The Safe Bet (Hidden Truths #1)(23)
The texts had made her nervous. The red envelope had tripped her up a bit, making her more alert. More cautious. But the flowers—the flowers felt different. Perhaps it was the connection to the grave, to her mother, that was making her ready to run to the bathroom and throw up.
“No note,” Michael said upon approach. “Any idea who sent them?”
“I don’t know. It’s no big deal.” Only it really is. She started for the elevator, but Michael grasped her arm.
“Kate, what’s going on?”
She gulped and turned to face him. “The flowers are probably from someone who knew my mother. Someone left the same white tulips at her grave when I visited last weekend.”
His hand slipped from her forearm to her wrist, and he pulled her closer to him. The gentleness of his grip, despite his massive strength, surprised her. “You’re going to drop those,” she said, her gaze drawn to the vase, although she wanted it nowhere near her room.
“Do you want me to leave the flowers down here?”
They were close. Their bodies would have been touching if it weren’t for the massive vase between them. “Yes, please,” she whispered while looking up at him, unable to hide the emotion brewing inside of her.
He released his grip on her and walked to the nearby lounge area. He set the vase down and quickly came back. “Let me take you to your room.” It was a statement, not a question.
She stared at the floor in silence as the elevator moved to the top floor.
“Will you let me inside and tell me what’s really going on?” he asked once they reached her room.
She searched her bag for the keycard. “I’m fine.” She turned to open the door but shuddered when his hand touched her back.
“I may be a bit cold-hearted when it comes to women, but I’m always there for a friend.” His voice was low and raspy.
“Are we friends?” she asked, her back still to him.
“I think so.”
“Then I’d better say goodnight now.”
She had no idea what she would do once inside her room. She knew it would be easy for her to lose herself in his arms. To forget her confusion and fear.
But then wouldn’t Michael become just another problem?
She felt a little cold when his hand left her back. She pushed open her door, nervous that she would change her mind. “Goodnight, Michael,” she said as she turned to face him.
“See you tomorrow?” he asked, pressing his palm against the wall outside the door frame.
Kate hesitated for a moment. “Probably not until the gala. I’ll be working in the ballroom to make sure all the preparations are complete.”
He pushed away from the wall and shoved his hands back into his shorts pockets. “Okay. Well, goodnight, then.”
Like wings breaking from a crystal butterfly, she found her body shattering at that moment as she watched him walk away when all she really wanted was for him to stay.
CHAPTER EIGHT
IT WAS FRIDAY AFTERNOON. KATE hadn’t seen or heard from Michael since he dropped her off at her room, and she also hadn’t received any other messages or deliveries from her mystery stalker. Of course, her father had called her numerous times—she assumed to push the topic of her return home—but she always put him to voicemail. She felt guilty, but she needed to focus. Besides, she would be going home soon.
She had spent the last day and a half working nonstop on the Maddox Gala. And everything for the ball was about as perfect as it could be for such a last-minute event.
Kate walked around the ballroom, making sure everything was decorated as spectacularly as she had imagined. And it was. The designer had done a fantastic job. The room looked sleek and sophisticated. The ballroom had a baby grand piano, large crystal chandelier, two stages (one for the orchestra and another for the auction), and plenty of room for dancing. Thirty tables surrounded the dance floor. The ice blue linens with metallic overlays and silver chairs would be enhanced by the vases of fresh, cream-colored roses that would be placed tomorrow as centerpieces. Kate’s favorite part of the ballroom were the two terraces. On each, French doors opened out onto a romantic and cozy overlook: one of the city, the other of the hotels massive rose garden. Kate could picture the band playing with the doors open, the fresh September air ventilating the room. It would be perfect . . . she hoped.
She smiled and took a seat at one of the tables. She was waiting for her friend Joseph, the caterer. He’d arrived early that morning but had been busy shopping for his menu. She tapped her short, pink nails on the table in front of her and reached for her phone. With it, she began to research Michael on the internet.
Kate scrolled down the page of web hits until she found an article that had been published in GQ a few years earlier. Next to the article was a photo of Michael in his marine’s uniform. He looked like a man not to be reckoned with in a business suit, but in his military uniform, he looked downright dangerous.
She averted her eyes from the photo, needing to still her pulse, and began reading the article.
Michael Maddox is a real-life superhero. He is a man whom men dream of becoming and women fantasize about. He is an American military hero.
But today? Today he is dressed in a custom-fitted Ralph Lauren three-piece suit and sitting across from the board of directors for a company he just sold for three-hundred million dollars. Today, Michael Maddox is a multi-millionaire.