Page 85 of Stitched Up in You
I may have sworn off men ages ago, but maybe there’s hope for me with this monster.
“You never fail to surprise me,” he mutters softly, pressing a kiss to my head.
“I know, I’m just full of surprises,” I reply, hoping with everything I’ve got this isn’t all somehow make-believe.
Chapter 33
FRANK N. STEIN
“This is so exciting,” Bernadette says.
Her entire body is practically bursting with excitement as we make our way to the gala, meanwhile I’m likening it to a trip to the gallows, if it were possible for me to perish.
The limousine pulls to a stop, and I want to growl at how before we even get out of the car, I can see the flashes blinding and glinting outside the dark-tinted windows. I turn to her and take in her pretty red dress, the soft straps that accentuate her breasts, the fabric nipping in at her waist. Her eyes glow a brighter green somehow without her blue glasses framing them. She looks beautiful, and it makes me glower that much fiercer.
My hands curl into fists. I don’t want her here, and it takes everything in me to not turn her around and force her back into the mansion where I can keep her safe. My stomach rolls with tension and the reminder of how much my life has now changed, at how much she’s changedmein such a short time.
“It’s going to be fine,” she says, her tone soothing as she takes my hand in hers.
I frown as she smiles at me and stretches out my fist to fit her hand to mine before lacing our fingers together.
“You’re not to leave my side until we’re inside the building,” I remind her.
“I know what I’m supposed to do. Do you think you could maybe stop your face from doing whatever that is before we get out of the car?” she asks, waving a hand over me, and I scowl harder.
I sigh, opening the car door and stepping out onto the red carpet and immediately regret the action as the shouts pick up and the cameras explode.
“Ha ha ha,” she laughs, a smile spreading across her brilliantly red lips as I hold out a hand to help her from the vehicle.
One sharp red heel steps out, and then the other, and the faint hint of a smile does pull at my mouth. I did manage to get her in a pair of heels after all, and she looks good in them.
If the cameras were a lot before, they’re practically blinding now as she panders to them. She’s magnificent, and it's clear in her bearing she knows exactly what she’s doing and where to turn for the most effect, as if born to it.
“Just smile and wave, boys. Smile and wave,” she mutters under her breath before a full grin crests over her lips.
She smiles and waves, and of course the cameras adore her as cries go out asking when the wedding is, and to look here and there. I hate these things.
“Alright everyone. It’s almost showtime,” Mikael says, his voice coming through the earpiece in my ear, drowning out the sounds of paparazzi calling Bernadette’s name.
It’ll be a miracle if I get out of here tonight without murdering anyone.
BERNADETTE CRENSHAW
“If you don’t smile, I’m keeping all of my surprise mouth hugs to myself from now on,” I hiss through the tight grin pasted on my face.Not even an hour after leaving the limo, and I already want to kill him.
We stand in a corner of the Pierre; the ballroom packed with the upper echelons of New York high society as Frank broods, not allowing anyone to get close. The room is covered in different shades of silk hanging to look like waves across the ceiling and along the walls. Ornate pillars and columns are dotted around the room, the caterers dressed in thematic, plain white togas, and the many tables shimmer with crystal decanters and red wine.
Set up to be a Roman-themed gala, it's every bit as beautiful tonight as I knew it would be.
“That male is known for being handsy,” Frank says, gesturing toward one of the old guys standing in a circle near the edge of the room we just left.
Frank yanked me away just as the guy asked me when the wedding was, not giving me a chance to even say sorry. I get the funny feeling that if anyone did try to touch me right now, Frank would go ballistic, which is as hot as it is problematic.
“I’m not telling these people anything,” he bites out.
I glance up at the flat line of his lips, and my gaze rolls to the heavens at how hard he’s scowling.
“They want to know when the wedding is because that’s why we’re here. It’s supposed to be an engagement party, remember?”
