Not hiding.
Just belonging.
We enter the foyer, and Bolt’s gaze travels from the high-beamed ceilings to the large chandeliers and cozy fireplaces.
“Nice.” He nods in approval, and for some reason, I enjoy seeing his reaction. Like I’m letting him into my world—even if it won’t be my world for much longer.
We approach the main ballroom, and I sigh with relief when I see Claude the banquet manager collecting the invitations.
“Good evening, Miss Nicoletta. We’ve missed you.”
“Yes, it’s been too long.”
Bolt stays still at my side. Doesn’t speak. Doesn’t shift.
I open my evening purse and pretend to look for the invitation. “I know I have it here somewhere.”
“No worries. You come to this function every year. The invitations are more of a formality and to keep out the uninvited.” Claude discreetly glances at Bolt.
I smile up at Bolt and then at Claude. “He’s my plus-one.”
“Of course, miss. Will your mother be joining us tonight?”
“No, Mother’s off at a spa on the Baja Coast.”
“Lucky her. Your father’s already arrived.” Claude motionstoward the entrance, and we glide into the opulent ballroom. “Enjoy your evening.”
Two people have now confirmed my father’s presence. I want to see him as much as I don’t.
Bolt leans into my ear. “I saw the look that guy gave me.”
“Just play the role. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Bolt’s understated black designer tux with a crisp white shirt from Elegant and Elite not only fits him perfectly, but it’s the perfect mix of formal and trendy with the open-neck shirt. Simple but very avant-garde—Marisol’s words, not mine.
The dress Marisol loaned me from her unlimited collection of couture dresses is exquisite. The woman’s closet resembled a small boutique, and with her help, I chose a beaded, backless Versace in taupe, because according to Marisol, I have an elegant back.
Together we make the perfect couple—if only for the night.
We walk into the main ballroom, and I immediately notice the women trying desperately to be discreet as their eyes rake over Bolt. Most of his tats are covered, except for the ones creeping up his neck, but he still screams outlaw, the way he moves like he owns every space he occupies.
Not in an obvious way, but no other man in the room has his combined height and width. It’s similar to seeing professional athletes. No one has to tell you—you just know by their size and the way they carry themselves that they’re different.
Different but, in a way, similar to the strategy I use dealing with these people. We both have an innate knowledge of our surroundings that can’t be taught or learned.
“Stop fidgeting,” I whisper, keeping my eyes forward.
“Can’t help it. Fuckin’ shirt is too tight.” He shrugs. “Feel like I’m in a goddamn straightjacket.”
“Smile. At least look like you’re enjoying yourself.” I glance up at his grimace. “Better yet, stop smiling.”
“Nicoletta?” a voice cuts through the air behind us.
CHAPTER 16
NICOLETTA
I freeze for only a fraction of a second, but Bolt notices.
