Coming Home (9 page)

“No. Lucian always handles himself with class.”
Except with Parker, and surely that was an exception.
She hoped she was telling the truth and that the sophistication of the event would prevent any unwanted scenes. “Besides, he probably won’t even notice I’m there.”

Nick smiled. “Well, don’t let age throw your confidence. It’s just a number.” He glanced over his shoulder. “You want to make him see what he gave up? Okay, we’ll put on a nice little show. Come on, let’s get you a drink and have some fun. We’ll pretend we’re rich folk for the night.”

The attendants opened the doors and they were assisted out of the truck. Nick handed over his keys and was given a small white ticket, which he stashed in the breast pocket of his tux.

Someone held the door as they stepped over the threshold, and a throng of guests checking their bags and wraps immediately surrounded them.

“Do you want to check your bag?”

Scout looked at her petite clutch and shook her head. She was territorial when it came to her stuff, and she didn’t want to hinder a fast escape.

Nick took her arm and guided them away from the congested area. She scanned the crowd, and her stomach bottomed out when her gaze settled on Lucian’s tall form. He looked impeccable in his tuxedo.

His dark hair was slicked back naturally like a model lifting out of a swimming pool during a cover shoot. The romantic lighting showed his distinguished, if premature, salt-and-pepper temples, and he had just the right amount of shadow lining his jaw to give him that dangerous tycoon look. He grinned as someone spoke to him.

His tall body was easy to separate from the rest. Broad shoulders filled his jacket and, as her gaze traveled over him, the blond woman beside him distracted her. Nicole Nottingham wore a sequined red gown that displayed her lithe body with an air of class Scout couldn’t muster.

A waiter walked by with a tray of champagne flutes and she snatched one, guzzling down the bubbly liquid fast. Her mouth was incredibly dry. She stashed the empty flute on a mantel to their left and stared as Lucian dismissed the person he was speaking with. He nonchalantly pressed his palm to Nottingham’s bare back—which felt like a punch to Scout’s stomach—and ushered her into the ballroom. Something about the casualness of his touch made it all the more painful to witness.

Scout sucked in a breath as they disappeared. “Do you have the tickets?” Nick asked.

She withdrew them from her bag, self-conscious of the way she’d folded them. Pressing them flat, she handed them over and he gave them to a woman at the desk. Another waiter passed and she grabbed another glass of champagne. This one went down just as fast, but seemed to settle her a bit.

“Ready?” Nick asked.

She took his arm and they followed the guests into the main room. Soft music played as invitees mingled with acquaintances. The chairs were all trimmed in soft shades of rose, and topiaries spilled like waterfalls from the center of each round table.

There were so many flowers, the room smelled like a garden. Crystals hung and candles flickered. The volume of the soft chatter collided with the easy music, creating a low roar that made it difficult to hear.

“I think our table’s this way,” Nick said, guiding them to the back right of the ballroom.

Most of the women wore gowns. Some had short dresses on, but nothing like the dress she’d selected. A cool dew of sweat formed between her breasts, as she grew more uncomfortable about her choice of attire. What was she thinking, wearing a dress like this? She looked like trash.

Men uniformly looked the same. The only telltale differences were in their build and age. It was disorienting, being surrounded by so many men in black. Her steps depended on Nick’s lead as her legs went into autopilot so her eyes could search for Lucian.

They reached their table and Scout took a seat so she was facing the crowd. She wanted to be able to observe from the corner. At their place settings, Nick found a menu and commented on the formality of the courses as she continued her fruitless game of I Spy.

“Champagne?”

Scout turned as a waitress held out a tray. “Thank you,” she said, replacing her empty glass with a full one.

“You may want to slow down. We haven’t eaten yet,” Nick whispered. “I’m going to go up to the bar and see about getting a beer.”

She nodded, ignoring his warning, and sipped from the flute. The room grew louder as more people arrived. Where was he? Her gaze snagged on a flicker of red and she spotted Nottingham. And there was Lucian, right beside her.

Her molars locked. He wasn’t touching her, but the woman stood stoically by his side, clearly staking her claim to him. Someone must have said something funny. Nottingham laughed and her tiny, scarlet-painted nails caressed the sleeve of his jacket.

