“No. Only something to pass the time.” She dismissed it easily.
“If it’s what you want—go for it. This could be good for you after you’re done here.”
We locked eyes again, so much going unsaid. Things that I couldn’t put into words. My heart stuttered.
I finally cleared my throat. “We should go soon.”
I carried a strange ache with me into the living room, letting the noise and laughter of the others drown it out.
A few minutes later, Jessa reappeared.
Every head turned.
I forgot to breathe. The red gown fit her like it had been poured on her. Hair swept up; diamond studs catching the light. I offered a hand.
“Breathtaking.” My voice came out rough, unguarded. I pressed a kiss to her cheek so as not to smudge her lipstick.
Her mouth curved. “Your face makes being stuffed into this dress worth it.”
Whatever shadows I’d been drowning in, they faded. She was with me. I’d march in to the benefit proudly with her at my side. We’d impress the hell out of everyone. That was all that mattered tonight.
The momentour car slowed at the Plaza Hotel, my phone buzzed in my pocket.
PI: My findings on Jessa Cole are complete. Must speak with you.
A knot pulled tight under my ribs.
“Is everything okay?” Jessa asked, adjusting a shoulder strap of her gown.
“Work,” I clipped, pocketing the phone as Brock opened the door for us. “It can wait.”
I stepped out and nodded at Brock. He’d keep close by us all night to watch over things, not that I expected any trouble, merely a precaution I liked to take when in a large, crowded event like this.
I turned and took Jessa’s hand. The moment she unfolded from the car, flashbulbs attacked us like crazy.
“You two look amazing,” Brock said.
“Thank you so much,” she gushed. To me, she whispered, as we stepped away: “That means a lot coming from him. He hardly ever says a word.”
We paused on the steps outside and smiled for the cameras. She did her usual spiel about the designer gown she wore. I forced myself not to fidget with my tie. One side of me knew how to put on a show, how perceptions were everything. The other side of me felt the knot climb higher into my throat, worried about what I’d find in the private investigator’s report.
The ballroom wasa choreography of crystal and gold, with a string quartet playing elegant music, chandeliers casting spells with the light, and five hundred guests shining in formal wear and gowns.
We made the rounds. I introduced her to contacts I’d spent a decade earning, one handshake at a time. CEOs. A senator or two. She charmed all of them—poised without pretense, warm without fawning.
“She’s a natural,” Gary murmured as we passed. “You’re a lucky man, Griffin.”
Wasn’t I?
Dinner proceeded over seven immaculate courses. Sam and a few others spoke at the podium first. When it was my turn to give the keynote, Jessa’s fingers briefly squeezed mine beneath the linen. I rose from the head table, and stood tall at the podium, remembering my father doing the same so many times.
I delivered the speech I’d practiced for weeks, with a message of vision and values, and listing the various charities that would benefit from tonight’s event. When I finished, the guests applauded, hitting like thunder.
“You were incredible,” Jessa whispered when I sat. She leaned in and pressed her lips to mine. I overheard a few women at a nearby table going on about how right we seemed together, and how I was off the market at last.
Yes, we made a perfect show of it, beating down any negative perception of me. But whatever my private investigator turned up about Jessa weighed on me.Must speak with you,he’d said in his text, without any indication if it was something that could blow all this up or not.
Shortly after, we started mingling with the guests. It wasn’t long before I spotted my investigator hovering off to the side near Brock, trying to be invisible. He lifted a hand, a small wave to call me over.
