Page 130 of A Dangerous Kind of Love

He leans down, his voice brushing my ear. “Never.”

I glance back at him, narrowing my eyes a little. “You are shameless.”

“Mmm,” he hums, not even denying it.

He finishes and turns me toward him, smiling at me.

“You look incredible.”

“You do too.”

Michael’s hand finds mine as the city slides past the tinted windows of the SUV. He threads our fingers together, and I look down at our hands. I pull mine free and press my palm against his.

“You have a big hand.”

His mouth curves. “You know what they say about that.”

I shrug. “I wouldn’t. Yours is my only reference point.”

That earns a laugh, and I feel stupidly proud of myself. The SUV eases to a crawl, and I turn toward the window, drawn to the light ahead of us. We’re sitting in a line of cars outside the hotel downtown, one after another stretched down the block, each one waiting its turn at the entrance. The hotel rises above the street in glass and gold, every window lit, the exterior throwing light back onto the pavement and the cars lined up in front of it.

Men in uniforms move between the vehicles. They step in the second each one comes to a stop. People step out dressed in suits and dresses. The doors close, and the men are already at the next car, repeating the same motion without pause. I watch it happen over and over, my attention catching on the details—the way a man adjusts his cuff as soon as his shoes hit the pavement, the way a woman smooths her dress once before heading inside.

My hand settles over my lap, fingers brushing the fabric of my dress as I take in the way it fits, the heels on my feet, and the quiet space inside the SUV compared to everything waiting outside. In a few seconds, that door is going to open, and I’ll be stepping out into it with everyone else.

“Hey.” Michael’s voice pulls me back before I can spiral any further. I turn toward him, and he’s already watching me. “You good?”

I press my lips together and glance out the window again before answering. “I mean, define good. Because I might not be as ready for this as I told myself I was.”

That earns the smallest shift in his expression.

“Doll,” he says, reaching over and taking my hand. “You’re going to be fine.”

I narrow my eyes at him a little. “That confident, huh?”

“I am,” he answers easily. “And I’ll be right next to you the entire time. You don’t have to leave my side unless you want to.”

I hold his gaze. “Really?”

His mouth curves. “Really.”

“You’re not going to leave me to go make some secret business deals?” I narrow my eyes at him.

He laughs. “No.”

The SUV moves forward and stops. The door opens, and Michael steps out before turning back, offering me his hand. I take it and step out beside him. The first flash hits, then another, and another, bright enough that it throws off my vision for a second. Voices come in right behind it, loud and overlapping, his name getting called from every direction.

My shoulders pull tight. My chest locks up. I feel the urge to turn away, to step back, to get out of it, but I don’t. I hold myself where I am, forcing everything into place, even as the noise keeps coming, louder, closer, and impossible to ignore.

“Mr. Amato, look this way.”

“Mr. Amato, we heard you donated over five-million to the cause.”

I can feel my pulse everywhere, in my throat, in my hands, and in the way my grip tightens around his. Michael pulls me in at his side, my arm sliding into his, and I latch onto that.

“You’re okay,” he murmurs near my ear.

I focus on him. I don’t focus on the lights or the voices, and I keep walking.