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The sudden comprehension has me rubbing one side of the beard next to my renewed smile. So that’s the deal behind the slick putz and his nettles for Kara. He’s not piqued at her. He’safraidof her.
As he probably should be.
Thankfully, it doesn’t seem to be fresh news for my regal, graceful woman. She’s exhilarating but agonizing to watch. I can’t lend any support outside of just standing here, and it makes me twitch. This carpet isn’t my classroom. I can’t order Gentry away on the simple basis that his ego might blow the top of his head off any second.
“You say you need some stickers, Mr. Gentry?” From one end of the query to the next, her voice changes from stiff silk into hammered leather. “Because I’d be happy to customize a few for you alone.” The words are further molded by her snarl and polished by the kilns in her eyes.
Despite the dramatic delivery, I doubt anyone but Gentry and I are aware of it all. Even the closest production assistants see nothing but her wide, charming smile and her intense attention to Gentry.
“That won’t be necessary.”
But unless Gentry has a solid grasp of ventriloquy, the objection isn’t his. His lips aren’t moving by the barest of millimeters. His voice, while as smooth as pretentiousness can guarantee, was never as confident as this. Never so low that even a gender identifier has been stricken as a clue.
Then who the hell…
“Go on. Tell him, Kara. Take it back, darling.Now.”
As soon as I figure it out, I wheel around and brace my stance. But not fast enough. Veronica’s already here, holding her daughter in place from behind. The only thing that shakes her talons is Kara’s violent gulp, vibrating along her collarbone.
But once more, nobody but Gentry and I seem to see the friction. Weird? I’ll concede as much. But enough to call out in front of a hundred camera lenses, when I’m the guy hiding Olympian DNA and a glowing infant in my fiancée’s stomach? Not going to happen, especially when my woman is forced into playing nice with Gentry.
Forcedbeing one of the most sickening understatements of my life.
A second later,sickeningjoining that list.
Does Veronica care that she’s tearing her daughter’s skin? That she’s marring her own offspring in the name of making nice with a “close family friend”?
But right now, there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. If I so much as cross my eyes wrong at him, I’ll be branded an even bigger outsider. The stalker overprotector instead of the gallant fiancé. If I’m guessing right, Gentry’s probably saved a few new nicknames for the purpose.
Professor Prick.
Kane the Insane.
Mad Maximus.
“Yeah, okay, asshole. You win…this time.”
I grit it out for my ears alone—or so I think. It’s too late for remembering I’ve fallen in love with a wildly gifted empath who’s also learned how to levitate things. It’s also too late to predict what would happen if she funneled both gifts on me.
Much, much too late. Because it’s happening before I can think about it. Or do anything about it.
As in, struggling to keep my balance as my whole form is lifted up by a good two inches. Then working to act like it’s totally normal that I’m being pulled backward, between a break in the curtains that line the back of the carpet walk. By the time a couple of seconds have passed and I can breathe again, I look around in time to watch Kara flinging similar powers to gain significant distance from her mother.
“Uhhh.”
It’s the only sound my throat can take back from my shocked senses, erupting in time with my pedaling feet—which are still two feet in the air and grappling at mostly air. At best, my purchase on the ground is limited to fleeting toe taps.
I finally make it back to the curtain and am able to steal a few glances between the velvet panels. I see enough to determine that the crowd is eating up the spectacle like a vegan ice cream sundae. Thanks to the puckish tilt on Kara’s lips, everyone thinks her rebellious little act, presumably to get me alone, is an elaborate effects stunt. Even Ellery Gentry is applauding the plot twist, especially as Kara floats herself to the same curtain partition she sent me through.
Unbelievably, my woman has turned around every scowl in the crowd—except the obvious one. There’s no way I’mnotnoticing it, particularly since Veronica doubles down on the anger once her daughter’s intention is clear.
“Kara!” The seethe doubles once she rushes offstage as well. “What do you think you’re doing?”
As Kara whirls, the thick layers of her dress billow and sweep. The effect is graceful enough for an animated princess film, though no way is my woman committing to the cause.
“What do you thinkyou’redoing?”
Veronica hardly alters her raging gape. “Whatis going on? How…are you…doing th—”
