
“I didn’t realize you’d brought anyone along,” Wyatt said, smiling so deeply his dimples peeked out.
“I was told showing up to this thing solo was frowned upon, so Maile graciously volunteered to come with me even though she barely tolerates me most days.”