Hoping to sound nonchalant, she asked, “Why didn’t you bring someone from your security team?”
He shot her a quick glance. “The hotel arranged amped up security for the event. You want to tell me why you’re worried?”
Nice try.“I’m fine.”
He hitched a brow but said nothing.
Though she’d taken a risk leaving the compound, the chance Ray’s accomplice would attack her in a crowded ballroom, surrounded by security, seemed unlikely. Telling herself that didn’t mitigate her fear. Anxiety hounded her all the way into the district.
When Colton pulled up to the D.C. Marriott Hotel entrance, one of two valets whisked open Brigit’s door and she stepped out. “Welcome, ma’am.”
“Welcome to Wardman Park, Mr. Mitus,” said the second valet. “Your bags will be taken to the Presidential Suite, tenth floor. Registration has your room keys.”
Colton handed his car key and a folded twenty to the valet, then offered Brigit his arm. “You look gorgeous.”
Her heart fluttered. Holding his gaze, she slid her hand through the crook of his elbow and whispered, “I’m glad you like.”
His confident smile was both breathtaking and empowering. “Showtime, Mitus style. Ready?”
With a confident nod, she set her sights on the entryway and they breezed into the building.
In the center of the hotel’s spacious and pristine lobby stood a lighted obelisk surrounded by a squared bench with maroon cushions. The dusk-colored dome-shaped ceiling resembled a planetarium. As a child, she and her dad would visit the museum every Father’s Day. Staring up at the magical light show, they’d pretend to be astronauts journeying through space. Severing the bittersweet father-daughter memories, she set her sights toward registration.
“Good afternoon,” said the clerk. “Checking in?”
“Yes. Colton Mitus.”
The clerk clicked the keyboard. “Yes, sir, we have you in two Presidential Suites, located in Center Tower. Elevators are through the lobby, down the hallway, on your left. The Grand Ballroom is right around that corner.” Like a flight attendant, he pointed with both hands, then placed their keycards on the counter. “Enjoy your stay.”
Colton’s phone buzzed and he lifted it from his tuxedo breast pocket. “Crockett’s here.”
Excusing herself, she scooped the train of the Dior gown, and headed toward the restroom as her Jimmy Choos tip-tapped on the shiny marble floor. On the ride down, she’d wondered why Colton hadn’t brought Alexandra Reed. Was their relationship clandestine? Was she unavailable? Maybe she was Crockett’s date. As Mitus Conglomerate’s wealth manager, Brigit wouldn’t draw suspicion on Colton’s arm. Perhaps Alexandra would. And so what if Alexandra was special? The Mitus compound was a safe place to live, Colton was a good time, and she was more connected to Francesco than she’d been in years. But the nagging thought wouldn’t go away.
The restroom was empty. After reapplying lip gloss, she checked her beehive updo, ensuring the ten thousand bobby pins were still doing their ten thousand jobs.
Earlier that afternoon, Taylor had fussed over Brigit like a mother hen and had driven Red insane while Red pinned Brigit’s hair into an elegant beehive updo. Brigit had selected the couture eggplant purple halter gown, and while this was no ball and she no princess, she’d never attended such a grand event on the arm of a cohost.
Tugging open the door, she startled. A man wearing a baseball cap, baggy jeans and a blue T-shirt loitered in the alcove. As he turned, he lifted something from his pocket. In a moment of panic, she started to bolt, but tripped on the dress and banged into the wall.
“Ouch, that’s gotta hurt. You okay?” the man asked.
Brigit tasted the panic. Trembling, she pushed off the wall and faced him. To her relief, the stranger gripped his cell phone, not a gun.
“No coordination.” Brigit tucked her evening bag under her arm, lifted her dress and walked with care toward the lobby.I’m going to lose my mind. Relax. Ray is behind bars and his accomplice long gone.
In a sea of black tuxes, Colton stood out like a beacon in his white jacket. Confidence, charisma, and a commanding presence followed wherever he went. Though engrossed in a conversation, he looked in her direction. With each step her skin warmed. She couldn’t wait to wrap her fingers around his bulging bicep. For support, of course.
“Brigit, this is Crockett Wilde, my cohost,” said Colton. “Crockett, this is my Brigit.”
Her heart skipped a beat.Did he call me his?“Good to meet you, Crockett. I’m Colton’swealth manager, Brigit Farnay.”
With short brown hair and piercing blue eyes, Crockett stood eye level with Colton and looked more like Colton’s cousin than his real one did. “Pleasure, Brigit.” Crockett shook her hand.
“Nice lilt. Where are you from?”
Crockett smiled. “The Lone Star State.”
“We’ve got a menu snafu and need to find the event manager,” Colton said. “I’ll catch up with you in the ballroom.” Before waiting for her reply, the two men took off.