Scout finished her champagne and guzzled the water at her place. She was incredibly thirsty for some reason. Magically, a white-gloved hand swept her empty glass away and replaced it with a new one.

Nick reappeared with a glass of dark amber beer. Its heady scent mingled awkwardly with the pure fragrance of roses. “So what happens now? Is it like a wedding? Do we dance after we eat? I’ve never been to anything like this.”

“I’m not sure.”

They each silently sipped their drinks and surveyed the room. “Hey, there’s your guy. You gonna say hello?”

Scout’s gaze didn’t leave them. The more she watched Lucian and Nicole, the more she admitted how beautiful they were together. She didn’t know if she should be happy for him or cry. The champagne was going to her head. She hadn’t eaten much that day and now her bladder was painfully full.

Her mind searched for courage she didn’t have so that she could make it to the ladies’ room. “I need to use the restroom,” she whispered to Nick.

“Okay. Hey, check it out. They have an omelet station. Rich people are funny.”

Nick was wonderful at going with the flow, she decided. She envied how comfortable he was with his station in comparison to the rest of the guests. There were likely others like themselves there, but Scout couldn’t pick them out of the crowd.

Her eyes searched dimly lit doorways around the room and found a sign with fancy script. That could be the ladies’ room. She stood and was relieved her legs were working. However, as she tucked in her chair and took her first step, she swayed with the effects of the four glasses of champagne she’d consumed in the past twenty minutes. She needed to slow down.

She shuffled through the crowd, mindful of some eyes—mostly male—watching her make her journey. She was so afraid Lucian might see her. She didn’t chance looking at him. Head down, she made her way to the door she hoped was the restrooms.

Once she reached the perimeter of the ballroom, it was easier to slink by. She turned into the small hall and spotted a woman coming out of a door. Scout pressed the door wide and breathed a sigh of relief when she found a wall of sinks.

She took care of business and washed her hands. It was jarring, seeing herself in the full-length mirror of the ladies’ room. In her high heels, her legs looked a mile long, especially because her dress was so short. Her butt was a tight little ridge covered in black, and her back was completely bare except for where her hair hung past her shoulders.

“I love your dress.”

She turned and found a woman in a blue cocktail dress washing her hands. “Thank you.”

“I wish I had the guts to wear something like that. Although, I don’t know if my husband would want to leave the house then.” She laughed. “He already gave me an earful about dragging him here again. But what are you going to do? If it was up to him we’d never go anywhere.”

Scout laughed nervously. “Yeah.”

“Well, nice talking to you.” The woman left.

Scout glanced back at her reflection.
Shit.
She wished there were a service exit so she could sneak out. What was she doing there? Lucian was with a date, and she’d told him to move on. It wasn’t right for her to come spying on him. She didn’t belong there. It was a painful and expensive lesson, but she got it.

She pressed through the door and decided to tell Nick she changed her mind and wanted to leave. Her head was fuzzy and it took her a moment to locate her table. Had something changed in the room? It appeared different from this vantage point. Her footing slipped and she quickly grasped the arm of a man passing by. “Excuse me. Sorry.”

She was drunk. Hopefully the first course would be served soon and she could get something in her stomach before they left. Or maybe they should just hit a diner. Scout looked up and spotted Lucian, smiling as an older woman pulled his lapel to whisper something in his ear. His eyes scanned the room, and when they landed on her it was as though a thousand silent words came crashing down.

His expression fell as their gazes locked. Whatever the woman whispering to him was saying, she was sure he wasn’t listening. His lips parted and Scout could see the questions running through his head as his brow creased. He glanced to her left and right, perhaps looking for her escort.

Her heart raced as her breath came fast. This was a mistake. Maybe if she left before he caught up to her, he’d think it was a case of mistaken identity. He didn’t need to know how immature she was and that she’d come here to spy on him.

He turned to the older woman and appeared to excuse himself. Nottingham straightened like a lap dog prepared to follow her master, but he gestured to her with a steadying movement of his hand to wait and handed her his drink. She looked crestfallen and frowned at the two glasses now awkwardly filling her dainty, manicured hands.

