Page 118 of One Big Little Secret

Patton drags me away for introductions with several other people, mostly the important power couples. They’re a minority in the sea of older men.

Most of the guys come alone, and even the ones who wear wedding bands try to flirt like they don’t.

I try to take it in stride, smiling and talking about The Cardinal. I laugh along with their lame jokes. Sometimes, Patton intervenes to help us escape—usually when the men start watching me like I’m tonight’s dinner.

“That’s enough, Grayson. I won’t have you stealing her from under me,” he says to a man in his mid-thirties who looks chiseled enough to cut rock.

Grayson looks at me with a grey-eyed sparkle that could be his namesake. “Isn’t that for the lady to decide?”

“She has terrible taste. That’s why she’s with me,” Patton jokes, and I laugh. There’s an expression in his eyes I can’t decipher, and it makes my stomach clench.

Smile. Play it cool.

It’s all just a stage.

This is where I should grin and flirt back—either with Patton or Grayson or both—but I’ve never been great at flirting. Thathasn’t changed since I was twenty-one and clueless about how complicated life can get after one drunken night.

Patton offers me his arm.

“We should get going,” he says to Grayson, who tips his drink to me.

It’s a buffet brunch with a massive spread. Everything from eggs Benedict with Swiss chard and green olives to banana bread waffles and fresh fruit flown in from California. Patton guides me through the chattering crowd and over to the food with surprising grace and poise.

“You’re killing it. Keep it up,” he says under his breath.

“Is everyone always so flirty?” My face screws up. “I thought that last guy was going to make a play for me right in front of you.”

“When they see a beautiful woman, it’s not unheard of. People with nine figures aren’t used to taking ‘no’ for an answer.”

My stomach leaps at the reminder of how just big the money here gets.

I almost miss his next introduction as a broad man steps in front of us. He’s an elderly guy with a thick Texas accent and old-fashioned Southern charm. He’s actually decent, though, grandfatherly in a way, and he makes me feel at ease for the first time all morning.

“You be careful lettin’ this pretty one wander too far, Mr. Rory,” he growls. “I hear she’s saving your ass with that fancy hotel that ain’t a hotel, huh?”

“Yeah. Beauty and brains. I’m the luckiest asshole here today and I know it,” Patton tells him.

My heart somersaults as they laugh.

Pray for me.

Patton thinks I’m beautiful.

Or maybe he doesn’t and he just said it for the ruse.

But I guess it worked either way. When we leave the breakfast room for a few light presentations, I feel better.

It’s a half day of pep talks about earnings and rave successes with every speaker trying to one-up each other. By the time we’re leaving just ahead of the small crowd, I’m less on edge.

“I didn’t realize you brought me here so you could show me off like a new piece of jewelry,” I tell him as we head back to our suite to change. “To be fair, I’ve never felt so shiny in my life.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Lady Bug. The women like you too, and you can trust their motives. You’re not such a black cat after all and it’s time you started believing me.”

I want to argue back, but for once, he’s not wrong.

Today, Ifeellucky.

“Well, what now? I’m surprised they cut the first day short.”

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