The guys snicker while I check my watch again, brows knitting together.
“You got somewhere to be?” Todd sneers.
“No. I’m expecting someone.”
I figured she would be here by now, but her headache must really be taking a toll on her. For all I know, she may end up being a no-show.
“Your date?”
“Damn,” Todd mutters under his breath. His eyes move past us, and we collectively follow his gaze.
Marley.
She walks with grace as she comes through the entrance. Her skin glows against the peach dress clinging to her curves, and her long locs and curls cascade over her shoulders and down her back. She’s like a breath of fresh air in a smoke-filled room. I want to pull her close and breathe her in.
I don’t waste any time excusing myself, eager to be near her. To feel her. Smell her. Kiss her.
These damn rules are going to be the death of me.
20
vanity fair
MARLEY
I enter the Honu House,my nerves on edge and my eyes bouncing nervously around the restaurant. The place is filled with a posh crowd, a blur of movement, with everyone dressed in their finest clothes. Servers glide through the tables with trays of hors d’oeuvres and a yellow cocktail with a mini green palm leaf sticking out of it. I spy guests laughing, dancing, and talking animatedly, but my eyes are still searching for that familiar handsome face.
When I finally spot him near the back, my heart literally skips a beat. I hate that he makes me feel this way. Nervous and giddy and, dare I say,lustful.
Even now, with his back turned to me, Othello has some kind of magnetic pull that makes it difficult to focus on anything or anyone else. He is a hard man to resist. And it isn’t because of how sexy I think he is. It’s because of how easy he is to talk to. How comfortable he makes me feel. His humble confidence, his thoughtfulness, the way he makes me laugh, and how he is always the perfect gentleman.
The crowd seems to be moving in slow motion as I saunter through the rich and famous. My nerves are doing back flips in my stomach, and my heart is fluttering like mad. My eyes zero in on Othello and no one else. He’s talking with a group of men, his broad shoulders relaxed, his stature tall and poised. He lifts his glass to his lips, but pauses. He either feels my presence or someone says something because he and the men he’s standing with all turn to look at me. Now I feel like I’m on fire, my cheeks burning with uncertainty and excitement.
Othello looks at me, and I can’t help but smile. When he returns the sentiment, my knees almost give out. He has the sexiest smirk. Full lips that curve up in a lopsided grin.
So sexy.
A voice in my head warns me not to get caught up. I have to remind myself why I’m here. Othello didn’t bring me here by choice. More like panic. Tonight we’re both playing a game of great pretenders. This is all a stunt. It’s not real.
Randomly, I hear Michael Jackson’s voice in my head, saying,“None of it’s true. None of it’s true.”
Yes. None of this is true.
Othello and I continue our walk towards each other, heat coiling in my stomach the closer we get. When Othello reaches me, his eyes are on my mouth. He runs a tongue across his lips and then slowly leans in, his mouth landing softly on my forehead.
Me and my fuckin’ rules.
As if reading my expression, Othello’s luscious lips curl into that dangerous, heart-stopping smile.
“You’re late,” he says, voice low and teasing.
“Fashionably, I hope.”
His gaze drifts down my body. “Yes, I’ll give you that,” he murmurs. “You look…incredible.”
“Thank you. Did I miss much?”
“Not at all. You’re right on time. Everyone is just mingling before we sit for dinner. How’s your headache?”
