Page 116 of Forgot to Tell You Something

Damn. She reallydoeslike Dan.

“Huh, he didn’t mention that to me.” I give her arm a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll talk to Dan. But for now, let’s see what bag I can carry to hold over my stomach the entire evening.”

* * *

Stop fiddling.That’s the mantra repeating in my head since I entered the hotel ballroom. There’s a sea of tuxedos and evening gowns, all wrapped around people who spend more on pedicures than I earn in a year. Completing their looks are coiffed hair, designer jewels, and shoes that definitely didn’t come from the discount rack.

Oh yeah, I blend.

Stefani swears that my tiny bump isn’t obvious. I can play it off as a food baby. A good idea if I’d been able to eat anything all day. I’m starving and nauseous—a winning combination.

I have to hand it to Charlotte; the woman knows how to hostess a party. Granted, if I had a bottomless bank account, I’d be able to pull off one hell of a shindig, too. I stop to grab my seat assignment. I bet money on the fact that Charlotte sat me on the opposite end of the room from Owen—another power play attempt to rein him back into her clutches.

I guess right.

“Hey Lu, how are you?” Thank God, Dr. Jessop is at my table. At least I won’t have to force a polite conversation with him. He’s not only a top-notch cardiologist, but he’s also a blast to hang out with, and these events are a breeding ground for his dirty jokes. “You look wonderful.”

“Thank you,” I murmur, sliding into my seat. “My style doesn’t tend toward tuxedos.”

“Mine either. I hate this penguin shit, but the top-shelf alcohol is flowing. In fact, I’m going to fetch another glass. What can I get you?”

“Just water, thanks.”

“Water? Dear girl, you don’t come to abysmal soirees to drink water. You drink vodka and insult the guests behind your hand.”

“I can still partake in the insults. But I’ve had a headache all day, don’t want the alcohol to worsen it.”

“That’s right. You took a wallop yesterday.” He examines my cheek, offering a grin. “Can hardly tell.”

What a liar. There is no foundation thick enough to cover a bruise, at least none in my price range. At least my eye isn’t swollen shut. Yay for silver linings. As Dr. Jessop saunters to the bar, I glance around the ballroom, taking in all the frocked finery and tinkling laughter.

My stomach flips when my gaze lands on Owen, Charlotte by his side. I take back what I said about them not fitting together—they look fantastic. Talk about a case study in beauty.

Owen fills out a tux like nobody’s business—his shirt stretched across his defined pecs, the tuxedo jacket showcasing his broad shoulders and back. He’s smiling, but I see from here that it’s forced. He’s playing the role of show pony, as required.

By his side, looking like a Gatsby-esque goddess, is Charlotte. The woman’s exotic beauty is exquisite—her caramel skin looks as if she brushed it with gold. Hell, knowing her, she likely did. Her dark hair is pulled into a French twist, her body flawless in a strapless cream-colored gown.

I don’t belong here.It’s not the first time in my life I’ve felt this way, but it’s the first time I’ve felt it regarding Owen. This is his life, surrounded by riches and royalty without the titles. People with villas and private jets and island retreats.

My gaze drops to my lap as I wipe my palms along my legs. Sure, my dress is nice, but it came off a clearance rack. My shoes aren’t designer, and I purchase my makeup in a drugstore. Then, there are the tattoos decorating my arms and legs—ink that I’m ordinarily proud of, but is now making me self-conscious.

I wish I’d worn pants. And long sleeves. Thankfully, I’m tucked into a far corner. Let’s face it, we may be the medical team for Memorial, but we are secondary players. Tonight isn’t about us; it’s an elaborate show for the whales.

And Owen’s chance to shine like the star he is.

Charlotte takes the microphone as the music fades out. It’s showtime, folks.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I’m thrilled to see so many representing not only South Florida but the cardiac community. I played a small part in the initial roll-out of the robotics cath lab, but it was my father who deserves the real credit. He funded a genius interventionist, whose ideas can change the face of cardiology. Let’s give a warm welcome to the man of the hour, Dr. Owen Stevens.”

There is no shortage of accolades as applause breaks out around the room. Owen deserves every second, even if he looks uncomfortable with the attention.

“We have ourselves a celebrity, don’t we?” Dr. Jessop states with a smile, downing the rest of his scotch. “I’d hate him, but he’s an awfully agreeable human being.”

“That he is,” I concur, sending Owen a smile I know he can’t see across the ballroom. “We’re very lucky to have him at Memorial.”

“I’ve heard a rumor that Charlotte is more than a business associate. You always have the lowdown, Lu. Any truth to that nonsense?”

Flip. There goes my stomach again. “She was his fiancée.”

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