He's also a good head taller than everyone here, so he's got that working for him. No one's going to question him.
His arm rests lightly against mine as we move through the crowd, and every time someone approaches, I feel the subtle shift in his posture, protective and ready.
"Miss Killaney!" A woman in a silver gown waves at me, her teeth too white, her skin too tan. "Darling, you look absolutely stunning tonight."
I lean into my practiced charm. "Thank you, Mrs. Harrington. It's so wonderful to see you."
She air-kisses both my cheeks, her perfume choking the air between us. "And who is this handsome gentleman?"
I glance up at Octavian, who stands like a statue carved from stone, his expression neutral but his presence commanding.
"This is Octavian," I say smoothly.
"Wow, where do I get one?" she says, and laughs.
“Oh, this one was specifically made just for me,” I say and look up at Octavian who shoots me a glance.
I just smirk and touch his arm
"Well, enjoy your night, Mrs. Harrington."
"Okay, Keira, darling, thanks. You too. Oh, and I simply must talk to you about our little gala next month for the women's thing I run."
"Absolutely."
She turns to Octavian. "Bye, handsome."
She walks past us, and Octavian's suit jacket brushes against my bare arm. The heat from his body radiates through me, and I catch the faint scent of his cologne that makes me want to lean closer.
Stop it.
I force myself to focus on anyone to talk to.
I spot Mrs. Wills and approach her.
We start talking, but it's no use. Her words turn to a ramble as soon as Octavian shifts and rests his hand on the small of my back.
Just a light touch.
Barely there.
But it burns through me like fire.
"So what do you think, dear?"
I blink, realizing I have no idea what she just asked. "I think that sounds perfect, Mrs. Wills. I'll have my assistant reach out to coordinate."
She beams. "Wonderful! Enjoy your evening."
As she floats away, I exhale slowly.
"You didn't hear a word she said," Octavian says, his breath warm against my ear.
"Neither did you," I shoot back.
I turn to glare at him, but he's already scanning the room again, his jaw tight, his eyes sharp.
A waiter passes with a tray of champagne, and I snag a glass, taking a long sip to steady my nerves.
