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He ran his hand through his hair, mussing up the perfect comb job he’d done to it earlier this evening. He sighed and said into the phone, “We’re staying for now. But be ready.”
I gave him a nod of approval. “Let’s slay this party. But before we go out there, I want to know what someone threw at you.”
“No one threw anything. It was a drone.”
“Like the flying robots that people use to spy on nude beaches?”
He pressed his lips together, clearly not agreeing about the use of flying robots.
“Or to watch their hot neighbors who leave the curtains open,” I said.
“Yes?” He didn’t sound sure. He opened his palm and held out a ball of white paper for me to see. “A flying machine hit me. This was taped to it.”
It was my turn to look at him weirdly.
“Read it.”
I plucked the paper from his hand, unfurled the ball, and saw the line written in scratchy handwriting. “The truth will emerge.”
My stomach dropped.
The truth? Which truth? Did this mean someone knew about Gabriel’s and my arrangement? That they knew we’d pretended to be friends and they were going to call him out on it? One of the reporters had accused him of paying me to date him.
Or worse—what if someone knew what I’d been writing? What if I had a computer virus and someone knew every juicy detail I’d written in my digital journal?
That wasn’t possible. I was blowing this situation out of proportion.
I shoved the paper back at Gabriel. He took it, folded it, and put it in his pocket.
I licked my lips. “What do you think it means?”
“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.”
“Okay.” It’s nothing. It doesn’t matter. It’s a cryptic note from a weirdo, who knew nothing real about either of us. I’d certainly had my share of those, and everything had always been fine. Everything was fine now.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Gabriel asked.
“Peachy.” I linked my arm with his. “I believe we have schmoozing to do. Let’s get out there and crush this gala.”
He opened the bathroom door, and we stepped back out into the hall. The warm museum air greeted me with a faint scent of antiquities. It was like stepping into a fancy thrift store that smelled of old books and polished brass.
“Please don’t crush anyone,” Gabriel said.
“I won’t. Probably.”
Our footsteps echoed off the high ceiling and the swirly marble floor as we took our last few steps before reaching whatever circumstances constituted a gala.
I said, “I’ll only crush them if they deserve it.”
He looked down at me, his chocolate eyes dancing, like he thought I was the most amusing thing he’d ever seen. And that adorable little dimple formed in his cheek. It was the only thing about him I would dare to describe as cute, and it was so rare and fleeting, I made surenotto mention its appearance.
We stepped into the main exhibit hall. It was a large open space, buzzing with fancy looking people in fancy clothes. Any one of their dresses or tuxes was probably worth more money than I’d ever seen in my life.
I didn’t belong here. I was an imposter parading around in a fancy dress I couldn’t have afforded without the ridiculous sums of cash Gabriel had given me.
As glazes flicked to us, I felt Gabriel tensing, too.
He didn’t belong here, either, but for entirely different reasons.
