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“Really, Darren?” I roll my eyes at him as I look at myself in the mirror.
He leans close to my ear. “This is for the shirts – and the underwear.”
I narrow my eyes at him.
He gives me a devilish smile while gathering my hair in his fist, holding it away from my face, and causing goosebumps along my back. “I think your hair would look lovely held back. Shows off your beautiful neck,” he murmurs.
“I thought this was for a charity, not a burlesque show?” I clear my throat and smooth down the dress as he backs away from me.
“That’s appropriate, because charity events are a sort of dog and pony show.” He lifts an eyebrow. “Besides, the cost per plate plus the money raised at the silent auction all go to the domestic violence charity my mother supported,” Darren explains.
“How much does each plate cost?” I ask, gathering my hair and twisting it into a low bun.
Darren gives me one of his wolfish smiles as he adjusts his bowtie in the mirror behind me. “You don’t want to know,” he says, and perhaps he’s right.
For someone who claims to hate these types of events, he sure has made an attempt to look nothing less than striking in his black tux that shows off his broad shoulders and lean waist. For once, he’s managed to wrangle each strand of dark hair to stay in place. He almost – almost – looks respectable, if it wasn’t for the perpetual glint of mischief in his eyes.
He takes hold of my hand, turning me around to face him. His eyes drop to my lips, as if he’s debating whether it’s worth it to smear my red lipstick. I take in a shaky breath and feel the air fill up my chest as his lips hover over mine.
The decision was made when he releases me, and it’s like the world snaps back into place.
“We should get going,” he says, holding out his arm for me to take. I slip the mask off for the ride over and tuck it into my small purse.
It’s been a week since the press have been camped outside of the house, and just like Lottie said, a new squirrel caught their attention – but that doesn’t mean they’ve forgotten. Darren advised that Rausch had taken measures to minimize the press presence, and I don’t want to know what it takes to suppress free speech, but I’m glad they’ve left the front of the house.
While I’ve been to dinners and fancy events before, never have I gone as someone’s wife. Staring out the window, I watch as the city goes by, little twinkling lights enveloped in a blanket of midnight blue.
I notice Darren nervously checks the inside of his jacket pocket again where he stuffed his notecards.
“You went to law school,” I muse. “I thought speaking in front of a room full of people was like second nature?”
“Contrary to popular belief, I’m not good at everything.”
“Then what are you good at?”
Darren turns to me, his lips tugging into a wicked smile. “You, of all people, shouldn’t have to ask.”
I narrow my eyes at him, but inside, my stomach twists into knots because yes, there is something Darren is very good at.
“I doubt the patrons of the charity event will give you credit for your excellence at eating pussy,” I say, clasping my hands demurely in my lap.
Darren chuckles, leaning in close to my ear. “Be careful, Evangeline, or I will show you what else I’m good at – and it has nothing to do with that sweet cunt of yours.”
I swallow hard, turning my head to look out the window again, but I can't help squirming in my seat.
“So why are you giving a speech if you don’t like it?” I ask.
Darren rubs his forehead. “It’s too late to back out now,” he says. “The foundation thought it would be beneficial to have someone from the Walker family give a speech.”
“Maybe get a few more donations.”
Darren purses his lips into a flat smile. “Now you’re thinking like a true D.C. socialite.”
“I don’t take that as a compliment.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
“Why domestic violence?” I’ve wanted to ask ever since I found out about his mother’s involvement in the foundation, but there never seemed to be a quiet moment to do so.
