Decker stands beside steps of the stage, hands clasped behind his back, and pride glowing on his face. My lungs fill with air, and a smile twitches my mouth.
I stride toward him, holding his gaze while raising my voice to the crowd. “Enjoy the rest of your meal. The auction will begin shortly.”
When I reach the stairs, he offers his hand. I curl my fingers around his, and he leads me down the steps. Near our table, he pulls me against his chest, and the moment I smell his skin, I know I’m home. It’s an earthy scent, natural and wild, like the air that breathes through my Savannah acreage. I press closer to him, savoring that nostalgic aroma.
Chatter and movement arises around us, but nothing can distract me from the scent of his skin, the palm resting on my cheek, and the soft kiss on my lips.
“I did it,” I say into his mouth.
“I never doubted.” He rests his forehead against mine and runs his hand up and down my bare spine. “I know I’m a horny bastard, but watching you up there made my slacks unbearably tight. We can leave now, right?”
I reverse out of his arms, shaking my head and grinning. “After the auction, I’m all yours.”
With a groan, he takes my hand and weaves us around the crowded tables. My gaze skips from face to face, and every pair of eyes averts from mine. If I made these superficial prima donnas uncomfortable, so be it. I’ll know soon enough who my friends are. No doubt news is already spreading outside this room. Good thing I didn’t bring my phone tonight. Violet is probably leaving me hate mail at this very moment.
I spot Reese standing against the far wall, glaring at the screen of his phone with a pained look on his face. My stomach plunges, and I squeeze Decker’s hand, veering us toward my best friend.
As we approach, Reese looks up, and a warm smile hijacks his lips.
“That was fucking amazing, Laynee.” He pockets the phone and pulls me in for a hug.
“Thank you. What were you scowling at?” I step back. “Has it hit the news feeds yet?”
“It’s still too early to gauge.” He takes the shawl from my hand. “I’ll go check this for you.”
I watch him damn near sprint away with a sinking feeling in my gut. “It must be bad.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Decker brushes a ringlet of hair away from my face. “But the woman who just gave a poignant speech on strength doesn’t give a flying fuck about gossip.”
I open my mouth to remind him that gossip can ruin my career, but I’m interrupted by the one person I’m anxious to see after my speech. “Mrs. Montague.”
“Darling.” She accepts my offered hand and holds it between us. “Let me just say I’ve always been impressed by your poise and gentility, but now I’m… Well, I’m happy you finally see your strength. Thank you for sharing it with us.” She tightens her grip and releases my fingers. “You’re an inspiration, Miss Somerset.”
“Thank you.” I press a hand to my chest, feeling lighter, relieved.
“Mr. Gabrielli?” She looks at Decker. “You’ll be in touch?”
“Count on it.” He winks.
“Wonderful.” She lifts her chin. “I wish you both the best of luck.”
With that, she glides through the ballroom and slips out the exit.
For the next hour, Decker and I watch the auction from a table in the corner of the ballroom. Other than Adelaide, no one approaches me or makes eye contact. I know I said not to ask questions about my scars, but I expected some kind of reaction—censure, pity, approval. Something.
A few forced smiles are thrown my way, but I have the distinct feeling I’m being snubbed. These people are nothing if not two-faced. I don’t put it past them to pretend I don’t exist then talk viciously behind my back. Most of them are entitled shallow snobs, more concerned about image and money than raising proceeds for an honorable cause. After all, it’s out of concern for their public image that brings them here. The press coverage tonight is huge. What better way to make a positive public appearance than to be caught on camera at a charity event?
As the bids close out on each item in the auction, my suspicions progress into panic.
“The auction usually brings in more money than this.” I grip Decker’s hand on my thigh. “The bids are a fraction of what they’ve been in prior years.”
“You know what I think?” He waits until I look at him before leaning in and baring his teeth. “Fuck. Them.”
I liquefy in the chair, because dammit, the way he says fuck, all cocky and belligerent, turns me into butter.
“You, in a tux, should be censored.” I tilt my head at the dwindling crowd, the majority of which is female. “I bet most of these socialites are only lingering with the hope to steal a few minutes alone with you.”