Page 3 of Claiming Liberty

“Of course not. Like I said, I just needed some fresh air. It’s stuffy in there.”

His lips lift ever so slightly.

Dick.

He slowly nods. “I can agree.”

His eyes lower while he unabashedly takes me in. Him lion, me gazelle.

My eyes narrow to slits, and as much as I try to fight the impulse, I tug my dress up to hide my cleavage.

“Right,” I mutter.

As if this guy thinks this place is stuffy. He’s probably right at home. I mean, come on. He’s in a black suit that’s fitted so well, it looks like a second skin, with a red tie the color of fresh blood. His hair looks like he paid someone a thousand dollars to comb each individual strand in place with just the right amount of gel in case any follicle dares defy him.

This guy belongs here. The only thing that makes him stand out from the others is the fact that he’s hot as hell.

Not that it matters.

“You’re not used to these events, are you?” Again, his eyes lower, moving until he’s taken in every square inch of me.

Goosebumps break out on my arms, and my nipples harden. I keep standing tall, letting my irritation at the obvious perusal of my body show, but underneath I’m praying my face isn't reddening.

Finally, he meets my eyes, and I inject as much contempt as I can into my glare.

Fuck rich people thinking they can do whatever they want.

Fuckmefor liking it.

He frowns. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to offend you. I only ask because your dress is a little crooked. You look uncomfortable.”

My chin lowers to my chest as I look down.

If my face wasn’t red before, it is now.

He wasn’t even checking me out. He was studying me like everyone else here has.

I really do have a sign that reads ‘doesn’t belong’ dangling from my neck, don’t I?

“Oh.” I straighten my dress and laugh, dying inside as I run my hands over my face.

I am such a fucking idiot.

My shoulders sag as I drop my hands to my sides. This stranger has me figured out. No doubt about it.

At least he has the courtesy to point out my discomfort instead of silently judging me only to snicker behind my back as soon as I walk away.

At least he’s honest.

“This isn’t exactly my crowd.”

“No?” he asks as if he doesn’t already know the answer.

I shake my head.

The unlit cigarette between his fingers catches my attention. I don’t normally smoke, but fuck, I could use some nicotine right about now.

“Could I bum one of those?” I ask, pointing at his hand.

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