“I wanted it to be a surprise. You’re beautiful.” Flynn dropped a kiss on my cheek and then shook Malcolm’s hand.
I took in his appearance; his broad shoulders had been fit into an elegant tuxedo jacket, a tie at his neck. But his legs…damn those legs. They were a sight to behold in the Campbell tartan that consisted of blue, green, and black threads.
“You look incredible,” I murmured.
He grinned. “Shall we?” Flynn asked, gesturing to the front door.
The three of us climbed into the waiting limo. “Isn’t this overkill? We’re only going a few blocks,” I pointed out. The Met was on 5th and 82nd. The Rex was on 5th and 79th.
Flynn raised an eyebrow. “You thought we’d walk?”
“I don’t know what I thought,” I admitted. “Won’t we spend more time in traffic than if we just walked?”
“Appearances,” Flynn said.
“Right. Should’ve known,” I said.
“I’ll need this then?” Malcolm speculated, taking the glass of scotch Flynn had poured for him.
“You were the one that decided to come,” Flynn reminded him. “You could be at home sitting in front of a fire, the hounds at your feet.”
“Hounds? You have hounds?” I asked Malcolm.
“Aye. Three of them.”
Sometimes I felt like I was living in a parallel universe. My eyes fell onto Flynn’s bare calves, and I remembered the other night with the camera. I hadn’t looked at the photos yet. Maybe I was afraid of what I’d see—a woman I didn’t recognize and a man I was losing myself to.
Shoving all those thoughts away, I focused on the moment with Flynn and Malcolm. I couldn’t believe I was about to attend a charity event. I didn’t belong to the echelon that frequented these sorts of things—I wasn’t a Rhodes. Ash was used to all this; she’d been a debutante, a socialite, and came from old money.
“What’s this event for?” I asked.
Flynn gave a wry smile. “Funding for after school art programs.”
“You believe in the children,” I teased.
“They are our future.”
“So I’ve been told.”
We pulled up to the Met, and Flynn helped me out of the car. There were photographers standing on the steps, and they snapped some photos of me on Flynn’s arm. He shielded me with his body as best he could and quickly ushered me inside, Malcolm trailing behind us.
The Great Hall of the museum was decorated in red and gold brocade. Private, elite events were nothing new at the Met, but it was new to me. Ever since I met Flynn, I was privy to a world I’d never had access to.
I wondered if I’d ever get used to Flynn’s power and money. At some point, did he just expect things a certain way and only noticed when they weren’t in the state he wanted them? Money had to change people. Looking around at women who wore jewels that belonged in protected vaults and men who controlled billion-dollar companies, I knew these people expected the best of the best.
With Flynn by my side, I was learning to enjoy the finer things in life. Every experience I had because of him, I wanted to relish. My smile was bright and genuine as Flynn escorted me around the room.
“I need a real drink,” Malcolm said after meeting a deluge of Flynn’s acquaintances.
I placed a hand on his arm. “Are you okay?”
He nodded. “I’m not used to these sorts of things.”
“There’s a bar nearby. But if you go that way”—I pointed in the opposite direction—“and you wander through there, you’ll eventually get to the Arms and Armor collection.”
“You’re a lovely lass,” he said, kissing my cheek in an unusual show of affection.
Flynn was lost in conversation about some sort of investment plan with an affable middle-aged man, so he didn’t see his godfather leave. Flynn shook hands with the man and then turned his attention back to me. “Have we lost Malcolm?”
