Page 123 of Knot a Good Idea

More is at stake tonight.

“Any moment,” Donovan says, looking at me and nodding. “You have nothing to worry about,” he says. “You’ll do fine.”

But the knots in my stomach and the cramping in my womb say otherwise.

I don’t know how I’m going to get through this.

Hunter was right.

These people are insufferable.

If I hear one more person talk about their summer vacation house in Florence, I’m going to lose my mind.

I’m at Liam’s side, standing with another one of my lavender drinks while a middle-aged man complains to him.

“We had to go through three contractors because all of them said they couldn’t do a wrought-iron balcony on the third floor. It’s not that hard!” The man gives me a look, as if I should agree with him. I smile politely, fighting the urge to roll my eyes.

“That sounds…difficult,” Liam says, his tone even. He keeps an arm around me, and I lean into his shoulder, breathing in his rich eucalyptus scent.

Dealing with entitled people is a lot easier when I have him by my side.

“So,April,” the man, whose name I recall is Clay, says. “Where are you going to have these men build you a vacation house?”

The question catches me off guard. “Oh, I don’t think about those things.” I laugh awkwardly. “I don’t need a vacation home.”

Clay looks at Liam incredulously. “Really? You got one of the humble ones, did you? That’s nice. Mine is complaining about Paris already.”

My eyes widen and Liam grips my waist tighter. “She can have a house wherever she likes,” he says easily. “Ten of them, for all I care.”

Clay grins, showing off too-white teeth. “She’s beautiful, by the way.” He says it to Liam, not me.

“I’m aware. I’m very lucky she’s mine.”

But his scent is stronger than before, more peppery than mint.

It’s the scent of his anger.

He pulls me even closer to him, so much that I’m almost smushed against his side, but I don’t care.

Mine.

I didn’t realize Liam could be possessive, and it makes my cunt ache.

Survive the party. That’s all you need to do.

But my hands are clammy, and I shift uncomfortably in my heels.

I look around and catch Donovan sitting outside with a young man and an older couple, talking intensively at the glass table.

That must be the kid that built the app, which means Donovan is unapproachable right now.

“You look familiar.”

I turn my attention back to Clay, who’s frowning at me. “I’m sorry?”

He cocks his head. “Are you an actress? I swear I’ve seen you on television before.”

It feels like my heart stops.

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