Page 89 of Dirty Damage

I catch her around the waist, my thumb brushing over warm, bare skin. “But they’re worth it.”

“Says the man who isn’t going to face-plant in front of the elites.”

Smirking, I take her hand. “Hold onto me; I won’t let you fall. Now, come on, we’re late.”

Her hand stays in mine all the way through the building and out the front doors, where she gasps at the stretch limo waiting along the curb.

“We’re takingthat?”

“I knew I’d need a driver. I won’t be able to focus with you in that dress.”

Her blush spreads down her neck. “Right. But a limo? It’s a bit… much.”

“And you’ve just described my mother in four words.” I hold open the back door, ushering her into the backseat.

She slides into the limo’s plush interior, immediately fidgeting with the diamonds dripping from her wrist. The nervous gesture draws my attention to her hands—delicate, with short, practical nails.

Not the garish, manicured talons I’m used to seeing on the women in my world.

“What’s your mother really like? I need to know more about her.”

Sutton’s question is like a bucket of ice water on my thoughts. I drag my attention from where it’s focused on her dress riding up her thighs.

“The technical term would be ‘ball-buster.’”

“Oh, God.”

I wave her worry away. “I’ll be right beside you the whole time. My mother’s intimidating, but she respects authenticity. You’re nothing if not authentic.”

“So don’t try to suck up to her?” she guesses.

“Fast learner.”

She dusts an imagined piece of lint from her dress. “Who else is going to be at this thing?”

“About a hundred of Palm Beach’s finest, hand-picked by my mother.”

She jolts forward like she’s going to swallow her tongue. “I’m sorry—what? A hundred? Like…one hundred? Why didn’t you warn me?”

“What good would it have done?”

As far as parties go, this one is smaller than most. If my future bride had been one my mother selected, it would’ve been five hundred guests, at least.

As it is, she wants to keep things “intimate.”

“It would’ve given me time to prepare!” Her blue eyes flare with panic, her chest heaving against the delicate material of her dress in a way that is very distracting.

I pull my eyes up to her pale face. “The less time you have to overthink these things, the better.”

She slumps against the leather seat. “Not helping.”

I press the button for the privacy partition, catching Uri’s curious glance in the rearview mirror before the black screen hides him from view.

“Usually, I’d be worried you’re about to murder me, but I actually think you’d be doing me a favor now.” She gives a shaky laugh.

“It won’t be that bad.” My eyes drift to the tempting curve of exposed skin. “The champagne alone is worth it.”

“I’d rather be in sweats hiding under my covers.”

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