With VIP passes in hand, we enter the main ballroom. As we step inside, it hits me full force, as my eyes bounce from one corner of the elegant room to the other.
God, I’m as skittish as a virgin on prom night.
This is beyond nerve-wracking.
As if Phoenix senses my panic, he squeezes my hand tight. “You belong on my arm as my wife. As my queen.”
I nod.
My lips part, in a tight smile. The nerves in my belly are still rattling like chimes caught in a violent storm.
“You got this, beautiful.”
“I have a new nickname?”
He leans in close and drops a soft kiss against my cheek. “Kitten is a bit too personal when we’re out in public.”
I let out a small laugh.
We keep walking.
My heart leaps into my throat and my step falters.
“Are you okay?”
I shake my head.
His gaze drops to my feet. “Did you hurt your ankle?”
I shake my head again. “I should’ve never agreed to your outrageous demand,” I say in a low voice. “There are a lot of people here tonight. Now, I’m worried others will know I’ve gone commando.”
He laughs.
The kind of unrestrained laughter that causes people to glance our way.
Great.
“This isn’t a laughing matter,” I say in a hushed tone. “This is a disaster waiting to happen—an embarrassing one.”
“You’re worrying your pretty little head for nothing,” he says. “Do you think you’re the only one? I doubt it.”
Right on cue, a tall brunette in five-inch heels with a serious pair of breasts and generous round hips walks by. The silver sequined dress she’s wearing—which is practically see-through—confirms what Phoenix was just saying. My jaw drops at the sight of her visible butt crack.
Good God.
“Told you.” Phoenix chuckles. He presses a kiss to my forehead, and I lean into him. “Now that I’ve eased your mind, let’s go work the room, Mrs. König.”
“Okay,” I say, my voice still a bit shaky.
Phoenix’s warm hand splays against my back as he guides me further into the ballroom. We each snatch a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter.
I need liquid courage.
Careful not to gulp the effervescent drink in one go, I allow my lips to touch the champagne. “I know we’re in France, but this is amazing.” I hold my glass at eye level to appraise the exceptional bubbly.
“The HEEA never skimps,” Phoenix says.
“Makes sense.” I nod. “With that in mind, why isn’t the HEEA opening ceremony held at one of your hotels? Many of the König hotels are serious contenders at the Hospitality Experience Excellence Awards. Not that the Mandarin Oriental is anything to sniff at, but it doesn’t compare to the Pompadour or some of the other luxury hotels under your umbrella.”
