Page 19 of The Bossy Billionaire

“Okay, we need to go in,” Harrison says, breaking the moment, and I breathe out a sigh of relief.

It is then I feel a hand touch my lower back, and I turn my head to look up. Bright sparkling blues look deep into mine, and I watch Huxley as his jaw clenches slightly. My breath gets caught in my chest as I take him in. He looked handsome in his business suit on stage at the business summit last week and also when I see him in the shop, but Huxley Hamilton in a tuxedo is next level, and I grip my clutch in my hand tightly so I don’t fall at his feet.

“Good evening, Miss Bloomer,” he says smoothly, a sexy smirk on his lips. His eyes look right into mine like there is nothing else going on around us.

“Good evening, Mr. Hamilton,” I reply, trying to stay unaffected as our eyes remain glued to each other. I have no idea what is happening, but every time I see him, I feel like the world shifts on its axis. Like life is not as bad as it is. He treats me like a person, not looking at me with pity in his eyes. He is one of the only people to still call me by my actual name of Bloomer, which I appreciate. His eyes look at me like I am the rarest wonder of the world, and it has been a long time since anyone ever looked at me like that.

“You look beautiful, Lucy.” His voice is quiet, the compliment just for my ears, and even though it is noisy, I can hear him clearly over the bustling noise of the red carpet. The way his eyes run subtly down my body and back up has me feeling hot, and I already know my cheeks are flushed.

“You look very handsome as well,” I say politely, knowing many eyes are on us. We fought like kids when I saw him last week, and it was the most fun I have had in a long time. Now, though, the temperature between us has changed. The energy that now encases us is charged and full of sparks.

“Huxley, glad you made it,” Harrison says, walking up to us, pulling Huxley into an embrace where they backslap each other.

“Looking good, Gov,” Huxley says, the two of them clearly close. His hand returns to rest on my lower back the minute Harrison lets him go. It relaxes me. Makes me feel like I am not alone in the sea of eyes watching my every move and I sink into it a little. But I notice Harrison looking at the move sharply.

Lucy, how is your leg?

Tell us how you are feeling after the fire?

A journalist yells out above the noise, and my spine stiffens again. Huxley’s hand starts to rub my lower back, his touch tender as he leans to my ear.

“Come on, let’s go inside and wait for them all,” he murmurs, his warm breath skirting over my bare shoulders, making me feel hot all over.

“Thank you.” I’m thankful as he guides me along the red carpet. I give Harrison a quick look, which makes him immediately look at me with concern.

“I’m fine. Just going to wait for you inside, so you can finish your Zoolander moment without me,” I joke quietly to him and feel relieved when I see him smile a little at me, no longer concerned.

Huxley and I walk on, and the tension leaves my shoulders little by little with every step we take. Soon we are inside the foyer, the glass doors closing on the red carpet outside, the sound of yelling and cameras dulled into a muffle as we head over to stand near the wall where there are some seats to wait for the boys.

“Sit,” Huxley says.

“I’m fine,” I tell him, even though the small heels I am in tonight already pinch my toes a little. I haven't worn heels much since the accident. I shouldn’t even be wearing them now if the pain in my leg is anything to go by, but I wanted to look the part, and I don’t think sports shoes under my gown were going to help Harrison win any support or give the Rothschild Foundation a good name. I may have only just joined this family, but I am acutely aware of the importance of appearances, especially in front of the media, and I would do anything not to bring those boys down. From what I hear, our mother did a lot of that already, and I do not want to be tarred with the same brush. Something I am sure the media are all too eager to do.

“I’m not asking,” Huxley says, being his usual bossy self, gripping my hand and taking a seat, pulling me down with him. I leave my hand in his, his large palm encasing mine with ease and I like the feeling of his hold. Strong. Assured. Protective.

“Bossy much?” I mumble as I try hard not to breathe out a sigh to be off my leg.

“Always. No glasses tonight?” he asks, and I turn to look at him. Again, our eyes get hooked on each other. I never really thought about how my glasses block my view of the world. I mean, I need them to see, but right now with my contacts in, I can see him clearly. It’s like looking at a vibrant lush garden after a summer rain. There are no scratches, fingerprints, or smudges masking the way. All I see is him.

“Katie surprised me with contacts,” I tell him, wondering if it is hot in here or just me.

“Your eyes are so vibrant…” he says, his voice a mere whisper before he lowers his eyes and runs them down my body, just like outside but this time more slowly. The move by anyone else would have my hackles rising, but with Huxley, my body heats even more.

“Thank yo…” is all I get out before I hear a woman’s voice.

“Huxley Hamilton, fancy seeing you here.” I look up and watch as the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen struts toward us, looking like she is straight off a catwalk. I feel Huxley straighten, and not wanting to be rude, I push myself up to standing position, and he immediately takes my hand to help me.

“Sandra,” Huxley says, his tone now all business, our hands still joined by our sides. He is gripping me tightly, our joined hands not obvious as they fall behind our hips.

“I didn’t know you were in town… You should have called me… We could have caught up…” she purrs in a tone that leaves absolutely no room for confusion as she reaches out and slides her fingers up and down his lapel. It is clear they know each other intimately, and my stomach churns. I feel like a cold shower washes over me immediately, and I remove my hand from his. I’m not looking at him, but I can feel Huxley’s eyes burning into the side of my head. My eyes dart around the room, looking for an escape route, when I spot a waiter holding a tray of drinks over her shoulder, so I make my getaway.

“I’ll leave you two to catch up. Speak to you later, Huxley,” I say, trying to act casual, giving them both a warm smile and limping, away, not missing the pitiful look she gives me or the thunderous look in Huxley’s eyes.

He is a business coach, albeit an unwelcome one. I can’t go thinking of him in any other light. Clearly, it has been too long since I spent time with a man and I am getting confused. And after seeing him with the tall model-like woman without a hair out of place, it is obvious the type of woman that Huxley entertains. I mentally scold myself for being so stupid to think any man would find me attractive. My best years are clearly behind me in that department. The waiter greets me with a smile as he lowers the tray, and I grab a glass of champagne, wondering if I could sneak out the back and sit in the stockroom with a bottle and miss the event entirely.

I already want to go home.

CHAPTER ELEVEN - HUXLEY

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