Page 47 of Taking A Chance

Oh my god.“Shit, I didn’t even wear pantyhose,” I say. “Don’t let me drink too much. You know what, don’t let me drink at all.” I’m suddenly nervous, sure I’ll make a fool of both myself and Declan in front of important people.

“Relax,” he whispers, as the driver opens the door on his side. “You’ll be great.”

He exits, his hand reaching back for mine as I slide over and out, gaining my footing without incident. He wraps his arm around my waist and someone snaps a photo of us.

“I didn’t realize artists were such celebrities,” I tease.

“We’re not. Pretty much anyone at this event is getting their photo taken,” he says.

Where the hell are we?

I get my answer immediately upon walking into the massive event space. A sign welcoming guests lets me know we just walked into the grand opening of a new contemporary art museum, and honored guests such as the mayor and pretty much every executive from any company in the city is here tonight.No big deal.I might even run into some of my own clients at this thing.Awesome.

“I think I dressed too…too something,” I whisper.

“I think you look perfect,” he says, tightening his grip around my lower back.

We deposit my jacket at the front desk and I slip the ticket into my clutch. Declan continues to guide me through the thickening crowd toward the tables at the far end of the hall. When we make it to one markedRESERVED, I see his name and mine on cardholders at two of the spots.Wow, so he had this thing planned. My name is printed on the card and everything.

“Declan!” a slightly familiar voice says, cutting through the general noise.

We both turn to see Ryan heading straight for us. It didn’t register that he’d be here, but thinking about it now, it seems obvious he would be. On his arm is a tall blonde with zero body fat, a smirk more than a smile playing on her face.

“Ryan,” Declan says, extending his hand to his friend.

Their casual handshake is similar to what you’d see any two men do when greeting each other. It always makes me wonder why women don’t do it. Sure, sometimes we hug hello, but that’s usually rare for someone you see frequently.

“Oh, carrot cake,” Ryan says, turning his attention to me. “What a lovely surprise.”

“Hello again,” I say.

Declan’s hand flexes and settles back against my skin. “Her name is Cora,” he says.

I look up at him, sensing something in his tone. His jaw is tight as he looks sternly at his friend.

Ryan throws his hands up in the air in a show of innocence. “Of course, of course,” he says, half-laughing. “This is my date, Natasha. She’s the senator’s cousin.” He doesn’t bother mentioning which senator.

The woman extends her hand to Declan, who shakes it as professionally as he can considering she reached toward him palm down, like she expected him to kiss the top of it. When she looks in my direction, I get little more than a curt nod.

I know women like this. Privileged, self-centered, and pampered are a few words in my vocabulary for them. The others are less kind. Natasha thinks the world owes her something. Be it because of her last name, her money, or her perfect face, she’s clearly waiting for everyone to pay up.

“Honey, I’m a little parched,” I say, looking up at Declan. I’ve never called himhoneybefore. I’ve never called him any pet name. But here, in front of Natasha and Ryan, I feel the need to pee on his leg. Mark my territory. Just a little, subtly, so they can grasp the situation.

“Then let’s get you something to drink, love,” Declan says, but he doesn’t take his eyes from Ryan. “If you’ll excuse me.”

He leads me away from our table and to the bar in the corner, where the bartender hands him two flutes of champagne. He deposits one in my hand before downing half of his. My sip is more reserved, although I have half a mind to follow his lead.

“Sorry about that,” he says. “Ryan is a great agent and a good friend, but man, he likes to show his ass. He’s mostly harmless, though.”

“It’s okay.” I laugh. “I know the type better than I’d like to admit. He doesn’t bother me.” I wish I could say the same for Natasha.Bitch.

“Let’s go meet some less offensive people,” he says, tangling his fingers with mine.

We walk the floor and sip, stopping only when he wants to introduce me to someone. I meet the owner, some board members, and one of the curators for the gallery before spotting someone I know.

Dr. Richards, both former client and one of the many bad dates I went on, steps toward us. I can’t say too many bad things about him. After he learned of my work on our date, he hired my company for some marketing. To be fair, the date wasn’t terrible. We’re just extremely different people. Luckily, he didn’t hold it against me when he chose to hire me.

“Cora? Is that you?” Dr. Richards’ eyes light up, as they sweep up and down my body. Declan’s head jerks in my direction, presumably surprised someone here knows me.

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