Page 123 of Rosabel and the Billionaire Beast

The pit of my stomach burned like someone slid a hot ember in there.

“I may have tried, but if those threats are any indication, I didn’t do a very good job. Even Eudora sensed my feelings after seeing us together for all of ten minutes.”

Was that what they’d talked about while he’d all but pushed me away during our visit?

“Then keep your distance from me,” I teased. “No stolen glances. No little smirks like you do. And definitely no whispering in my ear.”

“Yeah?”

“You have no idea what it does to me.”

He chuckled and then after several moments, he exhaled. “You’re probably right. It’ll be fine.”

The truth was, I wasn’t all that jazzed about this party, either, not after what his mom had said. But we’d made a deal. He couldn’t walk away.

If things were bad between him and his family now? They’d be ten times worse if he didn’t show.

Chances were, we werebothbeing paranoid.

“Remember our plan?” I said. “We party like it’s 1999, then fly home. It’ll be fine.”

He rested his hand on top of the hat box. “Our plan. Right.”

I tilted in and pressed a kiss to his cheek—and then stopped myself centimeters away from his freshly shaven jaw. “Ooo, wait. Better not.”

He released a little moan. “You’re right. You can talk me into anything when you do that.”

Shaking away my smile, I reached for the door. My little black dress was slimming and flowed like the fabric was meant for me. Placing my red heel on the ground, I slid out of the car and faced our destination.

The Crystal Bridges Museum was a castle of concrete. A cement crown marked the entrance along a circular swooping drive where a single school bus dropped its young passengers off. Bikers decked out in their spandex gear, with their helmets in place, lined up to experience the world-class trails I’d heard were nearby.

“Do you think we’ll get to see any of the artwork?” I asked, scoping out the clouds that had slid over the previously clear morning. Shades of blue had been dimmed by bleakest gray.

Not the perfect kind of weather for a party. It was a good thing it was indoors.

“I’m not sure,” he said, adjusting his suit coat and the hat box. “The event center is part of the museum itself, so maybe.”

I’d read about the art collection at Crystal Bridges. The compilation varied from portraiture of early American heroes to pioneer landscapes to more modern displays of paintings and sculpture. There was even a Frank Lloyd Wright house that had been taken apart and rebuilt bit by bit here on display.

I wasn’t sure how long this party would last, but I hoped Duncan and I could sneak away to explore.

We entered, showed our tickets, and then took a walk beside a long, cylindrical glass panel looking out onto some manmade landscaping. A plunging view of draping vines snaked along the cement outside, along with footpaths, artistic structures, and more of the trees the Ozarks were famous for.

Unease became a third party between us. My heels clacking on the floor were the only sound.

His worries added apprehension in my bloodstream too. Before, when he’d gotten quiet like this, he would snap at a partner or employee for failing his or her part in something. There was something more to it this time, though. Duncan wasworried.

Was it only regarding his family—or something else?

Duncan tucked the hat box beneath his arm and gazed at me.

“Do words count?” he muttered.

“Hm?”

“I’m trying not to look at you like you’re my world,” he said. “But I could tell you. You said you liked compliments.”

“Might not be the best idea,” I said.

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