“Damn, babe, you’re breath-taking.” He grabs my hand, placing a chaste kiss on the knuckles. “You ready to go, Princess Kate? You can’t argue that nickname tonight because you look even better than she does. End of.” He waves his hand through the air to signify the princess title he’s bestowed on me isn’t up for discussion.
I can feel my cheeks growing rosy. “I am ready to go, finally. Sorry it took so long, but good things come to those who wait. Especially when it comes to fashion. And you don’t look so bad yourself, Tiger.”
He never looks bad. Every day he looks like he just stepped out of GQ or something. It’s actually quite sickening. All those handsome as sin looks, but he still doesn’t make my stomach drop; he still doesn’t take my breath away, not in the way he who shall not be named did.
When I climb into the limo, I find two glasses of champagne waiting on us. I’m so nervous—both at the fact this is kind of a big night for our relationship, and because it’s incredibly stupid to put myself at risk of being seen—that I’m probably going to need three glasses of Pierce’s drink of choice, plus a few shots of the good stuff, before we even arrive.
Wonderful impression to make.
Just as the limo begins to move, Pierce picks up one of the flutes and offers the other to me.
“Thanks,” I graciously accept.
“Thank you,” he replies in turn, smiling at me cheekily.
I scoff. “For what?”
“Everything. Your friendship. Your time. For being my date tonight. You’re amazing. I’m so glad I met you.” He raises his glass in the air close to mine. “To a fun evening filled with unforgettable moments.”
“Are charity events fun?” I ask.
“Anything is more enjoyable when you’re there.” He smirks.
I grin back at him, totally cheesing under his appraisal. “To a fun evening and unforgettable moments.”
Our flutes clink together in a toast.
Fifteen minutes and two glasses later, we arrive at our destination. I close my eyes for all of two seconds and whisper up a silent prayer everything goes okay tonight. When I open my eyes, my phone beeps. I snatch it out just as we’re pulling around the front to be dropped off. It’s a message from Mom. Who else would it be besides Pierce or Carol?
Mom: Please, stay at home tonight. Urgent. Talk to you about it later.
Of course, I lie because it’s not like I can tell Pierce I’ve suddenly changed my mind. That would be weird and rude as hell.
Me: Um, Okay. Be safe. Love you.
It’s always difficult to tell with her if there’s actually a serious matter at hand, or if she’s just had a “bad feeling.” And when we’re talking about my mother, well, she has “bad feelings about something” ten times to one in comparison to the times there actually is a real problem or emergency. Her instincts and intuition are like the boy who cried wolf.
As Pierce opens the door for me and holds out his hand, I power my phone down and slip it inside my clutch before climbing out of the vehicle.
Just another day in the life.
Arm in arm, we ascend the steps, passing through a fancy lobby with white marble floors branded with the hotel’s gold-hued insignia with a black outline, H&W Suites.
“I wonder if the same people who own my apartment complex also own this hotel,” I muse aloud, staring extra hard at the initials as we pass over them. Pierce’s hand tightens a little and he clears his throat.
“Perceptive. It certainly seems a possibility, doesn’t it?” He fights back a smile as he continues to lead me toward the back wall. We pause to press the elevator’s call button—which I note with apt fascination, is unlike any I’ve seen in my life. Instead of the standard brushed metal of most elevators, this one is a muted gold that goes with the hotel logo. The panel on the wall matches perfectly. Usually, I’d think gold is gaudy and emulates more of the 80's era than being fashionable now, but the way it’s used here hints at tasteful extravagance. I like it, but it makes me feel a little out of my element.
I shift from one foot to the other, growing suddenly antsy as I question my place. I’m not going to fit in with the crowd. I’m far too young, an unknown amongst a sea of what I can only assume will be people who are well-established and older. Pierce notices my change in mood immediately.
“What’s wrong?” his eyebrow rises, eyes penetrating mine and forcing me to hold his gaze.
I sigh. “I don’t fit in. These people are going to look at me like I’m a gold-digger just because they’ve never heard of me, then they’re going to eat me alive.” My stomach flips, making me feel like retching all over the pretty white marble.
Ping. The doors begin to slide apart.
