I hesitate, but only for a second. “Sure.”
He takes my hand and leads me to the dance floor. He doesn’t bother with the polite shuffle everyone else is doing. Instead, he just pulls me in, hands hot at my waist and the small of my back.
Nash leans close, his breath warm on my cheek. “I’ve missed this,” he says.
“What?”
“This,” he says, lips nearly at my ear. “You and me. Touching you. Being this close.” He laughs quietly. “You look like trouble, doll.”
I laugh. “You’d know.”
He holds me tighter. The music shifts again to something slower, almost sadder. I’m aware of the way we move together, how easily our bodies find the old rhythm, and for a moment I think I could let myself fall back into him, and the world would be okay.
I don’t see James, not at first. But I feel him. Nash feels it, too. His grip tightens, and I follow his line of sight to the far end of the ballroom, where James stands in a shadowed corner, surrounded by people I don’t recognize. When his eyes find me, they don’t slide away. His stare burrows deeper, unblinking, as if he could pick apart every layer of me from across the room.
My breath catches, but Nash doesn’t loosen his grip. If anything, he draws me closer, staking a claim that is both obvious and transparently defensive.
“Well, well,” he murmurs. “We’ve got boss man’s attention. Think he’ll cut in?”
“Maybe,” I say, and Nash grins, wolfish.
“Let him try.”
But James doesn’t move.
He watches us dance, face unreadable, until Nash twirls me in a slow, deliberate circle, and I catch the glimmer of something brittle in James’s eyes.
Jealousy, maybe.
We finish the song. Nash’s hands linger just a beat too long on my hips before he steps back and says, “You need a drink?”
“Please,” I say, and he goes to fetch it, leaving me by the edge of the dance floor, pulse racing.
I let myself drift, taking in the crowd: a partner’s wife with diamond earrings big as dimes, a cluster of associates snapping selfies with the skyline as a backdrop, Vanessa in a sheath of midnight blue, trailing…PIERCE?!
What the fuck is he doing here?
She spots me and veers my direction, bringing Pierce in tow.
“Avery,” she purrs, eyes raking over the dress. “You look…different.”
I take in her high ponytail, slicked back so brutally tight that it’s giving her a temporary facelift.
I smile with all my teeth. “So do you. Love the hair. Very…bold.”
The dig lands, and she flicks her gaze to Pierce and places a hand on his arm.
“My boyfriend and I were just discussing whether anyone here would have the guts to wear red to a black-tie event.” She gives my dress a long, slow look. “You’re certainly making a statement.”
Pierce says nothing at first. His gaze travels over me, lingering half a second too long on the neckline and the bare skin above.
“Nice to see you, Avery,” he says.
“Can’t say the same, Pierce,” I reply. “See you found that housewife you were so desperately looking for.”
Pierce’s grin is too sharp, too white. “You’re one to talk. I heard you’ve been keeping busy. Speaking of…” he trails off, looking over my shoulder.
I turn to see James standing at my back. My face heats instantly, realizing that Vanessa made him aware of the rumors about James and I.
