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“Thank you so much for getting it, you’re always so thoughtful.” I turn to smile at the woman with saccharine politeness. “I was worried he might stop being so attentive once we got engaged, but he’s actually become even more considerate.”
“Well, you never know,” Ford plays along smoothly. “You might get cold feet before the wedding. Can’t risk that happening.”
“I am feeling a bit chilly in this theater,” I lie without hesitation. “Could I borrow your jacket?”
The woman looks vaguely familiar—I think I saw her at one of the other social events—but I can’t remember any details. What’s more important is the way she clearly wants to say something catty, her mouth twisting before she apparently thinks better of it. She forces a tight smile, tells Ford it was lovely seeing him, and walks away with obvious reluctance.
“Who the hell was she?” I ask in a low voice, my tone sharper than I intended.
Ford laughs with genuine delight. “I had no idea you had such a possessive streak. I like it.”
His voice is quiet enough that no one else can overhear, which means this can’t be for the charade. Right? I don’t know anymore. Everything feels so confusing in my head. I might be pretending to be his fiancée, but that territorial display was unnecessary for maintaining our cover. I just wasn’t thinking clearly.
I smile at him but step back slightly. I need some space to clear my head, but I can’t leave now. The performance is about to begin.
I return to the others as the only viable option. Liam is glaring in Ford’s direction for some incomprehensible reason, but I’ve given up trying to understand that man’s thought processes. I slip back between Hayden and Gabriel, sip my drink, and avoid conversation with anyone.
Clearly, I’m not managing to keep my emotions in check as well as I’d hoped.
The chime sounds to signal it’s time to take our seats, and I quickly finish the rest of my drink. Gabriel pauses as the others file toward the theater entrance, watching me with obvious amusement. “You’re supposed to savor that, you know.”
“I can’t bring it inside with me.” I set the empty glass on one of the small tables. “All right, I’m ready.”
He offers me his arm with a gallant gesture. “Onward, to the best seats in the house.”
I laugh despite my complicated mood. “We don’t have the best seats in the house. The people backstage do.”
They get to be right up close to all the beautiful action, helping create the magic.
Gabriel gets a thoughtful expression. “I suppose you’re right,” he says, and suddenly he’s tugging me down a side corridor—toward the backstage area.
“What are you doing?” I hiss, but we’ve already reached one of the backstage doors and Gabriel is strolling through like he owns the place.
“Something you should understand about wealthy people,” he murmurs in my ear as we slip through the dimly lit space, crew members rushing around us preparing for the first act. “They always act like they belong everywhere, like they deserve everything, like the world is theirs by natural right. Now, that’s not true, but you’d be amazed what you can get away with simply by acting like you belong.”
“But what if we get caught?” I whisper, and as if summoned by my words, a woman wearing all black with a headset appears.
“Excuse me,” she says sharply. “What are you doing back here?”
“My sincere apologies.” Gabriel extends his hand, allowing his accent to become more pronounced. “I was one of the benefactors who helped fund the renovations. I wanted to give my lovely companion here a quick behind-the-scenes tour to show her that her money was well spent, before the performance begins.”
The woman—clearly the stage manager—looks torn. She obviously doesn’t want us in her backstage area, but we’re supposedly donors who helped restore this theater.
“Just be out of here before we call places,” she says after a moment of internal debate.
“Thank you so very much,” Gabriel says with genuine gratitude.
She hurries away, calling over her shoulder, “And don’t touch anything!”
I have to smother my laughter as Gabriel guides me to a spot near the main curtain where we can observe all the backstage activity without being in anyone’s way.
It’s magical, watching the dancers move gracefully in their elaborate costumes, seeing all the gorgeous detail work up close, everyone bustling around with focused energy. Some people might think seeing behind the curtain would ruin the illusion, but for me it only makes everything more enchanting. I’m caught up in the excitement that fills the entire backstage area.
“Places!” comes a voice over the intercom system.
“Places,” I hear various crew and cast members echoing to each other.
“That’s our cue,” Gabriel whispers.
