“I need help with the zipper,” she says.
“In a minute. Let me just look at you.”
She watches as I stalk toward her. Her gaze drags down my body. “You look really good in that tux.”
“Not as good as you look in this dress.”
“I chose it because of the color. I remember how you kept checking me out in my red summer dress when we were walking down the strip in Vegas.”
I grin as my eyes wander over every inch of her. “Oh, that had nothing to do with the color. I just couldn’t stop staring at your legs. But I do believe red is quickly becoming my new favorite color.”
She instantly blushes. “Do you think we’ll ever remember that night?”
I walk behind her, placing a tender kiss on her shoulder before my hand reaches her zipper. “I hope so. But if not, I’m just happy it brought me here.”
I slowly zip her up, smoothing my hand over the curve of her spine. She’s so fucking beautiful.
“Me too,” she answers, turning in my arms to place a soft kiss on my lips. “But it would still be nice to know who came up with the idea.”
She stares at me innocently, batting her eyelashes. My mouth gapes open. “You think it was me!”
“Well, it wasn’t me.” She laughs. “I would have been way too scared to mess up our friendship.”
“But I wouldn’t? I pined after you for months like one of those sad heroes from those romance novels you have lying all over the apartment.”
Her eyes crinkle with amusement. “It’s called yearning, Hollis. Get it right.”
“Pretty sure it’s just called jacking off every morning with your name on my lips.”
Her mouth falls open, and we both laugh. “You’re probably right, though,” I admit. “I am the one who kissed you that night. I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m the one who thought up the idea of getting married. Doesn’t alcohol bring out your deepest desires?”
Her eyes soften. “So you’re saying that when we were blackout drunk, your deepest desire wasn’t to get me naked, but to propose marriage?”
“Hell yeah,” I answer. “Why have one night when you can have them all?”
When Pres asked if I was nervous about tonight, I told her no. I was used to the glitz and glamour of wealthy people. I owned an ultra-exclusive nightclub that celebrities frequented.
This was basically the same thing, right?
It was not.
As soon as we stepped out of the limo, I knew I was in over my head. There were cameras flashing, people shouting, and I couldn’t see a damn thing.
“Don’t look at the camera. Save your eyes for the red carpet,” Pres says, as I button my jacket and wrap an arm around her.
“Now you tell me.”
The whole family is here for Lance. He’s been in the industry for decades, and tonight he’s being honored with a lifetime achievement award in artist management. It’s basically the equivalent of a Grammy in his field, which is why there is so much press. Nearly every artist Lance represents is here, as well as a bunch of other celebs and people in the industry.
The family met for dinner at a restaurant owned by one of Lance’s old friends. He closed the whole place to accommodate us, allowing everyone to enjoy the meal without worrying about cameras or Manic fans.
That part of the evening is over, though.
Hendrix and Zara are ahead of us and getting most of the attention. His arm is protectively around her waist as the paparazzi try to get their attention. They throw out questions about his health and updates about the band. He gives a polite wave, ignoring their questions and requests to stop for photos.
Pres and I do the same until?—
“Presley! Do you have a response to the rumors that your ex threatened to release a sex tape of you?”
