Page 67 of The Sweetest Return

Noelle saw it.

Camille pretended neither one of us had eyes.

“I see someone I need to avoid,” she said.

I looked from her to Malcolm. “That does not look like avoidance.”

“It is strategic.”

“Walking toward him?”

“I didn’t say the strategy was good.”

Malcolm lifted his glass slightly, and Camille rolled her eyes with such precision that I almost applauded.

“I’ll be back,” she said.

“No one asked.”

“I felt your curiosity.”

“You felt your guilt.”

She pointed at me without turning around. “Enjoy your evening.”

Then she moved toward Malcolm like she was going to war in designer heels.

Noelle leaned closer. “How long do we give them?”

“Before arguing or flirting?”

“Yes.”

“Two minutes.”

“That seems generous.”

“It’s a gala.”

Noelle smiled, then her eyes widened as she spotted someone near the far side of the room. “Oh! That’s Dr. Waverly. I need to say hi. She wrote one of my recommendation letters.”

“Go.”

“You sure?”

“I’m fine.”

She gave me a quick squeeze before disappearing into the crowd.

And then, for the first time since walking in, I stood alone and aware.

The music beneath the conversation. The silk gliding over my hips when I shifted. The perfume warming at my throat and wrists. The possibility that Andre Jones was somewhere in this hotel, either already here or on his way.

I had not seen him yet.

That was probably for the best.

My body had been doing enough foolishness since Thursday night without new material.