The silk of her dress brushed her knees. “And if you don’t?”
“Then someone bends.” He looked at her again. “Or breaks.”
Quiet slid between them.
She peered up at him. “Are you always this cheerful at engagement parties?”
“Depends who’s getting engaged.”
It hit too close.
The bell rang in the distance, summoning them back to society. Bea turned and walked away before she did something unwise.
Like ask him to elaborate.
Or worse—like stay.
Bea returned to the table just as her napkin was being refolded. She took her seat beside Gage, careful not to glance toward the doorway.
Rafael reappeared after a few minutes. She didn’t need to look. She could feel him reenter the room.
Gage reached out, drawing her just a little closer, then let his hand settle on her knee.
Naomi’s father stood at the head of the long banquet table, toasting his daughter’s razor wit and Charles’ ability to handle it. The crowd laughed in all the right moments. Cameras flashed. Naomi looked radiant: cheekbones lit by candlelight, hand resting lightly over Charles’ as he smiled at her like there was no world outside of this room.
Isabel’s voice was pitched just enough to include everyone within earshot. “If Naomi gets one more compliment, she’s going to levitate.”
“The ring’s throwing light like a disco ball. I think it just blinded Charles,” Georgina said, snagging a chocolate-covered strawberry.
“I warned him anything visible from space would be a liability,” Mason inserted.
Glasses clinked down the line in a lazy ripple.
Laurent tapped his lowball against Rafael’s. “I like Charles. He’s a bit like a French official I once blackmailed.”
“That’s not even a joke, is it?” Lillian said, not quite smiling.
“They’re perfect for each other,” Bea said, as she watched Naomi tilt her chin just so for another photo.
“She can teach him how to deliver an apology that somehow raises polling numbers,” Hunter agreed.
One of the men beside Lillian added, “He can make them retract opening-night reviews.”
“That’s why it’ll work,” Gage said.
Rafael didn’t look up, just set his glass down with a soft tap. “Maybe. But that’s not why it’ll matter.”
When the speeches ended and the music swelled, Naomi and Charles stepped out like royalty.
The lights dimmed to a golden hue. The roses were luminescent under soft uplighting. It was so obscenely romantic that Bea knew, by morning, this moment would be splashed across every society magazine in the Republic.
Bea watched them sway to the live music, perfectly choreographed.
“Walk with me.”
She looked up at Gage, nodded, and set her napkin aside. His fingers brushed the inside of her wrist before settling at her lower back. They moved past the banquet tables and through a low arch flanked with rose vines.
The air was cooler. Gage shrugged off his jacket and settled it over her shoulders as if it were protocol. It was still warm from his skin. She breathed him in.