The second he stepped in Scout’s direction, panic set in. She spotted their table and, with as much grace as she could manage, quickly worked her way back to Nick. Her hip bumped into a guest and she apologized quickly, glancing back to see Lucian hot on her tail.

She didn’t bother to take her seat when she reached the table. “Come on. We have to go!”

Nick glanced up at her, startled. “Already? Why?”

“Because—”

“Ms. Keats.”

Nick’s gaze darted over her shoulder. “Holy shit,” he muttered.

Scout swallowed, feeling the blood rush from her face and turned. “Mr. Patras, nice to see you here.”

He scowled. His gaze travelled over her barely there dress and over her shoulder, giving Nick an assessing glare. “I didn’t expect you to be in attendance.”

“It was a last-minute thing.”

“A very expensive last-minute thing,” he muttered. He extended his hand to Nick. “Lucian Patras.”

Nick stood. “Nick Ramsey. Nice to meet you.”

They shook and Lucian turned his gaze back to her, his displeasure at her presence slightly concealed, but very much obvious nonetheless. Her spine stiffened at the indignity of being caught and made to feel foolish. She was mad at herself but linked it all back to the intimidating man staring her down.

Her chin lifted. “You’ll have to introduce me to
your
date,” she said succinctly.

His lips tightened. “Might I have a word?”

She glanced back at Nick, who shrugged. “I think they’ll be serving dinner soon—”

His fingers wrapped around her arm. It was a casual gesture, but there was steel behind his grip. “Just a moment of your time.”

She barely had a chance to shoot Nick an apologetic glance before Lucian dragged her away from the table. “You’re hurting my arm,” she hissed as he deftly worked his way through the crowd. “Where are we going?”

He didn’t answer. Her feet worked hard to keep up with his clipped pace as he shuffled her down a corridor and out a door. They were in a courtyard when he finally released her. She glared at him, rubbing her arm.

“What are you doing here?” he hissed.

It was her turn to scowl. “Celebrating the Rose Bowl.”

“Do you even know what the Rose Bowl is, Evelyn?”

No
. “Yes,” she answered indignantly.

He gave her a look that called her a liar. “Who’s the guy?”

“I believe introductions have been made.”

He stepped closer and she stepped back. “Don’t play games with me. Who is he?”

“A friend,” she quickly relented.

“What
kind
of friend?”

“Lucian, are we really going to do this?”

“Oh, we’re doing this,” he growled, stepping closer again and causing her to take another retreating pace back. She glanced around the garden. It appeared they were alone.

“I think we should go back inside.”

His eyes narrowed. “That’s some dress you’re wearing.”

“I . . . I misunderstood the formality of the evening.”

“A slight breeze and your nipples will show.”

She uncomfortably crossed her arms over her chest. Damn him. His finger trailed over her bare shoulder, and she shivered.

“You’ve had too much to drink and they haven’t served dinner yet.”

“I’m fine.”

He stepped closer again and she found it impossible to step back. “Why are you here?” he whispered, his fingers gently tugging her arms away.

Her hands tingled and she insisted it was a result of the champagne. The tip of his index finger trailed over the slight swell of her breast, sweeping beneath the billowy fabric and coming dangerously close to her bare nipple.

Unwanted company interrupted the moment. “Lucian?” He stilled and she sucked in a breath. Slowly he lowered his hand and turned.

Nicole Nottingham stood at the door they’d exited, her long arms crossed over her perfect chest as though she had a chill. Scout stepped back. The woman’s face was questioning. Lucian paced back and Scout nearly cried at what the act implied.

Lucian was with Nicole. She was his date and it was inappropriate for them to be out there in the garden alone.

He turned and Nicole walked with the grace of a floating angel to his side. Scout hated her for being so perfect. She glanced at Lucian then to Scout questioningly. “Nicole Nottingham, this is Evelyn Keats.”

The sting at having her name second in the introduction burned through her. She extended her hand and Nottingham did the same, turning her palm downward as though she expected her to kiss it. The shake was a mere gripping of fingers that carried much more class on the other woman’s end.