At this point I’m beginning to wish I didn’t accept my plus-one invitation. Not that I’m worried about how Carter will behave; never that, the man has chameleon-like abilities and can fit into any situation with ease. And he does it with a class and genuineness the majority of people surrounding me lack, but even if he didn’t, I wouldn’t care.
I like Carter for Carter. Rough edges and middle-class up bringing and flaws. All of him.
My fear stems from him seeing me—thisOlivia—for the first time.
Tonight I have in place the cool, confident façade I’ve perfected over the years. The one I hide behind. The one I’ve never fully put on in front of Carter because we’ve not ventured into this part of my life as a couple in all the months we’ve been together.
Will the real Olivia repulse him?
“Oh my!”
I glance at the woman across from me. Meredith? Marjorie? Monique?—not that the woman’s name matters—her breathy exclamation and the exaggerated hand fanning her face has drawn the attention of our small group.
Like a choreographed routine, everyone turns to see what Meredith/Marjorie/Monique is looking at.
When my gaze lands on what has the other woman fanning herself, all the air leaves my lungs. And the butterflies in my stomach morph into peacocks—strutting and flapping in full-blown glory. But it’s my heart that suffers the biggest reaction. It stops. Then slams against my ribcage in accelerated beats that echo throughout my whole body.
Carter.
Like I’ve never seen him.
He’s wearing a tux. No. He’s not wearing it—he’s owning it.
It’s as though the garment was specifically designed for him, not made for any man to wear, designedfor him.
Armani has to be missing a model because he is currently striding across the room, every eye on him, as he makes his way to me.
The whole way his gaze holds mine; not once does he look away, and the twitch of his lips tells me he’s thinking the most scandalous things. It makes wicked images flash through my mind and I struggle to stand still—to keep my expression neutral.
That proves extremely difficult when Carter walks with such commanding presence—such purpose—that every person in the room is helpless to look away. All sound ceases as if everyone waits with bated breath, with electric anticipation, for him to reach his prey.
“Dear Lord, he’s coming this way,” someone to my right murmurs.
I smile. My first genuine smile of the night.
For the first time in my life I don’t care that I am about to become the center of attention. Don’t care people will be whispering behind my back.
Definitely don’t care that the minute he stands in front of me the whole room will know I’m his.
I hold my breath. Count the steps Carter takes until he stands so close he breaches my personal space.
I don’t need space when it comes to him. Not any more.
“Carter.” His name is a soft sigh of air through my lips.
He smiles down at me. “Olivia, as usual, you steal my breath.” Holding out his hand, he says, “Come dance with me.”
I frown at the use of my full name, but slip my hand into his outstretched one. Our fingers instantly entwine and I forget my momentary confusion.
He takes my glass and hands it to one of the passing waiters, and it isn’t until he pulls me into his arms and begins to move to the music that I realize something is wrong. He never holds me at a distance when I’m in his arms and he never calls me Olivia, always Livi or Princess.
I bite my lip, worrying over verbalizing my concern.
“Sorry I’m late. Today’s delivery was late but I left Garrett and Devon in charge as soon as I could.”
The reminder of why we didn’t arrive together, that it isn’t stepping into my world that kept him away, and probably accounts for the tension I’m feeling, has me relaxing against him. “No problem. Business always comes first.”
“No, Olivia.Youalways come first,” he whispers in my ear. “In and out of the bedroom.”
