“His name is Wyatt,” I remind her.
“Whatever.” She shrugs and shimmies into her dress, looking every inch the sultry seductress in black sequins and red lipstick she’s trying to be. She grabs her clutch bag. “Come on, let’s go.”
I take a last glance at my apartment. It’s funny being here after spending the week at Zach’s. I don’t feel like the same woman who broke down in tears and fell tothe floor.
I’m stronger. Happier.
So damn happy, it’s stupid, actually. And most of that is thanks to the man who can’t stop messaging me.
The drive to the Grand Liberty Hotel takes longer than normal, due to the line of cars slowly making their way up the drive. Zach only messages twice asking where the hell we are, which is kind of a miracle really.
Another guard wearing a black suit and tie, complete with earpiece, opens the car door before the driver can climb out, his stance wide and his gaze scanning the area like he’s ready to take a bullet for us. Romy audibly sighs as she swings her legs out, the sequins on her dress catching the moonlight.
“Okay, I take it back,” she murmurs as the guard offers her a hand. “Maybe a reverse harem security situation is what I need right now.”
“Romy,” I warn, stepping out after her. Because seriously, she’s actually fluttering her lashes at him.
But she ignores me. “Do you escort all the guests inside, or is this a special service?” she asks him.
The guard doesn’t crack a smile. “Mr. Fitzgerald has requested I stay with Miss Delaney. You’re to be walked through the west entrance, no stopping, no having photos taken on the red carpet.”
Of course Zach has. I try not to smile.
Romy wiggles her fingers at me behind his back, mouthing Mr. Fitzgerald with an exaggerated swoon. I’m too busy trying not to trip on the hem of my dress to respond.
We follow the security guard through a side door and into a hallway draped with white linens and soft golden lights. The sound of strings swells ahead, low and romantic, matched by the buzz of voices and laughter drifting outfrom the ballroom. My heels click against the marble floor, the scent of candles and roses wrapping around us like silk.
The security guard murmurs into his hand. Romy’s eyes meet mine, and she looks so stupidly excited at him doing his job.
“Ma’am,” the security guard says, his hand against his earpiece. “If you’ll follow me, Mr. Fitzgerald will be with you in five minutes.
“Do you want me to follow you too?” Romy asks him, tipping her head to the side.
The guard’s eyebrows lift. “I ah…”
She laughs softly. “It’s okay. I think we all know who the prize is here.” She grins at me. “I’ll get us a drink. Champagne?”
“Yes please.”
She disappears inside the ballroom and the guard puts his hand so lightly against my back I can barely feel it.
“Come with me,” he says, and I do exactly as he asks, because I wouldn’t put it past Zach to tell him to carry me in if he has to.
Not that I think I’d hate that. Not one little bit.
thirty
SADIE
The Grand Liberty’s ballroom has been transformed, thanks to Autumn’s clever eye for detail. Soft lighting glows from crystal chandeliers. Massive floral arrangements line the walls. There’s art everywhere; statues, prints, glowing digital panels that change every few seconds. Expensively dressed couples weave among them, glasses of champagne in hand.
It’s so beautiful, and I can’t wait to find Autumn to congratulate her.
Romy walks back over carrying two glasses of champagne. She passes one to me. “Okay. This is officially better than a billionaire romance.”
“Which part?” I ask, trying not to smile. She hasn’t been to a gala before. Nor have I, for that matter. “The bit before or after he breaks her heart.”
She blinks. “Not sure. But if any of these men want to break somebody’s heart, I volunteer as tribute.”
