All I know is that thinking about Rick right now is what gets me down the stairs without falling down. The idea that I might see him tonight is what keeps me steady when it should unsteady me.
“You look lovely,” Gabriel says as I join him, his gaze sliding up and down my body. His voice lowering as he adds, “I’ll show you how lovely when we’re alone.”
Because apparently, one woman in a day isn’t enough for him. “Thank you,” I say tightly.
His gaze narrows sharply. “Something wrong?”
“Just a little nervous,” I assure him, reprimanding myself for being too transparent. “It’s my first event on your arm as your fiancée.”
He strokes my hair and it’s all I can do not to shrink away from the touch. “You’ll be perfect tonight. You always are.” He offers me his arm.
Without a real option, I settle my hand in the crook of his elbow, and a few minutes later we’re in the back of a town car, his palm under my dress, high on my thigh. I want to hit him, but instead, my hand settles delicately on top of his hand and, desperate to offset my behavior, I dare to kiss his cheek. It’s a mistake. He cups my head and comes in for a deep kiss. My tongue is now in the same mouth that Monica’s tongue was in only hours before if it’s been that long. Finally, he pulls back and I just want out of this car. Part of me wishes I wasn’t wearing stay-on lipstick. Then maybe he’d keep his mouth off of me.
Thankfully, his cellphone rings and he takes the call that lasts until we arrive at the hotel hosting the event. Gabriel ends his call not a second before the valet is opening his door. “The show has begun,” he says, glancing over at me. “Ready?”
“Yes,” I say, but he’s barely even noticed my reply. He’s already sliding out of the car.
With an intake of breath, I scoot along after him. He does offer me his hand, of course, because cameras flash. He inches me up close to him and whisks me in the door, a high ceiling with a dangling chandelier above our heads. It’s here in the lobby, with clusters of fine furnishings and art around us, that we’re greeted by random familiar faces. My fake smile all but breaks my face, but it stays in place. Finally, we’re in a great room with a small orchestra at the front, clusters of white covered tables, and an early Christmas tree in the corner. But none of that is what I’m looking at or for. It’s him, it’s Rick. I’m apparently obsessed with the idea of him being here, my gaze whipping through the crowd, cutting left and right, seeking him out before he seeks us out. And he might. Lord help me, what is he going to do if he does show up?
“What do you see?” Gabriel asks, sounding a bit suspicious.
I grin. “Our next stop,” I say, pointing to a chocolate fountain, knowing full well Gabriel will not be caught stuffing his face. “I haven’t eaten much today.”
“You and your chocolate,” he comments, his posture softening, whatever edge I’d created in him with my behavior softening into a low laugh.
“Only sometimes,” I say, trying to sound as if I’m teasing. Which I am, because I prefer chocolate over him, every moment of every day.
Monica is suddenly standing in front of us, looking oh so Marilyn Monroe, her pink dress hugging all her many curves, the way she was hugging my fiancé a few hours ago. Her blonde hair is even an extra shade of bleached right now. “You look stunning, Candace,” she proclaims. “A future first lady for sure.”
“As do you,” I say and, unable to stop myself from taking a tiny jab, I add, “A future first lady, for sure.” It infers I know she’s fucking Gabriel yes, but it’s tamer than me telling her she looks like the White House bimbo.
Her eyes go wide. “What?” She glances at Gabriel and then me. “A first—lady?”
“I just meant that you’re stunning,” I assure her, glancing at Gabriel. “Isn’t she, honey?”
He studies me under half-veiled lashes. “She is,” he agrees, his hand sliding to my lower back, leaning in close to whisper in my ear, “But not the way you are.”
And yet, he’s fucking her, I think, but I manage to smile up at him and say, “Chocolate. I must indulge. Touch base with Monica. You know where to find me.” I kiss his cheek and hurry away. Some may say the very fact that I’m willing to leave him with the woman he was just buried inside is a testament to how much I never loved him. Or perhaps how much I love another man, who is also somewhere in this room.