Page 4 of Choosing Scarlet

“This is Tim,” I say, nodding toward the smaller dog to her right, who pushes his head forward, nudging her hand. “And that’s Boa.” The larger dog taps her paws impatiently against the marble floor, waiting for her turn for affection. I have never seen them take to someone so quickly.

“I’m going to take a not-so-wild guess,” she says softly, crouching slightly to meet their level. “These are rescue babies, aren’t they? A friend of mine has one. When she first got her puppy, he was terrified of human touch. He relaxed slowly, and now he can’t get enough of it. Just like these two.” She glances down at them, her fingers brushing Tim’s fur. She’s not far from the truth. That has been exactly their journey, one step at a time, until trust was earned. And now, it seems, they are ready to give it freely.

“And your guess would be right,” I say, still struggling to tear my eyes away from her.

“Many people fear Staffies,” she continues, “but I think they are one of the kindest breeds in the world. These two only prove it. They have such wonderful energy.”

“They haven’t always been like that.” I slide my hands into my pockets. “They had their terrible twos phases, being naughty and unstoppable, but that’s long past.”

Her eyes lock on mine when the words leave my lips, and the faintest glimmer of mischief flickers there.

“From what I’ve seen, you do look like a man who can handle all kinds of situations,” she teases with a playful tilt in her voice. Amusement rushes through me. This is supposed to be a professional arrangement for the evening rather than an intimate one, yet I can’t ignore the way my thoughts begin to wander. Questions that are entirely inappropriate for this moment start creeping in. What would she look like beneath her dress? What would it feel like to have her close? What sounds would she make? What would she taste like?

Before the thoughts escalate to a kinkier ground, I steer the conversation back to safer territory. “So I take it you’ve done some research?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

The curve of her lips tells me everything I need to know. “Of course. I research all my clients. I need to know what I’m dealing with.” That curiosity, it seems, is mutual, but I keep that thought tucked away.

“Duly noted,” is all I say. With a single smooth gesture, I signal Tim and Boa to return to their beds. They obey immediately, rushing back to their spots in the living room while I close the door behind them. I extend my hand to her. “Shall we?”

She nods softly and puts her hand in mine without hesitation. “Of course.”

As we move down the stairs toward the garage, where my driver waits, a few things become clear. First, we have a long night ahead of us. Second, I made the right choice in choosing the woman to accompany me tonight. And third, just that fact alone will make keeping my hands to myself an exercise in willpower. One that I already know will be very, very difficult.

SCARLET

The stars have never failed me before. They have guided me through every major turn in my life, and I have always listened to them. I trusted them when I decided to leave Tennessee behind, even when fear tried to hold me back. I trusted them when Seth and I fell apart, believing that the pain would lead me somewhere better. And I trusted them when I accepted the offer to work at The Network, unsure of what my future would look like.

Every time, they have proven me right.

So now, as much as I try to quiet the less logical part of my brain, I want to trust them again. My latest reading suggested that something significant would shift in my romantic life. I wasn’t searching for something serious. Not consciously, at least, but the cards spoke clearly. Now, sitting across from Knox, I wonder if the stars are beginning to align again.

Logic warns me otherwise. Too many things stand in the way. He’s a client, and personal involvement in this line of work is always discouraged, regardless of how often such boundaries are tested. He belongs to a world that’s polished, powerful, and far from mine. And worse, his Libra moon and Saturn in the seventh house suggest emotional restraint; a man who feels deeply but locks it all behind walls of composure and control. Unfortunately so. I fight the urge to sigh. That could be a problem.

But no amount of logic can silence the pull I feel. The moment he opened the door, something shifted inside me. I’ve met many men, yet I can’t recall ever wanting one quite like this. The thought of being near him, close enough to touch and close enough to know what lies beneath that calm exterior, has circled in my mind since our eyes met.

“The gala is of a charitable nature,” he says as we ride together in the backseat of the car. The hum of the engine fills the silence between us. His gaze remains fixed ahead on the road, even though he has a driver tonight, though there’s a flicker of awareness that tells me he knows I’m studying him. “I don’t expect much business talk tonight. It’s mostly an opportunity for people to support the cause, network a little, and make themselves seen.”

I nod slightly, folding my hands in my lap. “So I’m to stay silent by your side?” My tone is calm, but there’s a hint of teasing underneath. I want to know what he expects from me as a client and a man.

He turns those icy blue eyes on me, and I’m grateful I’m seated because my knees suddenly feel weak. “No. Of course not,” he says. “You can engage with others. Speak to whomever you like when they are in our company. I’ve hired you for a reason. Even though we come from different worlds, you are interesting and striking, and people will notice that. They’ll appreciate it.”

His words make my stomach flutter. Normally, in situations like this, the girls booked for events like this are expected to look good and serve as a pretty accessory to the man who hired them. Conversation is minimal, and personality rarely matters.

He seems sincere. There is a firmness behind his words, an honesty that deepens my curiosity. I nod slightly, trying to mask the tightness that suddenly appears in my chest. I realize I’m genuinely nervous about a booking for the first time in a long time.

“One last thing,” I say, taking a careful look at him. “I think it would be best if you didn’t mention the full name listed on my profile when you booked me. I doubt you’d want anyone connecting the dots or finding me there, right?”

He studies me for a brief moment, his expression unreadable, and then gives a slight nod. “Smart thinking,” he replies at last. A faint smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “I knew you’d fit right in.”

The gala unfolds exactly as one would imagine for an event of this magnitude. Men in impeccably tailored suits and women in exquisite gowns move around the room, yet it’s not just the guests that capture my attention. It’s also the décor. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, scattering light in a million directions and sending tiny sparkles across the marble floors. Tables are adorned with soft blue linens and crystal glasses brimming with drinks, while carefully arranged hors d’oeuvres invite the guests’ attention. Servers move elegantly, ready to fulfill any wishes of those around them.

I take in the scene, my eyes wandering from one spectacular detail to the next, until a steady hand rests lightly on the small of my back. Immediately, my gaze returns to those familiar icy blue eyes, now strangely comforting in their intensity.

“Everything all right?” Knox asks.

I nod instantly, sliding into the persona I always adopt for events like these. It’s the part of me that masks nerves and projects control, no matter how overwhelming the room or the company might be. “Yes, everything is perfect,” I say, letting a small, polite smile settle on my lips.

His gaze lingers on me a little longer than expected, as if he’s trying to determine whether I genuinely mean what I said. His expression seems calculating momentarily, making my pulse quicken before he finally gives a short, approving nod.