Page 43 of A Kiss at Midnight

Will I pass inspection when Blake picks me up? The mirror gives me no answers. The dress that was tailored specifically for me is exquisite, fitting me like a glove, and in every respect, far more beautiful than anything I’ve ever worn before. I like it, and I need to thank him. I hope no one will look at me and know exactly what I am, and how much I don’t belong rubbing elbows with the rich and famous. The waiting makes things worse.

I spend a lot of time without Blake. He has an incredible work ethic. The man is constantly answering phones, or staying at the office late. I have to admire what he and his brothers have built. It’s not only about making money either. He cares about his clients. I’ve watched him sweating on top of a friend’s roof, his button-down shirt thrown off, his expensive slacks ruined. The man looks like he was born to wield a hammer.

I’m now aware that all of the Astor brothers started out on job sites before they created their own company, a business so successful that none of them will ever feel the need to do manual labor again. It shows their character that they can roll up their sleeves and help a friend, and I don’t want to be impressed, but I am.

How many other billionaires are willing to climb up on a roof for a man they love and respect? I’d say not many. It doesn’t make Blake a good guy, it just makes him less of an... ass.

It’s best that my time with Blake is temporary. If I stay with Blake too long, I’ll be helpless to resist his attention. These glimpses of vulnerability in him try to break through to my heart, and the sex — oh my, the sex... it’s incredible.

It’s funny how things turn out. Well... maybe not exactlyfunny. Blake isn’t a man a woman stays with. I could have a touch of Stockholm syndrome. Since I’m currently tied to Blake, I need to be with him. Yet how can I feel this way when he can be so awful? My mother didn’t raise a masochist.

I remember falling in love for the first time when I was fifteen. What a disaster — I saw the boy kissing my mortal enemy behind the bleachers, and came home in tears. My mother consoled me, told me that it sometimes takes a while to findthe one, but that someday I’d find him. The man I marry has to be my best friend, my lover, and the person I trust above all others.Never settle, my mom said.Ask for the moon and don’t take less than the stars.

I’ve never found a man who fits that description.

Instead, I found Blake Astor, who most certainly has none of these traits. And especially not the man I’ll marry — if I ever marry at all. Yes, he’s a virtuoso lover — perhaps I should use the adjectivemasterful— but he’ll never offer me the moon or stars. That isn’t who he is. Besides, I have my brother to think about, and it’s okay to consider my needs.

I sit in my sparsely furnished living room. Am I supposed to wait for him or meet in the lobby? Grabbing my phone, I see several messages and grimace.

My driver will pick you up.

Where are you?

Max is waiting in the lobby.

Jewel!

I smile at this last message, practically hearing the growl in his voice. The last message came in ten minutes ago. I’m surprised he didn’t add a dozen more exclamation marks to it. His driver is early, so it isn’t my fault if he’s been kept waiting.

On my way down now. Was getting ready.

After hitting send, I tuck the phone into my purse and do a final check in the entryway mirror before I walk out the door.

“Good evening, Ms. Weston,” Max says.

“Good evening, Max. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”

“It’s no problem waiting for a woman,” he says. He opens the car door for me and I climb in and get comfortable.

When Max pulls into traffic, I force myself to clear my mind of all doubt. Yes, I’m rubbing my skin raw as I twist my fingers together but realize I’m being stupid. I have to go to this fundraiser, so what good is worrying? None. In fact, it’s aparty, and I might as well try to enjoy it.

We arrive sooner than expected, and I shudder as Max helps me out of the car. And then it worsens when I step up to the door. I look around, but there’s no sign of Blake, which means I’m faced with walking in alone. Will they let me enter? I have nothing to prove I’m supposed to be here. What will I do if they send me away? Sighing, I force myself forward. I approach two men in tuxes guarding the entrance of this fancy hotel.

“Invitation?” one asks.

“I... uh... I don’t have one. I’m here with someone,” I say, and the answering look in his eyes clearly says he doesn’t believe me.

Before I can speak again, Max steps up next to me. “She’s with Blake Astor.”

The man’s attitude instantly changes, and he holds the door open. “I apologize, Ms. Weston. He’s waiting for you inside.” Wow! I can’t imagine what it would be like to possess that much power with nothing but a name.

After stepping through the front doors and being escorted to the fundraiser room, I’m taken aback by the luxury. Sparkling light fixtures hang throughout the room, and the round tables are perfectly set with the finest china, crystal, and what I’m sure is sterling silver.

Waiters silently move through the room, making sure everyone has a fresh drink, not an easy task — the crowd is much larger than I expected. How am I ever going to find Blake in this throng of people?

When a woman’s tinkling laughter drifts toward me, I turn to the sound, and my stomach takes a dip. Finding Blake isn’t so difficult after all. I just wasn’t expecting to find him with a woman clinging to his side. It doesn’t matter, of course. But why in the world did he ask me to get dressed up for this glittering event just to leave me standing alone, looking like a fool?

As if he senses my presence, he turns in my direction, and our eyes collide from across the room. I must be frowning, because the smile on his lips vanishes and his eyebrows quizzically rise, then he holds out his hand and gestures for me to join him... and the beautiful woman.

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