"The D'Arcy Foundation will make the donation in your name," he said calmly, as if discussing the weather rather than a six-figure sum. "You were clearly confused about the chip denominations, and taking advantage of inebriated guests defeats the charitable purpose."
"I'm not that drunk," she protested, even as she swayed slightly. “I made the bet. It’s my responsibility to understand the rules of the game.”
“Yes,” he agreed, his hands still on her arms. "But you're drunk enough to have accidentally become the event's largest donor, which suggests some impairment of judgment."
"This is humiliating," she muttered. "I can't let you pay that much money for my mistake."
"It's not my money, it's the foundation's. And it was always going to the hospital anyway." His thumbs moved on her arms—nothing like Wickham's deliberate touches. He seemed completely unaware he was doing it. "Consider it handled."
Libby frowned. “I don’t need anyone to ‘handle’ me, D’Arcy. Especially not you.”
His eyes went dark. “Your actions would suggest otherwise.”
They stared at each other, and Libby felt a current jump between them. Finally, Liam looked away with a sigh, and when he met her gaze again, the tension had left him. “Please, Libby.Allow the foundation to cover this, and we’ll chalk it up to ignorance. A one-time thing, I’m sure.”
"Why are you being nice to me?" The champagne had apparently dissolved her filter. "You don't even like me."
Something shifted in his expression. "What makes you think I don't like you?"
"You're all... distant and proper and—" She gestured vaguely at him. "Hockey robot."
"Hockey robot?" His mouth quirked slightly.
"Very expensive hockey robot," she amended. "With excellent programming."
He was definitely smiling now, just barely. "You're going to be mortified about this conversation tomorrow."
"I'm mortified now," she admitted. "But also grateful. Even if I don't understand why you're helping."
"Perhaps I respect journalists who actually understand zone entries," he said dryly. "Even when they're accidentally philanthropic."
She laughed and turned too quickly, her heel catching the too-long hem. She felt herself pitching forward and tried to catch herself, but the sudden movement was too much for the delicate dress. The left strap snapped with an audible pop, the bodice immediately beginning to sag dramatically.
"Oh no," she breathed, clutching at the fabric desperately. "Oh no, no, no?—"
"What's wrong?"
"The strap! I stepped on the hem and—" She was trying to hold the dress up while maintaining any dignity, which was impossible. The dress was betraying her completely, the broken strap causing the whole bodice to gap dangerously.
Without hesitation, Liam shrugged off his tuxedo jacket and draped it around her shoulders, pulling it closed in front. The jacket was still warm from his body, the silk lining slidingagainst her bare arms. The sleeves hung past her hands by what seemed like a foot. The intimacy of wearing something of his made her brain short-circuit even more than the champagne.
"Thank you," she whispered.
They were standing very close now, his hands still holding the jacket closed around her. In her heels, she only had to tilt her head slightly to meet his eyes. This close, she could feel his breath warm against her temple, catch the faint scent of mint beneath the champagne.
"Liam! There you are!"
They sprang apart as Kate appeared in the doorway, her eyes taking in the scene—Libby in Liam's jacket, the intimate positioning, the darkened gallery.
"Oh my," Kate said, her voice carrying perfectly pitched surprise. "I seem to be interrupting something. How... unexpected."
She held up her phone, and Libby realized with horror that she'd already taken a photo. In the image, they looked completely compromising—Libby disheveled in Liam's jacket, him standing intimately close, both of them flushed.
"Kate," Liam said warningly.
"Oh, don't worry, I'm not going to do anything rash," Kate said sweetly. "Though Anne will be so disappointed when she arrives from Paris next week. She's been looking forward to reconnecting with you, Liam. Still, I suppose these things happen." She examined the photo on her screen. "Of course, if this got out, the Herald would have to pull their reporter for ethical violations, wouldn't they? Such a shame when careers end over... misunderstandings."
She sailed back into the party, leaving them in tense silence.
