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The violin’s last strains faded away and the wedding party strolled off the fishbowl of a dance floor. Everyone except Sylvie. She strutted off, her saint-tempting hips swaying. Right toward Tony.
Fuck. His shoulder muscles tightened and something that felt too much like anticipation tugged his spine straighter.
But without even a glance his way, she brushed past him and hightailed it out the French doors and into the garden. Daniel, the ill-fated boyfriend, followed, fury burning in his beady eyes.
Time to nip this in the bud before the gossips really got an eyeful and his clients’ daughter ended up in the tabloids for starting a brawl at the fashion world’s wedding of the year. Or worse, before whoever was behind the escalating threats decided the ensuing commotion of a full-on screaming match would be the perfect opportunity to strike.
Tony stepped forward to block Daniel’s path. “I don’t think so.”
A film of sweat coated the peach fuzz on Daniel’s upper lip. “That’s my girlfriend.”
“She doesn’t look like she wants to talk to you right now.” Tony crossed his arms and dusted off his most intimidating don’t-fuck-with-me cop face, one of the few things he had taken with him when he left the force.
“But—”
“Look, I’m not moving, and if you try to get past me, you’ll end up on your ass. Give the lady some space.”
Anger, dark and intense, flashed across Daniel’s face. Then he smoothed it away with a deep exhale. His gaze zoomed in on the earbud in Tony’s ear. “Fine. I have to go anyway, to let Anton and Henry know the hired help is getting mouthy.”
“Yeah, I’m sure they can’t wait to talk to you,” he shot back at the man’s fast retreating form.
Giving his second-in-command a quick nod, Tony stepped outside into the late-spring evening.
Sylvie stood alone by the ledge with her back to him. Wisps of honey-brown hair had escaped her clips, the strands cascading across her dark olive skin in waves. Her stick-straight spine and pointed chin, daring the world to take its best shot, were gone. Daniel and the gossiping glitterati had sucked the fight right out of her. He hated them for that.
He should let her be, so she could put herself back to rights. Hadn’t he invaded her privacy enough already? But he just couldn’t do
the right thing. Now, wasn’t that the story of his life?
He strode over to her, pocketing the earpiece connecting him with Cam and the rest of the team. That idiot Daniel had spotted it and he couldn’t take the chance Sylvie would, too.
Clearing his throat, he stopped an arm’s length away so he wouldn’t spook her. “Are you going to jump or are you thinking of tossing someone over?”
“Definitely the latter.” She sighed and turned toward him. “I suppose it was too much to hope the world wouldn’t find out about Daniel right away.”
“Probably.”
The tension softened from her face and she tossed back her head, letting loose with a booming laugh. “Groom’s side?”
Tony gulped and looked behind him, searching for a way to answer without lying.
“We haven’t met so I know you’re not the bride’s side. Sorry to throw you.” Smiling, she stuck out her hand. “Sylvie Bissette.”
His hand enveloped hers and he couldn’t take his eyes off her sweet, pink lips. They’d been maddening to watch through binoculars. Up close they offered as many temptations as there were sexual positions. Fighting through the mind-meld that her touch had caused, he let go and shoved his tingling hand into his pocket. “Tony Falcon. Are you doing okay?”
She stared down at her hand dangling in the air between them, a flush climbing her cleavage that rose and fell in a fast rhythm. Before he had a chance to utter another word, she transformed, straightening her spine and plastering on a bland, society-approved smile.
“Thank you for asking. I’m just perfectly peachy. Sure, I just found out I’ve been an unknowing beard for the past two years so my boyfriend could advance at his Wall Street firm. Wall Street types can’t be gay it seems. Who knew?” Her above-it-all façade crumbled. “How could I have missed that? I grew up with two fathers. I know more gay guys than straight. How in the world did I overlook the fact that my boyfriend doesn’t play for my team? God, who else in the world is lying their ass off?”
The earpiece burned a hole in Tony’s pocket and guilt about his own part in this farce squeezed a kidney. “Some people are good at hiding things.”
She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Isn’t that the truth.”
The setting sun outlined her curves, putting a soft glow in her tawny hair, but that wasn’t what got to him. It was the unshed tears watering her green eyes that socked him in the gut.
She swiped the back of her hand across her cheek and looked up at him through her thick lashes. “Sorry. Here I am rambling like an idiot. I promise I’m not a total whacko who spills her guts to every hot guy she meets.” Her eyes widened and her cheeks turned pink, too. “Okay, obviously I’ve lost my internal censor. Ignore that last bit.”
He grinned. “Are you kidding? My ego is going to feed off of that for years. I wouldn’t forget it even if you paid me a million dollars.”