“Fuck what they think. They won’t mess with you. I promise. I can’t control the stares you might get, but that’ll be from pure jealousy. You look stunning. But you’re right. You aren’t going to fit in with them.” He pulls me against his chest after we step inside, and the doors close behind us. I frown, his words only making me that much more insecure. He reaches down, lifting my chin until our eyes meet. “You’re in a league all your own. They can’t even come close,” he declares before lowering his lips to my forehead sweetly. My heart flutters in response, all notions of self-doubt evaporating into nothing.
We ride a few floors up, and the doors open to a completely blocked off area that requires proof of invitation. A man dressed in a tuxedo stands just outside the elevator doors, studying the tablet in his hand intently and refusing anyone who tries to enter without the paper invite. Even after seeing the invite, he also checks for their name on a list. Several people in front of us produce their invitation for verification, but Pierce doesn’t even need to.
“Good to see you, Mr. Wilder,” the door attendant nods his head at Pierce in greeting. Pierce tips his head back, smiling as we pass through.
Who is this guy? He gets a free pass everywhere we go like everyone knows him. I’ve Googled him before, but all I got was a bunch of articles about him being involved in donations to various charitable causes and something of him being a local businessman. And when I asked about what he does specifically, he doesn’t want to talk about it.
The first thing I notice when we reach the ballroom, is how freaking huge the area is. It’s almost like the entire floor is comprised of this one expansive space for social activities such as this. They call it a “charity event,” but all it really is, is an excuse for the wealthy and elite to get all dressed up and compete for attention.
Who’s Who: Adult Edition. Who can spend the most money? Who is best dressed? Who can win at the auction? Who can mingle with the most people? Who are Mr. and Mrs. Popularity?
Pierce astounds me when he does the opposite of everyone else. Sure, he mingles a little here and there, saying a brief hello, maybe asking how someone’s family is. Other than that, he’s completely attentive to me and my needs and takes the time to introduce me to EVERYONE he speaks to. Always attempting to make sure I feel at ease.
He treats me like I’m his someone, showing me off, but in a respectful manner. I never once feel at all like I’m his trophy, and it feels foreign. The whole time I was with Gray, we hid our relationship. We knew the repercussions of being caught, and in a sense, I was unsurprised when fate finally did catch up to us.
But what Gray and I had, it was ours. Only ours. A little slice of heaven in a big fucked up world that only wanted to chew us up and spit us out, and then do it over and over and over again. I’m not sure I like it, this open affection. It feels like I’m the main character in a mediocre sitcom.
“Pierce,” I hear a man call out as we slowly make our way around the room.
Pierce slows, glancing down at me warmly. “Come on.” Arm in arm he escorts me to a small group of people. “I want you to meet someone.”
Reaching down to grip the fabric of my dress, I lift it until my ankles are revealed, allowing room to move more freely. It’s nearly impossible to keep up with his long legs. �
�More people? My head is going to explode trying to memorize all these new names and faces.”
A low rumble of laughter erupts from his chest. “Believe me, I understand completely. I take notes just so I can keep up with it all.”
My curiosity is piqued upon hearing something new to me. Pierce might be my friend, but there’s still so much we don’t know about one another. “What kind of notes?”
“Anything to make people feel more at ease with me. How many grandkids they have, pet names, what hobbies they have, and,” he hesitates for a few beats, lowering his voice when he continues, “I also catalog all the bad things I hear too; things that might affect business dealings in a negative way or that I can use to be persuasive—to put the ball in my court, if you will.” His face morphs with concern as he admits the last bit to me.
He’s worried I’ll perceive him as a selfish, shallow person. All I see when I look at him is a handsome, cunning, and career-driven man who does what he needs to in order to further himself. A reassuring smile stretches across my face, causing his expression to ease. “You’re a smart man, Pierce Wilder. A good one too.”
His eyes soften as they burn into mine, and he begins to say something but stops when a bleach blonde woman in a tight red dress squeals, closing the last few steps between us and the group we’re approaching. “Pierce! This is the most refreshing event I’ve been to this year. I’m actually enjoying myself,” her honeyed voice exclaims overeagerly.
“Miranda,” he greets with a nod, completely ignoring the way her gaze drags over him slowly from head to toe, lingering on his crotch in an obvious and blatantly inappropriate way. I narrow my eyes at her. He might not be my boyfriend, but he is my date for the night. “Glad you’re enjoying yourself.” With a clipped smile he side-steps her, making his way to the rest of the group.
