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The comment was almost the polar opposite of what he’d said in her doorway. He’d handed her a bouquet of roses and said, “Lily, my God. You’re a vision.”

She was about to open her mouth to tell him that Clive and Joanie knew, and that they could drop the act, but then the shithead hit the fan.

Emmett Webster, wearing an off-the-rack suit on his medium frame, a salesman’s smile on his peach-fuzz face, stepped into their little circle. “Lily of the Valley! Is that you?”

How had she ever found him attractive? And after what he’d done, he was downright ugly—with a forked tongue hiding behind his crooked teeth.

Half of her wanted to tell Marcus everything, here and now, but then she imagined him punching Emmett in the nose. Honestly, it wasn’t a bad picture, but she had more to consider than her own hurt feelings. This was a big night for Marcus, and for Joanie and Clive. Lily wasn’t going to make it about her.

“Emmett Webster.” He held out a hand to Marcus. “I’ll be presenting your award tonight on behalf of Mr. London. I wanted to extend a personal congratulations on your achievement. As a former designer, I have a deep appreciation for your work. It’ll be an honor, my friend.”

Unable to keep quiet, Lily let out an annoyed grunt.

“Thanks.” Marcus flicked a look at her as he pumped Emmett’s hand twice. Whether he’d sensed her nervousness, or felt the tension in the air, she couldn’t be sure, but next he rested his hand protectively on her lower back. “I can’t take all the credit. Meet the team at Cameron Designs: Clive and Joanie Cameron, and Lily. Who you already know?”

“We’ve met.” Emmett winked at her and she wanted to throw up. “Joanie, is it?” He held out a hand, which Joanie didn’t shake. Emmett awkwardly pulled back and folded his hands in front of him instead.

The reunion was interrupted by a voice crackling over the loudspeaker asking everyone to take their seats.

“I’ll see you up there,” Emmett said to Marcus, before slapping him in the arm.

Once he’d gone, Lily felt Marcus’s dark gaze on her. “How do you know that guy?”

“Just…from around.” She watched Emmett weave around the crowd to his seat, her stomach tossing in disgust.

“Come on.” Joanie hooked her arm in Lily’s. “Let’s find our seats.”

Marcus and Clive fell into step behind them as they made their way across the room to their assigned seats. White tablecloths with turquoise linen napkins and fine china decorated the table.

Cameron Designs had been seated with another small firm close to the stage. She was instantly grateful that London and Emmett weren’t also at their table. She’d file that under the “win” column.

After this dinner was over, and Marcus had given his speech, she would come clean about everything. But for now, she needed him to focus on his speech, and to accept the award he’d earned.

Maybe she’d wait until they were naked tonight to tell him the truth. When he could hold her and console her, and she could lose herself in him for the rest of the night. Yes, that sounded like a good plan to her.

The roast chicken was bland and the green beans were undercooked, but the subpar cuisine wasn’t the reason Marcus hadn’t eaten much.

As various members of the guild and fellow designers had stepped up to the mic to present awards, or talk about industry changes, he became aware of time ticking away the minutes until it was his turn.

The idea of hundreds of curious gazes locked on him, and worse—the inevitable applause he wasn’t sure he deserved—had caused his stomach to churn like waves in an angry ocean.

Lily sat to his left, Joanie and Clive to her left. An older guy with a big gut and a head full of graying hair sat to Marcus’s right. He was friendly and cheerful, but also sweating profusely. He’d reached up to mop his forehead at least five times during dinner. Marcus had worried about the man’s health for a moment before realizing that the stage lights were hot and shining partially on their table. And soon enough, Marcus would be under them and baking like a Thanksgiving turkey.

Dessert was served—his cue to step backstage. The presentation for the Designer of the Year award was next. He cleared his throat, sipped his water, and then tossed his napkin onto the table next to his uneaten slice of cake.

Before he stood, Lily reached for his hand under the tablecloth. “You’ve got this, Black.”

“Thanks.” He stole a glance at Clive, who lifted an eyebrow before turning his attention to his cake. Joanie was pecking a text into her phone.

Lily surprised him by leaning close. “If you start to feel nervous, just picture the audience in their underwear,” she whispered as she folded something into his palm. He thumbed the material—lace and silk. Her panties.

Fuck.

She smiled sweetly as she picked up her fork. As she ate a bite of her chocolate cake, he tried to remember the start of his speech…and his own name.

“You’ll pay for that,” he said under his breath, as he shoved the panties into his jacket pocket.

“I’m counting on it.” She beamed up at him. He could have kissed her. Would have, dammit, if not for them pretending they weren’t together. The panties would have to do. “Good luck.”