Page 110 of Fair Catch

Of course, now that I’m outside their home wearing a freaking suit and bow tie, I’m starting to rethink my decision.

The anxiety coursing through me is higher now than it was the first time I came here. Maybe because this go ‘round, I know what waits behind those doors, and it’s far more terrifying than not knowing.

A valet opens the passenger door for me, and I’m struck with another wave of nerves as I climb from the car. Hayes does the same, handing off his keys to the attendant before joining me on the passenger side.

I straighten my suit jacket, running my hand over the fabric to ensure no wrinkles or pleats or whatever the fuck else is out of place. God knows I already feel that way enough, I don’t need to look the part too. Yet, despite donning the nicest suit I own and making myself as presentable as humanly possible, I still feel inferior beside Hayes, and I know with absolute certainty the feeling will only be worse once we set foot inside the lion’s den.

Because tonight, it won’t just be the Lancasters present. All their friends and colleagues will be there too, including Quinton’s parents, if I had to guess. The who’s who of Chicago’s upper class and high society, all boozing and schmoozing their evening away.

And then there’s me.

A counterfeit. A misguided dreamer.

An unwelcome outsider.

Hayes must feel the emotions rippling off me like a cologne, because he reaches over and takes my hand, squeezing it in his. The smallest touch gives me enough reassurance to know, no matter what waits on the other side of those doors, at least I have him by my side.

And that’s enough.

“Are you ready?”

The honest answer is no, but I plaster on a smile anyway and give him a watered down version of the truth. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Hayes leads me through the front door of his parents’ estate, and unlike Thanksgiving’s quiet gathering, the entire place is bustling with people, chatter, music, and dancing, everyone dressed to the nines in tuxes and floor-length gowns.

“Holy shit,” I mutter, more to myself than anything.

As we travel further inside, my gaze travels around the sunken living room that has been completely transformed—all the furniture removed, leaving the marble floor bare. Cocktail tables with elegant floral arrangements are scattered around the outskirts, creating a circular opening for people to gather and talk or dance in the center.

And it’s almost as if…

“Your living room doubles as aballroom?”

A low chuckle comes from Hayes. “Only sometimes.”

Lord have fucking mercy.

I blink a couple times, still stunned by the severe contrast to the home I’d previously seen, before looking at Hayes again. He’s watching me with laser-like focus, arching a brow when our eyes find each other.

“Good?”

“Yep,” I say, though I’m pretty sure my voice went up an octave halfway through the word. Clearing my throat, I add, “Your parents really know how to throw a party.”

“It’s obscene,” he mutters, shaking his head. His analytical blue gaze travels around the opulently decorated room before returning to me. “Their anniversary is just another stupid excuse for them to flex their pocketbooks to anyone who comes.”

“I think they succeeded.”

He laughs and leads me down the steps toward the pop-up bar at the other side, his hand at the small of my back, guiding me the whole way. And while I know it’s only in my head, I feel like everyone in the room is staring at us.

Atme.

The one thing here that isn’t like the others.

“Stop fidgeting. You look perfect,” Hayes murmurs from behind me, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “And your ass looks good enough to eat.”

I can feel the heat creeping up my neck until it reaches my cheeks, tinting the skin a deep shade of pink. “Of all the moments you could choose to whisper filthy things in my ear, you had to do it when your parents are in the same room?”

Granted, I don’t knowwherein this room, but I know they’re here somewhere.

---