Mile High (Up in the Air #2)(67)
I took a deep breath, suddenly panicky about the things coming out of my mouth. I had never said anything quite so revealing to him before. “But I don’t need any of that other stuff,” I said firmly.
“Nonetheless, you have it,” he murmured, burying his face in my neck. He began to suckle me there, and I melted. He pulled back abruptly. “I don’t want to muss you up for your first red carpet.”
I was breathless when I responded. “At least I’m not nervous now. I can’t even remember why I should care enough to be nervous. I only care about getting you to touch me again.”
He threw his head back and laughed. It was his happy laugh, and I felt my whole body get soft, my smile as our eyes met unmistakably tender. I didn’t think there was much I wouldn’t do to make him that happy.
And yet I had done so little to make him so. It seemed miraculous to me that my every small gesture seemed to affect him so.
He was still giving me that boyish smile as the car stopped. The gala was apparently very close to his home.
James handed me out of the car expertly, his hand falling swiftly to my waist. He ushered me through the press as though it were a dance, the cameras snapping at us in quick succession. I plastered my most polished smile on my face. It was a photo-ready smile, if a touch cool. I had perfected it at a young age.
Growing up fast and painfully had taught me that smile. Yes, it was polished, but I had earned that polish.
A few photographers shouted out some rather rude comments, but we both ignored them. They were acting that way for a reaction, and it was the last thing I would give them. My smile never even slipped.
James kissed my forehead when we finally made our way into the grand entrance of the building.
“You’re a natural. Those bloodhounds can take some getting used to.”
My mind had already moved past the strange red carpet experience when I saw a doorway into some kind of elaborate ballroom. “Oh, James, I don’t know how to dance. I didn’t even think of it.”
He kissed my forehead again, and I caught the edge of his smile at the top of my vision. “You only need to dance with me, Love. And we know all too well that if I lead, you know how to follow, even without experience.”
I tried to tell myself that he may well be right. Perhaps it would just be that easy. I felt the nerves clench in my stomach nonetheless.
A seemingly endless stream of introductions and polite mingling began almost immediately. I gathered from some of the pleasantries exchanged that this was a gala that his mother had been involved with before she’d passed. She had made the charity rounds, I learned, donating generous amounts of both her time and money. James had mentioned briefly that it was a fundraiser for cancer research at a prominent New York hospital. I tried to say the right things when addressed, but I felt quickly out of my depth. I had never been to anything like the gala before, and I was overwhelmed by all of the affluent company I was suddenly keeping. It was daunting, to say the least.
James, for his part, was a perfect date for such an event, including me in conversations that really had nothing to do with me, and keeping a warm hand on my hip, often sending warm, reassuring smiles my way. He seemed content just to have me at his side. But I just felt awkward, as though I had no purpose there. The introductions quickly became a blur for me. Most of the people I met hadn’t left enough of an impression to put a face with a name even moments after moving on. There were a few exceptions.
After mingling for a solid hour, we were approached by the most austere looking woman I had ever seen in my life. She had to be seventy, with silver hair pulled back into a severe bun, and a navy gown that went from her neckline to her toes, the stark lines showing a sparse figure.
She stood directly in front of us before she spoke. Her tone was icy, her accent crisp and British.
“James. And how are you this evening?”
His eyes were cold as he studied the woman, but the moment he spoke, I detected a note of something I’d never heard from him before. It was almost as if he affected a slightly sneering tone, mimicking her accent just enough to goad her. I watched him in fascination. “Aunt Mildred. I am well. And how are you this fine evening?”
Her brow arched. I thought that to her it may have been a way of answering. She never spared me a glance. “Well enough. I have been hearing things about you, though. Disturbing things. Even more disturbing than your usual debaucheries. Please tell me that you haven’t invited a penniless flight attendant to live in one of your homes.”
I stiffened, but still couldn’t look away from James. How did everyone seem to know that we had moved in together before it had even happened? I had barely even agreed to the arrangement.
His eyes began to twinkle, but it wasn’t a good kind of twinkle. It was as though he had engaged this woman in hostile banter too many times to count, and I thought he just might look forward to offending her. “Aunt Mildred, meet my girlfriend, Bianca. Bianca, this is my charming Aunt Mildred.”
The awful woman just slanted me a malevolent stare, giving me a sneer.
“Now, now, Auntie,” James began in that goading tone, “you had better play nice with my dearest Bianca. I have not invited her to live in one of my homes. I have welcomed her into all of them. And though I know it would break your heart if anything were to ever happen to me, you will be beholden to this angel to cover your living expenses when I pass away, as she will be my sole inheritor.”