Page 43 of Ruled By Fate

Five minutes later, he glanced at the clock. “Brianna, I’m familiar with the term ‘fashionably late,’ but do you not think…”

He stopped short.

Brie descended the stairs, long curls cascading down her shoulders and bouncing with each step. The dress Sherry had purchased for her was a fitted, knee-length, one-shouldered cocktail number that hugged her curves in exactly the right places while still maintaining elegance and class. Tiny cutouts that resemble constellations swirled up her side and across the neckline.

She was putting in an earring, an heirloom from her mother when it slipped from her fingers and dropped next to her black stiletto. “Oh, shoot…”

Cameron was there in an instant. “Please, allow me.”

He knelt at her feet and recovered the diamond, gazing down at it for a moment before offering it up. She took it hesitantly. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure.”

Their eyes lingered a moment longer before both turned at the same time. She stabbed the earring frantically as though trying to pierce it through her skin. He looked anywhere except at her dress, deeply inhaled the scent of her perfume, and narrowly avoided walking into a wall.

“We should probably—”

“Yes, we should get going.”

They headed silently towards the door, both trying to keep steady, both suddenly nervous about what lay ahead, when she suddenly gasped with delight. “My plant!”

He shifted his weight uncomfortably. “Yes, well, I was just—”

“I told you it would make a comeback.” She stroked one of its leaves, then looked smugly back at the angel. “All it needed was a smoothie. They’re very good for your electrolytes, you know.”

Without another word, she sashayed out the front door to the car. She didn’t see him whisper, “Wow,” under his breath or shake his head with a tender fondness.

She never saw it. He made sure of that.

? ? ?

The place Sherry had chosen was called Le Canard Gris, which the patrons of the small Virginian town wrote off as being something “fancy” and “French” without realizing it actually meant “The Grey Duck.”

Cameron hid a grin of recognition as they passed beneath the looping script, pushing open the door and offering his arm simultaneously. “This looks lovely.”

“It does, doesn’t it?”

Brie gave her dress an unnecessary tug, feeling a sudden flurry of nerves. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done something like this — gone out to a nice dinner with friends. It was the kind of thing she’d lost track of after Sherry moved to Virginia. The type of social touchstone that used to be so easy, that used to be so normal… but now?

I’m going to be sitting next to an angel. And I absolutely cannot tell my best friend.

She flashed a sideways glance at Cameron, only to see that he looked just as nervous as she was feeling. While handsome and composed on the outside, his fingers were drumming secretly on the side of his leg, and it looked as though he had yet to pull in a full breath.

Then there were the fish.

What the hell?

For a split second, she thought she must be imagining it. The tank itself was perfectly ordinary, the same kind of aquarium and fountain combination that many upscale establishments commissioned for the lobby to create a soothing ambiance and add to the general air of prestige. The smooth stones curved in a gentle crescent, and the sound of splashing water tinkled in the air. But the fish themselves?

If she didn’t know better, she’d swear they were…

Staring?

Her mouth fell open as her eyebrows shot skyward.

Holy hell, that’s exactly what’s happening.

Not only had every single fish turned towards the door the moment they stepped inside, but now they’d crammed themselves against the side of the tank and were gazing with riveted attention at the angel by her side. If it wasn’t so unnerving, she might have laughed.

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