Page 94 of Mine

I smooth my clammy palms over the ocean of black dress that surrounds me.

Sensing my nerves, Astor slips his hand over mine. “Just be yourself.”

I snort.

He squeezes my hand. “I can promise you three things tonight. One, you will be the most beautiful woman in the room. Two, every single person here is too caught up on what everyone else is thinking of them to judge you—trust me on this. And three, we will leave the moment you feel too uncomfortable, and we’ll go find the biggest bag of potato chips you’ve ever seen in your life.”

“Can we just skip to number three?”

Gently, he takes my chin. Astor is always impossibly gorgeous, but in a tuxedo? He’s almost intimidating.

“I’ll lead wherever you need me to,” he says in that cool, confident tone that makes me melt. “I’ll handle the small talk, the introductions, get you whatever you need. All you have to do is ask. Allow me to be in control, and I promise you’ll feel comfortable. All I need you to do is stay by my side. I am your safe place, and you are mine. Do not leave me. Do you understand me?”

“Yes.”

“Sabine ...” The grip on my chin tightens. “Hear me—do not leave my side. I want you next to me all night.”

“Yes, yes.” I respond impatiently, only half paying attention as I survey the crowd. “I hear you. Do not leave; got it.”

“Good. Now kiss me.”

“You’ll smear my lipstick.”

“I’d like to smear it somewhere else.”

“Stop.”

He grins and pulls me in for a long, passionate kiss. I’m faintly aware of a car honking behind us.

“Astor,” I mutter around his kisses. “I think they’re wanting us to move.”

“Screw ’em.” Eventually, he pulls back and rubs his thumb over my top lip. “Don’t leave me, okay?”

The vulnerability in his face tugs at my heartstrings. For all the brooding and controlling nature that warps this man, inside is a fragile human needing what we all do—love, trust, loyalty, and commitment, and really, really great sex.

“I promise,” I whisper.

After a quick reapplication of lipstick, I take the white-gloved hand that appears when the door opens. Astor slides out behind me, and noise erupts. My senses shift into overdrive, assaulted by a sudden onslaught of flashing lights, shouts, and screams from women, all gawking at Astor.

He slides his hand into mine. I squeeze back, and in front of everyone, he leans into my ear. “Want me to lay you down right here and show these people how many fingers I can stick in your?—”

I burst into laughter. Astor winks, grinning from ear to ear, and taps a kiss on my knuckle.

And just like that, the nerves dissipate, and I remind myself that I am worthy enough to be here.

• • •

The inside of the gala is like stepping into a dream—if I’d taken a hit of acid beforehand.

Everything is gold. Gold chandeliers, gold drapery, gold candles, gold-rimmed champagne glasses and plates. Even the flatware is gold. Massive displays of gold-dipped red roses perfume the ballroom. Sexy jazz music thrums from a twelve-piece orchestra in the corner, next to an elegant mirrored bar. Men in tuxedos move from circle to circle, posturing with their luxury labels and Barbie-sized wives.

The introverted part of me wants to perch on a barstool and people-watch for the entire event. Unfortunately, Astor has other plans. He is approached immediately, one tuxedo after another wanting to speak to the reclusive billionaire.

Watching Astor navigate small talk is both inspiring and enlightening. His public persona is very different from the man I see behind closed doors. This Astor is one of composed elegance. He offers just enough to make someone want more, then gracefully excuses himself, addressing the next person in line.

We fall into an easy rhythm. Astor introduces me, I smile, engage in a bit of witty banter, and then let him take over while I go back to my people-watching. He’s never once released my hand, and he’s right, I feel wholly comfortable because he is in control.

As I look around the ballroom, it’s mind-boggling to think how far we’ve come, and how much my life has changed since Hurricane Stone blew into my life. I could lose myself in this, I think. Become addicted to the sex, the money, the power, the jealous looks from all the women. Little do they know the darkness that lurks under all the glitter.

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