He leaned in close to the microphone, speaking in a faux whisper. “Hint: It’sbeforethe fight breaks out.”
A few gasps, and more laughter.
She rubbed her temples. Had Ron approved a reference to Alex’s arrest? If not, if that was an ad-lib, she and Alex were sure to hear about it in the near future.
“In just a minute, Mariela Medellín, our local director, will tell you more about what the organization does, whom it helps, and how it works, because that’s important information.” He inclined his head toward the dark-haired woman standing to the side and slightly behind him on the stage. “But I’m here tonight as a representative of self-absorbed Hollywood. I’m here to tell you what’s in it for you if you donate and donate big.”
WasAlex self-absorbed?
When they’d first met, she’d have said yes. Without hesitation.
Now, she wasn’t so sure.
“I’ve played heroes on television and movie screens. Demigods. Firefighters. Doctors. Spurned lovers of French mimes.” More laughter. “But I’ve never felt more like a hero than the day I associated myself with this organization and handed them my first check. The day I realized more money meant more resources for those suffering abuse. My money—yourmoney—ensures local survivors know their options, know how to get help, know they can leave, know how to build a new life, and know they can do so safely and with ample support.”
He raised his brows and leaned forward again, and most people she saw at surrounding tables leaned forward too.
“So here’s what’s in it for you.” He flicked a finger, indicating everyone in the room. “With the money you donate tonight, you can feel like a hero too. Even better, you canbea hero to someone who desperately needs one.”
His next words were slow, paced so every single one of them sank in. “And I may be a self-absorbed Hollywood brat, but even I understand the most important part: With the money you donate tonight, you can help an abused woman be herownhero.”
He let them sit with that for a few seconds before speaking again.
“Thank you for coming tonight, and remember: I know how much you made on your most recent films, and I know what you spent on those sharp-looking suits and shiny dresses, so I expect some damn big bids tonight. Lookin’ at you, Carah Brown. You owe me for that ‘delightful asshole’ jab.” As Carah laughed and the crowd tittered, he turned on his heel to face the charity’s director. “Now please welcome Mariela Medellín.”
When the audience applauded, Lauren sat back in her chair and stared at him.
She’d thought she’d figured him out. Maybe not all the details, but at least the basic contours of who he was and what she could expect from him.
She hadn’t. She didn’t know him at all, and he certainly didn’t know her.
But that could change, if she wanted.
And she did want. Entirely too much.
10
AFTER THE LIVE AUCTION ENDED, ALEX HAD TO WADE HISway through crowds of attendees who wanted to chat, praise his speech, brag about the size of their donations, and/or take selfies. In the end, over an hour passed before he could make his way back to his table.
He’d missed the dinner, but he didn’t give a shit about that. His thudding skull and thundering heart took precedence over his empty stomach.
Alex greeted his friends with curt apologies and a promise to chat later in the evening. Then he immediately turned to Lauren, seated in her upholstered chair and picking at the remains of her cherry cheesecake as she listened to Carah swear loudly about something.
He should wait until they got home.
This wasn’t the sort of conversation to have in public, but he couldn’t hold it in anymore. Not after hours spent biting back the words that needed to be said in favor of smiling and making idiotic small talk and persuading people to empty their wallets.
Once Desiree had assured him that Lauren really was fine, his fury toward his minder had ballooned, and it hadn’t shrunk since. Instead, it had only expanded as he’d watched her walk into the ballroom and study her surroundings with that sharp gaze; as he’d watched her quietly take her seat, black lace teasing the pale skin of her collarbones; and especially as he’d watched her watchhimduring his speech, her attention rapt and … proud, almost.
It had caught at his throat, that look. It had made speaking difficult.
At one of his stupid jokes, a rare laugh had turned her beautiful eyes bright, and—
All of that, all of who she was, could have beengone,all because she didn’t give a damn about herself.
It was intolerable.
Bending at the waist, he spoke into her ear, quietly enough that no one else could hear. “How badly are you injured?”
