He offers me a smile that tells me he doesn’t believe for a second that I’ll actually take time off, then leans down and presses a kiss to my cheek. “Stop making excuses and do it.”
The man has always known when to push me and when to let things go, and as he walks away toward where Savage and Gabe wait to start the welcome speech and where Mom now chats with Dani, eyeing us like she knows exactly what he was saying to me, I know this was one of the moments he knew pushing would only make it worse.
At least this is almost over.
Only a few more minutes until the official ceremony, which Savage promised to keep brief, then we can clear a lot of these people out of here; the mayor, the news crews, all the friends and business associates we invited. Even though we limited the guest list, it’s still hundreds of people crammed into the lobby.
Too many people.
Too many dangers.
I shiver and resume my pacing…
And watching.
People mill about, excited chatter filling the massive atrium lobby that Cass, Landon, Storm, Kennedy, and everyone else spent so much time perfecting. They take in the spectacle of the massive chandelier and ooh and aah over the other art deco designs sprinkled throughout the space.
It’s the kind of excitement that should be contagious.
I try to push away the anxiety threatening to overwhelm me, drawing in long, slow breaths. If anything did happen, I can’t risk having a shaky hand.
Steady.
My heartrate starts to slow, my breathing following suit, and I almost convince my body that there isn’t any reason to be worried when a flash of blond hair in my peripheral vision draws my attention.
Before I have a chance to turn fully toward it, Pope hustles over. He narrows his eyes on me, immediately seeing how tense I am. “Hey, we’re all set. Everything good here?”
I scan the crowd one more time and lock gazes with the head of hotel security. He nods toward me, letting me know that things are as they should be, and I turn to Pope. “We’re good.”
Saying the words out loud feels like tolling some sort of bell.
Like tempting fate.
Another shiver rolls through my spine, and a member of the hotel security team hustles up to the dais with a box in hand and holds it out toward me.
“What’s this?”
“It was just delivered to the front door.” He tilts his head toward the main entrance. “I didn’t want to let the delivery guy in since he wasn’t on the approved list.”
“Did you clear the box?”
He nods. “We checked it for explosives, and it was clean.”
Somehow, that doesn’t make me feel any better about a mysterious box showing up now.
I take it and slowly slide off the lid.
Pope shifts closer and looks over my shoulder. “What is it?”
An omen.
Tossing the lid to the side, I reach in and pull out a bottle of champagne—a very, very expensive bottle of Dom Pérignon Rosé Gold Methuselah.
Pope grabs it from my hand, examining the bottle. “Who the hell is this from?”
“I don’t know…”
It wouldn’t be unusual to receive a gift from one of our business connections on a day like this, but this is quite a gift.
