Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 36890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 184(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 184(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
She sidled around the table to grab a half-empty tray of fig, pecan, and brie bites. “So much for faking it until you make it.”
Her muttered reminder of the pep talk she’d given me while I was getting ready for the party had me straightening my spine. “Did you spot him?”
“Mr. TDH who’s staring at you as though he’s never seen a more gorgeous woman in his entire life?”
It wasn’t difficult for me to decipher what she meant since tall, dark, and handsome was spot-on for the man getting closer by the second. I’d been trying to steady my nerves when I first noticed him.
In a sea of polished collectors and high-powered art insiders, he stood out in the crowd. His tall, athletic frame moved with an ease that suggested both confidence and mystery. His light gray eyes, cool and perceptive, scanned the room, and when his gaze briefly met mine, I felt a magnetic pull that left me momentarily breathless. His brown hair was long enough to brush the collar of his bespoke tuxedo, and my fingers itched to brush back the lock that fell onto his forehead before they stroked his dark beard.
With his chiseled features and debonair aura, he caught the attention of nearly every woman he passed as he crossed the room. But he didn’t seem to notice any of them. “There is zero chance he noticed me like that when we’re surrounded by beautiful women who actually fit in with this crowd. He’s definitely coming over here because he knows I don’t belong.”
“You’re not giving yourself enough credit.” Melanie snorted. “You should’ve spent more time looking in the mirror after you got ready because that dress does all the right things for your curves.”
She didn’t give me the chance to respond before walking away, leaving me to face Mr. TDH by myself.
My heart pounded erratically as I watched him approach, each step deliberate, his gaze fixed with an intensity that made me feel exposed. I had never experienced anything like this before, but there was no controlling my reaction to him. And it only intensified when he greeted me in a smooth, velvety tone that sent a shiver down my spine. “Bonsoir, chéri. I’m Aston Couillens. And you are?”
The alluring lilt of his French accent made every word he uttered sound like an invitation to something sensual. One I was very tempted to accept even though I had virtually no experience with men. Which left me uncertain if he’d come over here because he’d been drawn to me like Melanie suggested…or he was going to have me tossed out of the gala for crashing it.
With his intense gaze locked on mine, I had no choice but to answer and find out. “Kerrigan Vale.”
It wasn’t until he reached for my hand to brush a kiss against my knuckles that his name registered in my brain. I’d heard whispers about him at work. Rumors of a man who walked a fine line between high society and hidden dealings. One who was supposedly connected to the darker corridors of the art world. Yet no one seemed to know exactly where that speculation originated from when the art museum and gallery he ran both had impeccable reputations.
I barely had time to process my thoughts before Aston flashed me a panty-melting smile and asked, “Would you care to dance?”
For a fleeting moment, the noisy ballroom faded into the background, leaving the two of us in a bubble where nobody else existed. “I’d love to.”
I tried to sound confident despite the flutter in my stomach, but the knowing gleam in his eyes left me feeling as though I didn’t succeed. My cheeks heated as he used his hold on my hand to tug me toward an open space near a quieter corner of the room, away from the chatter of affluent patrons and clinking champagne glasses.
As we swayed to the soft background music—a melody that seemed to belong solely to us—I couldn’t help but steal glances at Aston. He was so much bigger than me but moved gracefully. We somehow fit together perfectly, as though we’d been made to dance with each other just like this. I wondered if our bodies would mold so flawlessly in other activities.
Gathering my courage, I broke the delicate intimacy that our silent dance had woven around us. “Are you here to bid on one of the auction items on behalf of Vellum & Vine?”
Moving slightly back, he bent his head to look down at me with a quirked brow and a seductive curve to his lips. “You’ve heard of me?”
His deep voice sent a feminine thrill of awareness down my spine, and my cheeks heated. “Atlanta’s art scene might have grown large enough to gain international attention, but it’s still a small world.”
“And one you’re obviously a part of,” he countered.