“Trust me.”
She stared at me for a long moment, a mix of suspicion, curiosity, and nerves clouding her eyes. Then she looked at Rielle and seemed to remember she was in the presence of one of her literary heroes. And she remembered trusting me was starting to come easy to her.
“Okay,” she said, her voice softer.
I kept my hand on her until we were seated in the main room. We were close to the stage but angled slightly away from the crowd. Just what I wanted—private enough for what I had in mind, public enough for her to feel the spiciness of almost being seen.
Theory leaned toward me as the lights dimmed. “Did you pay for all this?”
I had requested and received some upgrades for security reasons, but…
“No.”
She gave me a look. Damn. She knew me more than I realized.
“I paid forsomeof it.”
“Targen.”
“I’m a sponsor of art.”
“Boy!”
“A whole modern-day patron out here.”
She shook her head, but I could see the excitement she was trying to hold in. She kept looking toward the stage as her fingers worried the edge of the program. I put my hand over her bouncing knee.
“Relax,milaya.”
“I am relaxed,” she lied.
Silently, I tapped her knee. She stuck out her tongue, but the bouncing stopped.
“You happy?” I asked.
I had to stop myself from holding my breath. Her face softened. She looked open. She looked like she was happy. She looked like she was…mine.
“Yeah. I am,” she admitted.
That was all I needed.
Rielle stepped onstage to warm applause. She read short passages from her upcoming book. After the last one, she waited for the room to settle again.
“I have one more piece for you tonight,” she said into the microphone. “This one is original, and it was given to me by someone who, like me, understands that desire and passion can get real messy.”
Theory’s head whipped toward me. My hand slid from her knee to her thigh. Her eyes narrowed. I looked at the stage like I had no idea what was happening.
“This piece is simply called ‘Honey.’ The artist said it started as a poem, but it didn't quite manifest that way. I think it came out exactly as it was supposed to,” Rielle said.
Theory breathed out softly. “Targen?—”
I leaned close enough for my lips to brush the shell of her ear.
“Just listen,” I whispered.
Rielle lowered her voice, made it even richer and as smooth as good whiskey.
“Honey.”
