I split my focus between watching the expertly cut film and watching people’s reactions to it. Some had the same awe I felt. Some looked one yawn away from passing out. And a few looked irked about their lack of screentime. A nearby character actor glared each time Tripp was on screen, despite the fact he’d been kissing my boss’s ass less than an hour before.
My gaze went to Tripp with the most frequency as he smiled or laughed or whatever the clip called for. He wasn’t resentful or fake. His joy was as genuine as his love of movies, and it hit my chest in a way I didn’t expect.
As did the way he kept looking at me when he was on the screen. Like he wanted to see my reaction. Like it was important to him.
Like it truly meant something to him.
I didn’t have to fake my enjoyment. Seeing him switch from cocky superhero to cool, sophisticated spy was incredible. But the best came at the end when his handsome face was twisted in psychotic obsession. SinceOld Flamestill took up far too much of my brain’s capacity, I recognized the scene from outside of the cottage instantly. His eerily muttered, “There’s more to come, love,” was the perfect ending for the shocking, poignant, funny, heartbreaking, and steamy montage.
The room erupted in applause as Isaac took the stage again to kick off the party portion of the evening. As he spoke, a band quietly assembled behind him. Music swelled as soon as he wrapped up.
The night continued on like that. People dancing. Laughing. Drinking. A lot of that last one.
If Tripp was already popular before the video, it skyrocketed after. The frequency of his appearances made it obvious to everyone that he was someone to befriend.
Whether they were doing it to network or to keep their enemy close was a different, exhausting matter altogether.
But he didn’t seem surprised or fazed by his two-faced peers. He gave them all the same surface-level friendliness.
And I did my best to swoop in with some question or interruption that gave him an out.
I was rewarded for the effort with the same subtle touches I used to tease and distract him.
Though the more I did it, the more I was just torturing myself. My body was restless and desperate for more than secret grazes. At least it was a mutual destruction.
I knew it for a fact when Tripp shot me a look before shifting in his seat to give me a quick glimpse of the hard-on that tested the confines of his slacks. He’d barely moved to hide the evidence before Isaac took the seat on the other side of him.
I used the opportunity to refresh my drink since I was suddenly the thirsty one. I barely stood before his hand shot out to grab my wrist. He was quick to release it, though he didn’t look happy about it or me standing.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Just getting another drink, Sir.” I offered a smile to Isaac even as I scrambled to remember his last name. Coming upempty, my polite words tumbled free out of years of habit. “That was a wonderful speech, sir. Congratulations on such a big anniversary.”
The older man offered his own polite gratitude, likely not caring about the opinion of a nobody but experienced enough to fake it.
Tripp cared, though. His heated stare at my words to him turned to a narrowed eyed glare the moment I called the other mansir. With a single look, he conveyed his displeasure.
And I knew my ass was going to take the brunt of it the second we were locked in a room at Gilded.
Better hydrate while I can.
I get the feeling I’m going to need it.
With a bland smile at them both that turned into an apologetic one to Tripp once Isaac all but dismissed me, I made my way to the bar to wait.
And wait.
And wait some more.
Since I wasn’t one of the recognizable faces that kept cutting in, it took a lot longer than I expected to get the two waters. When I finally had them, I started back to the table before pausing.
That is where we were sitting.
Right?
I scanned around, confirming that was, in fact, our table. I scanned again to see if I could spot Tripp.
Where did he go?
