Page 123 of Missile Strike

“Isabella!” Her father reached her. “What happened?”

“Everything’s under control, sir,” Tavari cut in. “You need to return to your seat.”

She couldn’t see Danny. Didn’t know what was going on. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking and her legs threatened to give out.

Admiral Dane materialized next to her father. “You need to take control, Graham. Make your speech.”

Isabella locked her knees and lifted her chin. “I’m fine, Daddy. Go.”

Her father stared at her for a long moment before giving a curt nod.

Noise. Chaos. Guests milled about, their meals forgotten.

“Can I have your attention?” Her father’s voice carried through the microphone at the podium, but it barely registered on the crowd.

Nathan’s baritone boomed throughout the room with the authority of a man accustomed to giving orders. “Everyone. Take your seats.”

Stunned silence.

“We apologize for the interruption. Security has everything under control. Now, I believe the senator has something he’d like to say.”

People moved. Slowly. A steady hum returned of dishes clinking and hushed conversations as her father began his speech.

Isabella stayed by the door, her gaze fixed on it.

Talia leaned in. “Izzy, are you sure you’re all right?”

Isabella glanced at her friend, then frowned at Talia’s pallor. The shallow rise and fall of her breath. “I’m okay, but are you? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I need a drink.”

Taking her friend by the hand, Isabella led her to the head table and pulled out a chair next to her mother. “Sit.” After assuring her mother that she and Talia were fine, she grabbed the remaining bottle of red wine on the table and poured two glasses—one for her and one for Talia.

Talia gulped hers down.

Isabella’s remained untouched.

Why wasn’t Danny back?

Finally, one of the ballroom doors opened. He slipped through, his gaze finding her immediately.

Everyone else in the room faded away.

Applause broke around her, people pushing to their feet.

Maintaining eye contact, she stood, ignoring her mother’s question, Talia’s touch on her arm, and guests’ attempts to congratulate her as she skirted around tables in his direction.

Let people gossip. She didn’t care.

He opened his arms.

The world settled. Became safe again.

His lips brushed hers in a gentle caress. “I’m sorry.”

She drew back in his arms and searched his face. “Why are you apologizing? You saved me.”

“I should never have left you.” His focus shifted to someone over her shoulder. “Thank you.”