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“I’ll meet you at the Lancaster Room.”
“This better be worth it.” And I hang up.
“Warren’s coming to meet us,” I tell Abby when I sit back down. Whatever Warren has to tell me better be life or death type of importance, because Karl Devon just walked in.
And the whole club shifts.
It’s game time.
“Follow my lead,” I whisper in Abby’s ear, taking a split-second to sniff the wild-berry shampoo smell from her hair. God, it’s like a mother fucking aphrodisiac.
I steel my expression, making my way through the crowd toward the big bald man on the other side of the club, with Abby following closely behind with the new old red dress. It makes me wonder why she felt the need to buy a new one. One exactly the same.
Did this dress hold as much importance for her as it did to me?
I hope so.
Warren must have been standing out-fucking-side because he shows up in minutes after we ended the call.
Warren rushes over, standing next to Abby and me. “Whatever you need to talk about has to wait,” I tell Warren, grabbing Abby’s hand in mine.
Which let me say right now, I’ve held her hand before. But right now, it feels so tiny. So delicate. And as I lead her through the club, I almost feel like she’s mine. I have this protective vibe going on deep inside me, and I can’t quite figure out why I’m feeling like this. It’s driving me insane, and when other men look at her I want to rip their fucking heads off.
But it happens. I mean she’s Abby Carmichael. I’m holding Seraphina’s hand, and I need to make sure I get her right in front of Karl Devon. I need to make this happen for her.
“Karl Devon,” I say with a grin. I’ve known Karl Devon for years. To say we’re friends is pushing it. To say we know how to work together to get shit done is more like it. He knows I need him. He knows he has all the power in this room, but he also knows that I control the talent.
And I have a ton of talent on my roster.
So we play nice. We say hello and I introduce him to Abby.
“I’ve seen a few of your movies.” Bonus, now I don’t have to convince this oversized Mr. Clean to watch a few.
“They’re great, aren’t they?” I keep my grin steady, not really expecting an answer. “Let’s get a drink together.”
Karl Devon can very easily tell me to go fuck myself. He knows what I’m up to. He knows I know. And he knows I’m pushing Abby on him.
But the interesting thing about him not telling me to take a hike and never return means he is thinking about using her.
And that lights my eyes up.
Karl Devon gets tables pushed together with a snap of his fingers, and I’m pulling out Abby’s chair in no time. It feels intimate but then, I remember the name of the game tonight and it’s to charm the Versace pants off Karl Devon.
I order a round of cocktails, and while I’m speaking to the waiter, Karl Devon and Abby’s conversation takes off. Seriously, there’s nothing this girl can’t do. I sit back and watch as she charms the fucking pants off this guy.
“Did you like Seraphina, when she was crying about the death of all the people across the world?” She gives him her best Hollywood smile. “Because I felt like that really opened up her character.”
Karl nods. “I’ve been following your career closely.”
Ah, this is good. Very good, but I feel a but coming on.
“But, I wanted to know how you are personally.”
“What do you mean?”
Even I lean in, wanting to know exactly what Karl’s speaking about.
He laughs. “I want to know what you’re like when you’re just being you.”
She straightens in her chair, his question most likely throwing her completely off guard.
And it makes me wonder why.
5
Abby
What am I like? I ponder this question entirely too long before blurting out, “I’m just an average girl.” There really isn’t anything majorly appealing about me.
Karl Devon eyes me for a moment, then laughs. “Oh believe me, there’s nothing average about you.”
I sneak a glance over at Emmett and his eyes eat me up. From head to toe. Like he’s wondering if I’m average or not. And right now, I’m dying to know what he thinks. The whole world could melt away into a fiery inferno, and I would still want to know the answer if he thinks I’m average.
He takes a sip of his drink and then his eyes focus on Warren, waiting in the wings. “Excuse me a moment, I’ll be back in a bit.” He leaves the table and I’m left with Karl Devon.
I’m not nervous in any way, and I guess I should expand on the average thing. “What I meant by being average is I want what all women want, I guess.”
