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When it’s delivered he passes the champagne to me and takes the club soda for himself, moving us to an empty spot in the shadows.
I drink down some of the cool, bubbly liquid, hoping it might help calm my nerves as Andre pretends to sip at his own drink.
Except I’d be shocked if any of it actually made it down his throat because all his focus is on the room in front of us and the people that fill it.
If I didn’t know him better I would think he was relaxed. Everything about him right now gives off that appearance, from his posture to the casual way he’s holding his glass.
But I can feel his tension, even if I can’t see it.
I glance around the room, looking for any reason Andre might be concerned, outside of the fact that I’m pretty sure we’re completely surrounded by people who do the same sort of things he does.
But while that might cause me to pause, it shouldn’t make Andre bat an eye and wouldn’t explain the slow sweep of his gaze as it moves back and forth across the room, as if he’s waiting for something to happen.
And something does.
“Don’t you look lovely.” A familiar face sweeps our way. Yvonne looks just as stunningly glamorous as she did the last time I saw her, but tonight her curvaceous body is poured into a gown that is significantly more revealing. The night of the auction she was completely covered, and I assumed that was just her style, but the low-cut dress with a slit that goes up to her hip makes me question that assumption.
She immediately pulls me into a hug, pressing my front against the spilling skin of her décolletage. “I am so happy to see you here tonight.” She leans back, holding me at arm’s length as one hand comes to pat my cheek. “It’s about time Andre brought a guest to one of these things.”
I work hard to keep my eyes from moving his way. Andre could easily have a different woman on his arm every night, so part of me assumed he did. Finding out he always comes to whatever this thing is alone takes me a little by surprise.
“Come with me.” Yvonne grips my hand with hers and begins dragging me away.
I glance back at Andre. I don’t want to be away from him. Not here.
And part of me expects him to feel the same, so I’m surprised when he doesn’t budge from his spot, just watches me walk away with a steady gaze.
But I can see his posture is stiffer than it was before. The set of his jaw tighter.
He definitely doesn’t like that I’m being taken away, but for whatever reason he can’t immediately snatch me back.
So I’m stuck following Yvonne through the crowd, doing my best not to bump anyone as we weave through the people crowding the space.
She comes to a stop in front of an older woman sitting at a table surrounded by men at least thirty years her junior. Like Yvonne, she’s impeccably put together, from the graceful sweep of her salt and pepper hair, to the tips of her French manicured fingers. She’s poised perfection.
And intimidating as hell.
“Dagmar, I want you to meet Paisley.” Yvonne reaches up to smooth down one side of my hair. “It would seem Andre Valinov has caught her eye and I noticed she is in desperate need of jewelry.” Her fingers slide over my bare ears.
“Oh I’m fine.” I reach up to clamp my earlobes between my thumb and pointer fingers, like I can hide how empty they are. “My ears aren’t pierced.”
I used to love earrings. When I was a little girl I couldn’t wait to get older and wear the same shoulder-skimming sparkles my mother did.
But one day I found out what people thought of the way my mother looked.
People like Madison’s father.
I realized they didn’t see her red lips and dramatic earrings as glamorous and beautiful.
They saw her for all they decided she was.
A whore. A woman who sold her body for money.
Money she used to take care of me.
That was when I knew I had to find a way to fix it. Make them see what I saw. But the only way to do that was to make sure I didn’t end up falling under the same umbrella.
Or on the same side of that fucking damn coin they all flip.
