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Megan stole a look at her date while the flashes made her eyes buggy. Turned out, he was looking at her. And the admiration he’d held in his eyes ever since she’d met him in her lobby made all the strain of the last few days worth it. Now he took the hand he hadn’t yet relinquished and kissed it before backing up so the cameras could take her picture alone. They hadn’t scripted this, but Megan struck her pose anyway—the kids wouldn’t want her to let down the team—and gave her biggest, brightest, most carefree smile.
And the more the cameras clicked, the more she looked around and popped her hip, the more Alessandro gave her that proud smile, the more natural it began to seem. Megan loved pretty clothes, and these people wanted to see them. By allowing the public into her life, she got to show off what made her happy and help others at the same time. Where was the downside?
She laughed all of a sudden, and Alessandro came back to her side. “Together!” someone shouted.
“Yep,” he said, then looked at her. “You okay?”
“I’m grand.” She smiled and put a hand on his chest. His tuxedo was so finely made, it almost had no texture. She laughed again and he laughed back at her, though his brow furrowed in confusion.
“Let’s go make lots of money,” she said so only he could hear, and they walked the line into the hotel.
One face in the crowd in the lobby stuck out to her. Her annoying, wonderful brother, looking front-page ready in his custom tux. She hugged him, and he stood her at arm’s length to inspect her. “At least one sister gets my sense of style.” He grinned. “You look good, Megs.”
“You’re not so bad yourself,” she said. “You wanna meet Cat’s nemesis?”
“Happy to.” Kane shook hands with Alessandro. “Good to meet you.”
“And you. I hear you were personally responsible for a quarter of our tickets selling out within twenty-four hours.”
“That’s an exaggeration,” Kane said. “But let me introduce you to a few of my friends.”
“Megan!” one of the students called from behind her. Megan turned around and was called to admire all the outfits of the group who’d huddled near the hallway. They took photos of her and each other, and she worked with them to make sure all the hashtags were included as they uploaded them. When she looked around her again, Alessandro and Kane had disappeared and an usher was shooing them out of the hotel lobby and into the banquet hall.
Ellen was waiting for them in a stunning black-and-white ombre sleeveless gown, her blond hair around her shoulders shot through with silver jewels. Megan went through a long round of introductions before a man in waiter clothes whispered in Ellen’s ear and pulled her away. The students melted into the crowd, and Megan was alone.
Usually, she was the one making sure everyone was having a good time. At Fielding events, Kane was the star and she was the one in the waiter outfit—well, not quite, but at least something unobtrusive. She’d already lost count of the number of photos people had taken of her tonight. She giggled to herself at her “transgression.” But boy, did she love this dress. Why shouldn’t she show it off?
Etta appeared out of nowhere in a shiny black jumpsuit and braids gathered up in a half pony, showing off the most palatial earrings Megan had ever seen. Susie was similarly glamorous, and Megan’s heart swelled. These women, of anyone in the room, deserved a night to be the stars.
Megan perused the auction items and bid on a few. Kane’s influence was here, too, but Megan observed with pride the display of dresses from her favorite boutique—not that she had a favorite boutique in Boston; that would be like choosing her favorite niece or nephew. But this one, like the others she’d asked this week, had donated or lent all the clothes the students were wearing, and for that they deserved all the hashtags in the world.
The grand prizes, however, were Alessandro’s props. A traditional drum he’d played inThe Drummer. A pair of boots he’d worn in his second movie, with the soles signed by him and his co-star. Even the mug he’d used in one scene already had a list of names and bids on its sheet.
As the evening went on and the guests sat down to dinner, Megan found herself in the unique position of not doing the talking. Everyone was having a perfectly good time without her having to chivvy them along or cheer them up. She kept a small smile on her face, in case anyone looked at her, but after the first flurry of photographs, no one did. The students were divided up among the tables, and they made corporate CEOs sit back in their seats, gripped by their stories. The students did more to advertise the Studio than any social media post Megan could create.
She barely glimpsed Alessandro, who was in crowds of women and men, chatting in a way that would do serious damage to his brooding reputation. She loved this side of him: this enthusiasm, this need to give back, this determination never to forget who had helped him get where he now was. If her job tonight was to sit back and let him do his thing, then she was satisfied.
But then he got up on the stage, and Megan suddenly found herself extremelyunsatisfied. He’d taken off his tux jacket and rolled up his sleeves and, holy Italian hell, had she been a forearm woman before? Because she sure the hell was now. His tux was a midnight blue that brought out his eyes, but now his white shirt against his olive skin and dark beard drew everyone’s eyes to him. And made Megan recollect their last private kiss, stolen in that car before the more photogenic one they offered the cameras. God, what would she give to mess him up right now.
“If I could have everyone’s attention,” he began, and the music that had been playing in the background stilled. “We are going to do a few introductions, then you will have fifteen more minutes before the bidding closes.”
There was a flurry as people found seats. Kane flopped into a seat next to her. “Hey,” he said.
“Hey. Did you eat?”
“Doesn’t matter. I got into a bidding war with Joaquin Turner on that TV.”
“Kane,” she hissed. “You have three TVs.”
“I know.” He grinned. “I’m going to give it to the Studio.”
She shook her head. “You big softy.”
“Isn’t that why we’re here?”
“Yeah, yeah.” She leaned so they could touch heads. “Thanks, Kane.”
She didn’t just mean the fundraiser.
