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Ansel's arms were wrapped around me, his hands landing perfectly at the small of my back.
"Are- Are you alright?" His warm brown eyes stared down at me. "I knew the champagne was imported, but I didn't know it was that potent." He smirked in an innocently charming way.
"Oh, No. I just- uh, tripped." I lied, my cheeks acting like their own lie detector, buzzing bright red. "I'm Averill-"
Shit. That wasn't the name I was supposed to use.
Panic crawled up my throat like yesterday's takeout and a wave of fear washed over me as I scrambled to do damage control. "I- uh- this is Kylo." I blurted out the words like I didn’t have a fucking filter.
Kylo rushed over to me as Ansel helped me to my feet.
"Kylo, Averill, it's a pleasure," Ansel said, his voice as smooth as the aged scotch I imagined was swirling in half the glasses there. He extended a hand to Kylo first, respecting the bro code or whatever the hell you wanted to call it. "Your wife is absolutely stunning."
I stifled a snort and watched Kylo’s face turn a shade that wasn't featured on any of the overpriced suits we'd sifted through earlier. I couldn't tell if it was shock that I'd gone completely off the script that he'd just spent hours hammering into my pretty little head, or at the simple mistake. "She's not— We're just work friends," he corrected and shot me a look that screamed 'help'.
I don't know why, but something about the way that he was so quick to correct in public, but blow my back out in private left a sour taste in my mouth.
"Of course, my apologies." Ansel turned his magnetic gaze on me. His eyes held the kind of heat that felt familiar, a shade so deep I could feel myself teetering on the edge ready to dive in. "Well, in that case, Averill, may I have this dance?" He flashed a smile that matched his charm. "It's the only reward fit for saving a damsel as beautiful as yourself, is it not?"
"Sure," I breathed out and almost forgot to play it cool.
Almost.
Kylo cleared his throat, an awkward sound that was music to my ears. "She'd love to."
Ansel offered his hand, and I placed mine in his, feeling the roughness of his palm against my own. It was a working man's hand, a detail that didn't fit the suit, his trust fund, or the surroundings but somehow made him all the more attractive.
I hesitantly stepped onto the dance floor and the chaotic room faded away until it was just Ansel and I. I felt the pressure of his hand on my lower back, gently guiding me in a rhythm that felt both unfamiliar and strangely natural. My body tensed with desire, but my mind couldn't help but question if I belonged there, swaying to this ancient beat.
"Are you enjoying the evening?" Ansel asked, his voice low and intimate.
"More now," I admitted, because fuck it, I was only human, and he smelled like sandalwood and something distinctly masculine that I couldn't put my finger on but definitely wanted to get closer to.
"Good," he said, and there was a sincerity to his smile that I wasn't used to. "I'm glad I can contribute to your night."
My gaze flickered past his shoulder, where Kylo stood with his arms crossed. Jealousy looked good on him; it brought out the fire in his eyes, made them darker, more intense. It was a look that said he thought he had some claim to me, which was bullshit, but the possessiveness of it all made my insides clench in the most delicious ways.
"Seems like he doesn't think so," Ansel observed, following my line of sight.
"He can go suck a lemon," I said through a playful smirk, but the tightness in my chest said I cared more than I let on.
"Something tells me lemons probably aren't his favorite flavor."
"Guess he’ll just have to pucker up and deal with it," I settled into my groove with Ansel, both our steps and our back-and-forth.
"Careful, Averill," Ansel whispered and his lips hovered near my ear. "You might just give me the impression you enjoy making men jealous."
"Who says I don’t?" I retorted, but my breath caught when his thumb brushed against the side of my ribcage, a stroke that was surely innocent but felt anything but.
For a moment, I forgot about the mission, about Kylo, about everything except the man who danced with me like we were the only two people in the world.
"Can you excuse me?" I removed myself from Ansel's grasp.
His brow furrowed slightly in concern, or maybe it was disappointment—hard to tell with the lighting in there.
“Is everything alright?" he asked, voice laced with something that sounded suspiciously like genuine worry.
"Fine, I just need to... powder my nose," I said with a fake smile and turned toward the restrooms, which were probably fancier than my entire apartment.
