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The words dig under my skin. “I’m a lucky man,” I say mildly. “Now excuse me, I need to find her.”
I see the shadow of hurt in the way she looks at me. It’s barely perceptible, but still there. I push the guilt away and walk past her, Bennett close behind me.
“Who was that?” he asks.
“Nobody.” The lie burns, but I don’t slow down. Whoever she used to be, she’s nothing compared to the woman I’m married to.
Bennett jogs to keep up. “Uncle Vin said there’d be a lot of hotties here, but damn. If they all look like her, I’m screwed.”
I stop dead, turning to stare at him. “Vin knows you’re here?”
“He called yesterday. Said he was on the East Coast or something. I don’t know.” Bennett shrugs.
A cold weight settles in my stomach. Of course Vin wouldn’t lie low. He’s like a shadow I can’t shake. But Eden is waiting. And she’s the only one I’m concerned about right now.
“Holy shit,” Bennett says. I look to my right, and see my wife walking out of the ladies’ area like she owns the place, and any coherent thought I might have goes right out of my head.
“Go find the bar,” I say to Bennett. “Talk to people. Have a good time.”
Thankfully, he gets the hint. When I tell my wife how beautiful she looks, I don’t need him to be here. In fact, right now I’m seriously considering scooping her into my arms and taking her back to our hotel.
Her blue dress shimmers beneath the glow of the chandeliers. The silk skims her perfect curves, making her look more like a movie star than any woman in here. Her hair is pinned up, revealing the perfect curve of her neck and her creamy shoulders. My breath catches as I take in the beauty of her face.
The way she looks at me.
Like I’m worthy of her, not the idiot who fell for my own wife.
“Hi,” she breathes, as I reach for her hand, pulling her toward me. “By the way, looking that good in a tux isn’t playing fair.”
I try to remember how to speak, as I cup her face, revelling in her softness, her warmth. “I don’t deserve a wife this beautiful,” I tell her, finally finding the words. “You take my breath away.”
“Didn’t think I’d scrub up, did you?” Her eyes dance as she says it.
“Didn’t think you’d want to. And don’t get me wrong, I like you just as much in cut offs and a tank.”
“Easier access,” she agrees. “It’ll take you an hour to get this dress off me. And the lingerie underneath.”
“I look forward to every minute.” I smile softly at her. “Ready to make your Hollywood debut?” I ask her, squeezing her palm.
“We’re in the Hamptons.”
“Same thing.” Except where beaten up sneakers are concerned. Thankfully Bennett is out of earshot.
She wrinkles her nose. “I’m not even close to ready,” she tells me. “But let’s get this over with and then you can play dress up with me.”
It’ll be more like dress off, but whatever. “Okay, Mrs. Abbott,” I murmur. “Let’s take you into the vipers’ den.”
EDEN
As soon as we step into the ballroom – because apparently it’s completely normal for a house in the Hamptons to have a room dedicated to hosting hundreds of people in their holiday home – the atmosphere changes. Everything in here feels drenched in sophistication and money. Crystal chandeliers glitter above us, their prisms scattering the room in gold. Waiters weave through the crowd carrying trays of champagne flutes, the glass catching and throwing sparks with every step. And string music hums low beneath the swell of voices like the soundtrack of a world I don’t belong in.
West’s palm is warm and steady against the small of my back, his thumb stroking slow circles against the silk of my dress.
He steers me through the crowd with unhurried confidence, heads turning as he does. Nobody doubts that West Abbott belongs here.
“Champagne?” a waiter asks. West takes a glass and hands it to me, then grabs a flute of orange juice for himself.
“Come on,” he murmurs, his hand still firm against the small of my back. He guides me through the swell of silk gowns and black tuxedos until we reach a couple standing near the dais at the far end of the room. They’re magnetic, even from a distance – everybody is looking at them.
