As soon as I fasten the last few hook and eye closures on her silk and lace ball gown, we take a few selfies out on the patio. “I’m sorry this hasn’t been as much of a ‘girls’ weekend’ as it was supposed to be.”
“Sloane, I’m in one of the fanciest hotels on the planet, had an amazing spa day with my best friend, and now? I’m going to the party of the year. In a dress that probably costs more thanBeauty and Stylepaid me this weekend. Except for the whole danger and death portion of the trip…I’ve had the time of my life.”
“Me too.” We hug one more time—albeit gently so we don’t wrinkle—and she nods at the door.
“Go. I’ll hang back here for a couple of minutes so the two of you can smooch a bit. Plus, Jacob isn’t supposed to be here for another ten minutes.”
With one last squeeze of her hand, I head for the door and my very handsome, very protective date.
* * *
Griff
Don’t tug at your bow tie.
The damn thing feels like it’s choking me. This is only the fourth time in my life I’ve put on a tux, and while this one—a midnight blue number with a deep-cut vest—was tailored to my exact measurements, the bow tie still chafes.
Or maybe what chafes is that I needed help with it. And the cufflinks. Sloane didn’t make a big deal of it, but I hate having to rely on anyone for something so basic.
While I wait for Sloane to finish getting ready, I double check the knife strapped to my calf and practice drawing the gun from a special pocket sewn into the inside of the vest. With the rest of the team trying to zero in on Volkov’s location, tonight should be nothing but a party full of pompous executives, music, and the official unveiling of this year’s Christmas Book.
Glasses, watch, phone…all fully charged. I’m as prepared as I can be. Until the bedroom door opens and Sloane glides toward me.
“Holy fuck.”
She spins, causing the dress to flare out around her and show me a long, toned expanse of leg, then laughs. God, I wish I could hear the sound.
“You’re not going to be able to sit down all night, are you?” I slide my hand along her waist, the fabric soft under my fingers.
“Probably not.” She presses a quick kiss to my lips before retrieving her clutch from the table.
“Are you wearing your panic button?” I hate asking. Hate that she has to even worry about that when we’re supposed to be going to a party and having fun.
Sloane touches a spot under her left arm, her gaze fixed on the floor. “This is the only place I could put it.”
“Hey.” Skimming a knuckle along her jaw, I wait for her to look up at me. “What’s wrong? You’re wearing it. That’s the important thing. We shouldn’t need it. It’s a party. I’m not planning on leaving your side.”
“We haven’t heard from Dimitri in two days. I’m scared, Griff.”
Her breath ghosts over my cheek, warm, scented with mint, and the urge to keep her here, to carry her back to our bedroom and figure out how to get her out of that dress—once I kick Marina out—is almost too strong to ignore.
“Maybe no one’s heard from him because he knows we’re close to tracking him down and he’s in hiding. Hold on to that hope for tonight, Sloane. This is your night. The unveiling of the Christmas Book. You should be able to enjoy it.”
“I will. As long as you’re with me,” she says, and I wish these glasses had the ability to save the words scrolling across the lenses forever. My heart belongs to Sloane. Now and forever if she’ll have me, and soon, I won’t be able to stop myself from confessing just how far I’ve fallen for her.
Pulling her close enough she can probably feel the solid weight of the gun in my vest pocket, I cup the back of her neck. My fingers—my real ones—graze the rough skin where she once bore that shitstain’s mark, and she shudders.
Dammit. Being reminded of him is the last thing she needs right now.
“Don’t go there,” I whisper. “You survived. Hell, you did more than that.” Turning us so we’re facing the full-length mirror on the wall next to the door, I nod at the reflection. “Look at yourself. What do you see?”
She lifts her gaze, and her lower lip wobbles until she traps it between her teeth. After a long moment, she sighs, the motion causing her chest to heave. “I see an imposter.”
“No.” Fuck. This isn’t going the way I intended. “No. You arenotan imposter. I see a woman with poise and confidence. A woman who knows exactly who she is and what she wants. I seeyou, Sloane. The real you. And I love you.”
She sucks in a sharp breath, and if I could kick myself as hard as I wanted to, I’d end up in next week.
“Don’t say anything, sweetheart. I know it’s too soon. Until five seconds ago, I’d promised myself I wouldn’t tell you until we were home. Back in San Diego. But, dammit. I can’t help it. You’re it for me, and tonight, you’re going to shine in front of everyone.” Carefully, so I don’t mess up her makeup, I touch my lips to hers, then kiss the sensitive spot behind her ear and lower my voice. “We’ll dance. We’ll mingle. And when the party’s over, we’ll come back here and I’ll hold you all night. Every night, if you’ll let me.”
