The neckline was modest but elegant, and she'd swept her auburn hair up into a twist that exposed the line of her neck.
Gold earrings caught the streetlight, and she carried a small clutch purse that matched her heels.
She looked stunning. Good enough to eat.
It had my dick roused immediately.
I climbed out of the car and opened the door for her, offering my hand to help her navigate the step up in heels.
Her fingers slid into mine, and she smiled as she settled into the seat while I climbed in and shut the door.
"You look beautiful," I said once the driver had pulled back into traffic.
"Thank you." She smoothed the fabric of her gown over her knees. "You clean up pretty well yourself."
"This old thing?" I gestured at my tuxedo in mock humility. "I've had it for years."
"Well, it works." She chuckled. Her eyes held mine for a moment longer than necessary before she turned to look out the window.
She was nervous, though I was sure it was because of me and not the cameras we both knew would be at the event.
She hadn't told me why she was so camera shy, but I'd pry it out of her one of these days.
The car settled into awkward silence while I found myself hyper-aware of every small movement she made—the way she adjusted her clutch on her lap, the slight shift of her shoulders when the car turned, the faint sound of her breathing.
"Are you nervous?" I asked.
"About the gala?" She glanced at me. "A little… I've never been to anything this formal before."
"You'll do fine. Most of it is standing around making small talk with people who have too much money and too little sense of how to spend it." I loosened my bowtie slightly. "The key is to smile, nod at appropriate intervals, and never get cornered by anyone who wants to discuss their yacht."
That earned me a laugh. "Noted. No yacht discussions."
"Unless they're offering to donate it to the hospital. Then you smile wider and find me immediately." I grinned at her, and it seemed to loosen her up a bit.
I wanted to press now, to ask her what she hoped might be going on or if she had thought about me at all, but stirring up her nerves before the event seemed cruel.
So, I paced myself and vowed to ask her on the drive home.
The hotel came into view, lit up with elegant spotlights.
A red carpet stretched from the entrance to the curb, and photographers clustered on either side, snapping pictures of arriving guests.
My stomach tightened on behalf of my beautiful date for the evening, and I watched her eyes dart around as she flicked her tongue over her lip.
The driver pulled up to the curb and a valet opened Ember's door.
I climbed out on my side and walked around to meet her, offering my arm.
She took it, and I expected a light touch, but what I got were talons digging into my bicep.
She wasn’t kidding.
She really did hate the limelight.
Cameras flashed. Someone called my name, asking me to look their direction.
I kept my expression neutral and professional, guiding Ember toward the entrance.
