Page 131 of Stand: Part One
And here I was stressing about potentially tripping in these ridiculous heels on the shimmering floor-length emerald-green chiffon that wrapped high around my throat, conveniently concealing the fading bruises.
The sheer glittery sleeves stretched down to my wrists, intricate dark green lace beading cleverly placed to hide my brands of ownership. The sweetheart cutout teased a tasteful amount of cleavage while the bustier cinched too tightly at my waist.
Or maybe it was just my own panic that was making it difficult to breathe.
“Jaden.”
“Huh?” I nearly snapped, my stupid dangle emerald earrings swinging against my jawline.
“You need to relax. It’s a charity gala. Not a firing squad.”
I exhaled harshly. “Give it time,” I murmured back.
No one said it couldn’t morph into one.
Darren paused for a moment, cocking his head to the side and turned to me.
“I’m sorry, but didn’t you just not so long ago take on an entire security team of at least ten men and blow up their entire storage facility?”
My blood rushed at the memory. God, that felt like forever ago now.
“Yeah, I did that,” I replied with a reassuring nod.
He gave me a knowing smile. “Then I think you can handle this.”
“I just feel ridiculous.”
Darren gazed down at me from the corner of his eye, the snideness of his grin twisting into something warm and almost pleasant.
“But you look so damn beautiful.”
And then the elevator doors opened and the chaos commenced.
Swarms of people were everywhere. Colorful gowns flowed in all directions, men in expensive suits and tuxes, noise and chatter mixed with glasses clinking.
I had so much to pay attention to that my situational awareness went into overdrive to assess for threats and potential exits. But then a large, warm hand grasped my own, and suddenly, I remembered to breathe.
The first exhale was all the relief Darren waited for before tugging me along to the bar and ordering me a glass of champagne and a bourbon for himself.
A shot of tequila would have been more appreciated, but I accepted the glass with a long, discreet sip. My eyes glazed over the crowd, finding Scott, Clive, and Owen drifting along the outskirts, popping in and out of my peripherals but never far.
“Better?” Darren asked as he leaned casually against the bar and brought his glass to his lips.
“Yes, thank you,” I answered after my third sip, but my voice was not convincing.
Darren chuckled. “What could you possibly be afraid of here?”
My eyes bounced up to his.
You… Always you.
I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know, and I think that’s the problem. I feel unprepared.”
“Unprepared to do what? Behave and look pretty? So far, you’ve done a phenomenal job of at least one of them,” he said, and his eyes darkened. “I don’t expect you to require additional motivation to achieve the other.”
I scowled at his unnecessary threat, then immediately trained myself to soften my expression, not wanting to attract attention. I didn’t want to think of the things he would provide to motivate my behavior, especially knowing how much he would enjoy it.
I decided to swallow my anxiety down with the rest of my champagne, hoping it would make things marginally better.
