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“The name’s Dixon.”
“Alesha,” she said, pressing her lips together. She didn’t know if Xavier had given her a different name earlier. Shit.
Nerves got the better of her, the bodice of her dress feeling too tight as she struggled for breath.
Dixon held out his hand, and against her better judgment, she took it, giving his hand a shake.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said.
“No, no, the pleasure is all mine.”
Pulling her hand back, she was aware of his stare. Intense. Focused only on her.
“Have I seen you before?” he asked.
Turning her attention to him, she shook her head. “No. I spend most of my time with Xavier. He likes to keep me close.”
“But will leave you at a time like this.” He tutted.
“I know work will always come first.” Please, Xavier, come and save me.
“How about I entertain you? Come. We’ll enjoy a dance.”
Every single part of her screamed no, but she couldn’t do that. She had to play along and not make waves.
“Sure, what could it hurt?”
I’m going to die a slow and painful death, and it’s going to be all of Xavier’s fault.
I’ll haunt you, Xavier.
Dixon took her hand and she placed her champagne flute on the table as they passed. Within seconds his arms were around her. She put her
hands on his shoulders, hoping she wasn’t fucking this up.
“You’re Xavier’s fiancée?”
“Yes.”
“How long have you been engaged?”
“A year … I think.”
“That’s a long engagement.”
“He likes to keep me waiting.”
“I thought I read in the paper that you’ve been engaged only four months.”
Great!
“That’s when he wanted to tell the press.” She shrugged. “We had a fight, and I guess he felt the only way to make it up to me was to put a ring on my finger.”
I can’t take much more.
Xavier.
She wanted to burst into tears. Her heart pounded against her ribcage. Did this man hear it? Did he sense how scared she was? How nervous? A wave of nausea swept over her.
