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She plants a smile for the cameras, holding onto my arm and letting me lead the way.
I, however, keep my rooted scowl in place while the paparazzi take their pictures for tomorrow’s society pages.
When we’re safely inside the lobby of the Preston Hotel, my heart drops to the pit of my stomach watching her beautiful smile disappear now that the cameras are nowhere in sight.
I’m fucking this up, and I can’t even stop myself.
“You want to tell me what’s wrong?” she whispers beside me as we make our way to the ballroom.
“Nothing’s wrong. I just hate coming to these things, that’s all.”
She purses her lips, obviously not buying what I’m selling, but doesn’t say anything in return.
We mingle with guests in the large ballroom for the next couple of hours, Lottie being her usual bubbly self as she introduces me to all the big wigs around. And there are a lot of them.
I’m pretty sure that if someone combined all the fortunes of every man and woman here, it would be enough to end world hunger.
But hey, that would mean actually giving a fuck about the poor.
I’d bet my last dollar bill that the only reason why half of these people came out tonight for this shindig is to get their picture taken while rubbing elbows with Boston’s wealthy elite.
It has nothing to do with charity.
“You’re doing good, Nate. Really,” Lottie praises after I manage not to fumble my words with the last banker she introduced me to.
“Was that the guy?” I ask, pulling at my shirt’s collar, unable to get enough air in this stifling room.
“Unfortunately, no. I haven’t seen Lawrence yet, but I’m sure he’s around here somewhere. It is his hotel, after all.”
“Wait… the guy planning to buy the Guardians owns this hotel?”
She nods.
“That’s not all he owns. The Preston family has their hands in a lot of cookie jars. The hospitality business is just one of them,” she explains, taking a sip of her champagne.
“You seem to know a lot about this guy. Is he a friend of yours?” I ask, trying desperately not to sound like a jealous jerk.
“You can say that.”
I open my mouth to probe further but am interrupted by a strong hand falling on my shoulder.
“Glad to see you here tonight, Wilder,” an all-too-familiar voice says behind me.
I turn around and find Trent Nichols in the same monkey suit I’m wearing, staring back at me.
“And even more pleased you brought Piper’s friend with you.” He smiles over at Lottie standing beside me. “It’s Charlotte, correct? How lovely to see you again.”
“Likewise,” Lottie politely replies.
“I must admit, I’m a little stunned to see you here, Wilder. Seems like the tide is turning in your favor, considering you scored an invite to the social event of the season. I’m impressed.”
“Thank you, sir,” I retort, since I’m not exactly sure if it was a sincere compliment on his part or a backhanded comment.
With Trent, you never know what he’s thinking.
“If your sports agent was able to get you an invite, I can only say that she’s doing wonders in rehabilitating your image. Is she also in attendance by any chance?” he asks, feigning boredom, though I don’t miss how his gaze scans the crowd around us as if looking for someone.
“No, she’s not,” Lottie explains on my behalf with a stiff smile, not clarifying that Piper had no hand in getting me here tonight. That was all Erin’s doing.
