The doors swept open. The lobby was filled with dozens of fae in gorgeous suits and gowns who’d also been invited to the gala.Wilde Holdings LLC executives, supposedly.But one figure among them stood out: Severn was taller than even the tallest fae by a few inches—with the possible exception of Talon—and, like the rest of them, wore an authentic, un-glamoured dark suit. My fae sight let me see beneath his glamour to his true long silver hair, but it was pulled back now, and he looked shockingly more human than he ever had before.
Not to mention devastatingly gorgeous from head to toe.
“Remember, if you get bored,” Locke whispered, sparing a moment to lean toward me, “I can find a bush or broom closet or covered table at the gala with our name on it.”
I gave him one last eye roll before striding out of the elevator in my towering heels. The lobby fell silent at my appearance. Most of the fae were used to seeing me in jean skirts or even pajama bottoms; now, I held my head high, enjoying their gaping mouths.
Severn did not gape when his eyes fell on me. Nor did he smile or make any gesture at all except to rake his devouring gaze deliberately down my body like he was silently undressing every stitch of clothing.
He rested a hand low around my hips and leaned in close. “I’m having second thoughts about Italy,” he purred in my ear. “I’m tempted to lock you away in mybedroomfor weeks.”
I smiled up at him, enjoying the aghast stares of the fae.
“Ready?” he asked.
I took a deep breath. “Ready.”Ready to show up as your official girlfriend.
“Good,” he said, taking my hand and kissing my knuckles. “I’m ready, too. Ready for the world to know you’re mine, only mine, and for every person in this city to be jealous that you aren’t on their arm.”
ChapterTwenty-Five
Kell drove us across town to the landmark hotel where the Summer Benefactors’ Gala was being held. It was a luxury hotel made famous in books and movies, where Saudi oil tycoons and European royalty stayed when they were in town. I doubted a person like me could even get a reservation, assuming I could afford the eye-watering prices.Which I couldn’t.
On the stretch of sidewalk in front of the hotel, a red carpet had been rolled out with velvet ropes to hold back the curious crowds and hordes of paparazzi. Photographers began snapping pictures and filming with their phones even before we got out of the car.
I felt myself clam up in the back seat, immediately wary of the attention.
Severn rested a hand on my knee. “You’re with me, Willow. Iwanteveryone to know it.”
I gave a shaky nod. He signaled to Kell, who opened his car door. Severn climbed out to a chorus of photographers calling his name, trying to get him to look their way. I took a deep breath and slid across the seat. As soon as I swung my towering high heels out of the car door, I was immediately blinded by camera flashes. Voices shouted my name, trying to snag my attention for a photo. I immediately faltered, blocking the flashing lights with one hand. Fortunately, Severn was ready to shelter me from the worst of their attention by standing in front of me with his broad shoulders.
“Willow O’Dell!” A paparazzi called. “Or should we say Willow Wilde?”
I cringed—there were still plenty of rumors floating around that we were secretly married. The reason for the supposed secrecy varied, each of them more ridiculous than the last: out of privacy, because Severn’s family didn’t approve of me, because I was married to another man.They’ll publish anything,I thought,and the public will believe it.
“Is it true Severn’s siblings think you’re a gold-digger?” the man called.
“Ignore them,” Severn whispered in my ear.
But the man who’d called my name was familiar—Phone Dude. The hipster paparazzo who had spotted me outside of Zara’s apartment weeks ago, the one who had started this whole mess. I’d recognize those black-rimmed glasses and nose piercing anywhere.
He had a standard camera now and held it up to his eye, ready to snap my reaction to his provocations. Luckily, it was only a few short steps across the sidewalk, and I was able to maintain my composure. Severn shot the photographer a withering look.
Doormen swept open the gilded hotel doors, leading us into a lobby that soared three stories high, laden with golden accents and a spiral staircase. The velvet ropes continued here, winding around the lobby like a waiting-line maze at an amusement park. Glamorous couples waited ahead of us in line for the coat check.
Severn pressed a hand to my back, sensing I was overwhelmed. “It’s all right. No paparazzi can get inside. This event has good security, and I’ve even arranged for a few of my own.” He used his chin to indicate several security guards standing around the lobby perimeter, wearing sunglasses despite being indoors.His werewolf bodyguards.
Our turn came for the coat check station. Though it was mid-summer and coats were hardly necessary, they were an almost requisite part of most fashion ensembles, and the coatroom behind the valet was bursting with luxurious garments.
I turned in my purse, giving my phone to Severn to carry in his pocket in case I needed it, and took a ticket. The velvet ropes led us to a paper backdrop with the event’s logo printed on it. The couple in front of us was posing in front of it while a photographer took their picture.
“A step-and-repeat.” Severn groaned. “One can never avoid them. Trust me, I’ve tried.”
When it was our turn to smile for the camera, I was relieved to see that the official gala photographer was a professional who didn’t taunt or bully me like Phone Dude outside. She simply asked us to pose however we were most comfortable, and to my surprise, Severn placed his arm around my hip, drawing me into an intimate embrace. I think the camera must have caught my surprised face at his unexpected show of affection.
We finally reached the end of the velvet ropes, where a server stood with a tray of champagne flutes, which I was only too happy to accept. Free of the velvet maze, I guzzled the champagne, looking around. The hotel lobby opened up to a cavernous ballroom, which was the main location for gala activities. We wandered into the enormous room, and I marveled at the floral arrangements, the table settings, the beautifully dressed men and women. Doors along one of the ballroom’s walls had been thrown open in the warm summer weather to the hotel’s private courtyard, where a dance floor was set up with music and pulsing lights. Security guards lined all the exits, and judging by their sunglasses and stances, I guessed at least half of them were Central Park werewolves hired by Severn.
Among the crowd of attendees, I spotted a few Gifted Ones beneath their glamour—a man with small, gray-feathered wings, a woman with purple hair that seemed to move on its own. The vast majority of the invitees were human. They were some of the most gorgeous humans I’d ever seen—wealth could buy amazing cosmetic procedures, after all—but even so, they didn’t begin to rival the fae when it came to beauty.
