Page 88 of The Lies of Bryn van Doren

“I have something for you,” he admits, his lips still grazing her skin.

“You do?”

“Yes. Wait here.”

He doesn’t go far, the small parcels he hid after his errand the previous afternoon tucked into a drawer of his dresser. When he holds out the first Harry Winston box, Jessica doesn’t move to open it, but looks between it and him repeatedly.

“Khalohn…”

“If you insist I must go, and if you do me the honor of being my date, then it is my duty to ensure that when you walk into the room, you won’t be the only one not dripping in diamonds.”

Her gaze now zeroed in on the still closed box, she whispers, “Diamonds.”

“That is what Harry Winston is known for.”

“I—this—tonight is supposed to be me saying thank you. Me making sure you don’t sacrifice anything else for me. Me making sure you don’t miss something important. I—diamonds?”

A hint of a smile curls the corner of his mouth and he tucks the box he extended beneath his arm before opening the second. He doesn’t miss the soft gasp she sucks in at the sight of the tennis bracelet, matching the long linear drop earrings he purchased after he snuck a peek at her gown. Extracting the piece from the box, he sets the container aside and reaches for her right wrist before clasping on the bracelet.

“This gala is a parade, precious. You’ll see.” He pauses, this time opening the earring box on her behalf as he continues, “Your gratitude is noted, but that doesn’t make these diamonds any less yours. And if you feel obligated to express more gratitude than the humble manner in which you’re receiving these gifts now, it won’t be in a room full of people at a party. My preference would entail you and I alone—naked. Now…” Khalohn dips his chin down at the box and insists, “Put them on. Atzel will be waiting by now.”

“Right. Okay,” she breathes, reaching for the earrings with shaking hands.

It takes her a minute to screw on the backs once they are in her ears, but the effort is well worth it. When they’re both ready, he takes her hand in his, draws her close and murmurs, “Priceless. Positively priceless.”

As they walkinto the ballroom, Jessica’s unoccupied hand tucked into the crook of Khalohn’s elbow, her belly twists with her rising anxiety. Since Porter mentioned the gala—whereeveryone with any power in this city will be, along withthose stupid enough to think they’ve got power, but rich enough to get through the door—she thought she could scrounge up the courage to stand by Khalohn’s side for the night. After all, she’s getting used to what it feels like to be around power. Her first night with Khalohn until now, he’s not lost a bit of that confidence which seems to leak from his pores, making him even more sexy than his entire body broadcasts all on its own.

However, it doesn’t take long tofeelthe power and money in the room. It’s hard for her to suck down a full breath, the atmosphere so thick it’s overwhelming. Looking around, she feels like a total fraud. Her heartbeat picks up speed, her grip around Khalohn’s arm tightening as she tries not to panic.

Someone’s going to notice.

I’m just a girl from Bay Ridge.

I’m no one special. No one noteworthy.

These diamonds are real, I’m wearing Ralph Lauren, but I do not belong here.

“Hey.” Khalohn’s voice breaks through her thoughts as he covers her hand with his own. He doesn’t speak another word until her eyes find his. He then lifts his eyebrows, signaling what he’s about to say is serious. “When you’re ready to go, you say the word and we’re gone.”

“We just got here,” she whispers, trying to hide her nerves.

“Precious—you say the word and we’re gone.”

She stares at him for a long moment. Part of her wants to tuck tail and run. Then she remembers all he’s done for her over the last week. Not just the bills he paid, but how attentive and gentle he’s been. Certain she needs to see this through, she admits, “I think we should stay. I’m just nervous.”

“You’ve no reason to be nervous. You look stunning. Stay close, and we’ll both make it through the night.”

A small smile helps her relax a little as she promises, “I’m not letting you go.”

“Good,” he replies with a wink.

Khalohn escorts her further into the elegantly decorated room, successfully resisting the pull into any of the ongoing conversations while doling out polite nods hello. Jessica notices the soft music which fills her ears is being played by a small live band, and there are servers mingling amongst the crowd with trays of champagne. She’s never really had a taste for champagne, but she can’t deny a little liquid courage might go a long way—especially with the amount of over-the-shoulder glances being casted in her direction.

“Khal?” she whispers.

“Jess?”

When she called his name, her focus was still bouncing around the room. At his use of her nickname, her head jerks to look up at him, her small grin unavoidable. It’s the first time he’s ever said it, and she hopes it’s not the last.

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