“Díos mio, Locke.” She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You let that moment with Sienna get to your head, didn’t you? We aren’t together, and just because I’m working for you doesn’t mean you own me. I was just playing their little games!”
Her voice dips lower at the end of that sentence, like she’s worried someone might overhear.
“That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? To get close to him?”
She’s right. I told her to do this, and to gain his trust.
Maybe I should have mentioned thathe’snot the only man I was hoping she’d get close to.
I cut that thought short before I let my imagination go too far. This whole situation is getting messier by the minute. I’m not sure she wants to be standing next to me, let alone ‘getting close’ to me, right now. I’m not sure I should want that either. Could it ever really work?
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” I say, shaking my head. “I just know what he’s capable of, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Her laugh comes out bitter. “I can take care of myself. Trust me. I’ve been doing it for a long time, and I’ve dealt with guys a hell of a lot scarier than that asshole.”
Even though I know she’s still underestimating what Luke is capable of, I believe her. The way she says it makes me wonder exactly how much of her past I don’t know. How much she’ll never tell me.
“I get it. I won’t intrude again. You’re not going anywhere near his place, though. I know what happens at those parties, and I won’t let you walk into that house of horrors.”
“You don’t get to tell me what I will and will not do!” she hisses, attempting to shove me away. It’s a cute effort, but I take hold of her arm instantly, pulling her in close.
“Don’t I?” I murmur, leaning in. “You’re my employee. You said it yourself.”
“Employee, not property,” she shoots back, baring her teeth. “What I do off the clock is none of your concern.”
Her defiance is intoxicating, a wildfire I have no business trying to tame. But a shadow in my peripheral vision reminds me we aren’t alone, and Luke isn’t the only one that might be watching. I know better than anyone that nothing good comes from making a scene at an event like this.
“Hate to break it to you, but you’re never off the clock with me,” I mutter. “You’d do well to remember exactly what’s at stake.” I finally release my hold on her arm, and my hand feels noticeably colder the moment we break contact.
She avoids my gaze as she adjusts her dress and mutters something about needing the restroom. She’s still playing her role, but I’m reeling.
Watching her leave, I realize with a sinking gut feeling that I’m not just worried about Luke taking her in a romantic sense. I’m worried about what might happen when I can’t be there to protect her and what he might try to take when he gets her alone.
When she returns, we both stay quiet. I know she’s upset about my interference, and I won’t push her any further.
Sitting down for dinner is a special kind of torture; her assigned seat is directly next to mine, while four other guests sit around the table with us. None of whom I know on a personal level.
The table feels much smaller than it looks. Each tiny movement we make is met with the subtle pressure of her shoulder or elbow brushing against mine. That, paired with the rhythmic clinking of silverware on porcelain, the heavy scent of roasted meat and red wine, and the loud,forced chatter in the confined space, is almost unbearable. I’m being pushed to my limit, and I haven’t even reached for my fork.
In the background, the director of the foundation speaks. His voice drones on, a dull and bleak soundtrack to my growing exasperation. He says something about their “mission and vision” that I’m only half paying attention to.
Instead, I’m captivated by the way the chandelier light glints off Arden’s necklace as she eats. Every time she tilts her head, the diamonds catch the light. It’s a subtle and cruel reminder of how brightly she truly shines and makes me wonder how many other eyes in this room might notice that same sparkle.
Each speech is harder to get through than the last. Although she still hasn’t spoken, Arden’s presence is heavy, and the familiar tension around us is becoming suffocating. She turns slightly to sip her water, and her arm grazing mine sends a shock shooting up my spine.
“You look like you’re about to break something,” she whispers. The words are so hushed they’re almost lost in the applause for a local donor. She doesn’t look at me, just keeps her eyes fixed on the stage with a polite smile plastered to her face.
“I’m fine,” I mutter back, but my jaw is so tight it aches.
“You’re brooding, Locke. It’d be clear from the back of the room.” She finally cuts a glance toward me, her eyes flashing with a mix of continued defiance and concern. “Let it go.”
I don’t answer. She turns her attention back to the stage, leaving me to simmer in silence again.
When it’s finally my turn to speak, the stage actually feels like an escape. I step toward the podium, relishing the cool, floral-scented air. It’s a relief from the heat of her presence beside me.
I stare out at the sea of faces, delivering the same polished speech I’ve given a dozen times before. I talk about the kind of legacy I want to leave and responsibility to the community. My voice comes outsmooth, even as my eyes instinctively scan the crowd for Luke’s shark-like grin.
I find him near the bar, watching not the stage, but the table I just left. Watching Arden.
