Page 73 of His Ruthless Match
“Relax, Delgado,” he murmured, his lips so close to my ear that the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. “You look like you’re about to argue a case.”
I shot him a glare. “And you look like you’re about to start a fight.”
“Who says I won’t?”
Typical. I shook my head, gripping my clutch a little tighter. The hum of conversation mixed with bursts of laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the soft strains of a jazz band tucked into the corner. Waiters floated past with trays of champagne.
I adjusted the slit in my dress as we walked. The dress was bold—perhaps too bold—but I wasn’t here to hide. My stomach churned with nerves, but I did my best to project confidence.
Jareth scanned the room like he was on a mission. He drew attention effortlessly, his relaxed arrogance contrasting sharply with the polished, uptight energy of the other guests. He grabbed us some champagne from a passing tray, and I welcomed the distraction of the chilled glass. The bubbles tickled my throat when I took a sip, and I let the familiar routine of networking guide me through the crowd. Congratulations came from all sides—polite smiles, firm handshakes, compliments that were nothing more than veiled jealousy.
Jareth took in every detail, every whispered word. He was doing his job, but there was something different in the way hecarried himself tonight—an edge of tension, like he wasn’t sure if he was protecting me or keeping himself in check.
The MC’s voice cut through the low hum of conversation, calling everyone to attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you would please take your seats, we’ll begin the award ceremony shortly.”
Jareth and I made our way to our table, and I smoothed my dress as I sat down, trying to ignore the quickened pace of my heart. When they began reading off the names, my nerves spiked. Every announcement, every round of applause, was building to something I wasn’t ready for.
Finally, the MC called my name.
I stood, taking purposeful steps toward the stage. The room felt like it was holding its breath, but I focused on the MC’s words, nodding politely as he listed off my achievements. Legal victories. Advocacy work. Being a trailblazer. Each accolade reminded me of the pressure I’d been under for so long.
I accepted the crystal award and stepped up to the podium. My thank-yous were brief—polished but genuine. I spoke about resilience and gratitude, about hard work paying off, and about the people who had supported me along the way. I even managed a small, self-deprecating joke that earned me a smattering of polite laughter from the crowd.
As I stepped back, ready to retreat to my seat, Jareth’s voice cut through the decorum.
“Hell yeah, Eva,” he shouted, his clapping louder than anyone else’s. “That’s my girl!”
The room erupted into laughter and scattered applause, and my face burned. I shot him a look that promised vengeance, but he just grinned, looking completely unrepentant. His smug expression was infuriating, but a tiny, traitorous part of me was... amused. Maybe even flattered. Not that I’d admit it.
The rest of the ceremony passed in a blur. My thoughts were a chaotic mess, split between the weight of the award in my hands and the sharp, lingering heat of Jareth’s outburst.
Later, when the formalities gave way to mingling and the band switched to a slower, sultry tune, Jareth popped up at my side again.
“Come on,” he said, holding out a hand. “You owe me a dance.”
I blinked up at him. “I don’t owe you anything.”
“You do. Besides, you won an award. You can spare five minutes to celebrate.”
The determination in his eyes made it clear he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Sighing, I placed my hand in his and let him lead me to the dance floor.
He put his hand on my waist, and the heat of him seemed to burn into my skin. I hated how aware I was of every inch of him. His steps were a little stiff, and the way he held me made it hard to focus.
“You’re terrible at this,” I muttered.
“I don’t need to be good at dancing,” he replied, his voice tinged with humor. “I just need to keep you here.”
I laughed softly despite myself. “You clean up well,” I admitted grudgingly.
“Careful,” he murmured, his gaze locking onto mine. “I might think you’re starting to like me.”
The teasing was back, but there was something in his eyes that took my breath away. The music swirled around us, but all I could hear was the rush of my pulse.
“Eva.” His voice took on a tone I wasn’t used to. Serious. Almost... vulnerable.
I gazed into his eyes, my heart hammering. The world around us faded even as the space between us became electric. Histhumb brushed against my lower back, and I thought, for just a second, that he might kiss me.
But the moment vanished as quickly as it came. The music shifted into a more livelier tune, and I stepped back from him.