I unhook my arm from his, sliding it down his side until I can entwine our fingers. He smirks down at me, seemingly pleased I’m staking some sort of claim on him. He greets everyone in the group, then turns to a man who appears to be in his mid-thirties but is striking nonetheless. His long blonde hair is pulled back into a tidy man-bun, completely going against the whole suit and tie ensemble he’s wearing. “Kate, this is my business partner, Emerson Hurst.”
The Norse-God turned surfer sticks out his hand and I have to tilt my head way back just to meet his eyes. “Pleasure to meet you,” I declare, allowing his giant paw to completely engulf mine as he shakes it.
His emerald eyes twinkle mischievously when he grins at Pierce. “Oh, Sweetheart, believe me, the pleasure is all mine.” He yanks me into a hug, causing me to tense from the suddenness of it. “I’m stealing her. You can have my date. Miranda would probably prefer you anyway; says I don’t pay enough attention to her. Maybe if she’d stop eye-fucking my business partner I’d find her more interesting.”
I hear Pierce chuckle from behind me. “I’m not suffering from your lack of judgment. You got yourself into that mess, you’ll have to get yourself out. Now give me back my girl.”
“Fine.” Emerson sighs in faux-exasperation, finally releasing me. Just as I start to step away he adds, “but if you ever want to take a walk on the wild side, Kate, I’m your guy.” He slaps his big hand over his chest, reminding me of a Frat boy.
I grin at the giant teddy-bear masquerading as a monster, instantly liking his playful personality. “I’ll keep that in mind.” I laugh as Pierce’s arm snakes around my waist, drawing me closer to him.
“So, Kate is it?” Miranda’s falsetto voice chirps as she comes up behind us. “I don’t think I know you. What family are you from?” She eyes me suspiciously, sizing me up like I’m white trash. If I could only state the truth, she’d be reeling to find out I’m a Malone. Too damn bad I can’t admit it.
“I’m not from Baltimore. You wouldn’t know my family.” I give her a polite smile, hoping she’ll drop the subject.
She lowers her chin, her eyes shooting lasers into mine. “Oh, I know every family worth knowing. Try me.”
Fuck. I’ll have to say I’m a Knightley, and she’ll keep up with question after question.
“Don’t worry about where she’s from.” Pierce’s tone is like a razor being held at the jugular, threatening and deadly, daring her to continue her harassment. “It’s none of your concern. She’s here with me.” He places a kiss on my forehead.
Satisfaction thrives at the way Miranda’s eyes widen in both fear and jealousy. “Just trying to get to know her,” she pouts, pursing her over-injected lips, purposefully arching her back until her overtly large implants are on the verge of spilling over. She backs away until she reaches Emerson, lifting his arm around her shoulders in such a way that mirrors how Pierce's arm is wrapped around me. Neither of the two men even acknowledge her and I don’t know whether to laugh at the obvious desperation for affection or to feel sorry.
As Pierce and Emerson begin talking business, she continues to eye me up and down in a cat-like way.
“Is that an Elie Saab?” she asks, glaring at my dress.
I smirk back at her. “It is. I’m surprised you recognize the name.” I allow my eyes to slide speculatively down her slutty dress. “I wouldn’t have guessed you learned about actual designers, graduating from the A.S.E. and all.”
Her forehead wrinkles in confusion. “What’s A.S.E.?” she asks, her falsetto voice grating at my nerves.
“The Academy of Strippers and Escorts. I admire your braveness in wearing something so risqué to a charity event raising money for sick children though. It was a brazen move.” I throw her a sugary smile and teasing wink, and although Pierce isn’t saying anything, I know he heard the exchange from the way his body is shaking in silent laughter. The phrase if looks could kill comes to mind at the ferocious glare Miranda gives me.
Seconds later, Pierce states to everyone around, “I hope everyone enjoys their evening. I’m sure we’ll speak again before the night is through. See you around, Son.” He nods at Emerson.
“See you around, Dad,” Emerson answers with a cheeky grin.
“Son?” I ask as we retreat, heading away from the crowd.
His lips curl up. “Yeah. Son is short for Emerson. He calls me Dad because, even though he’s several years older, I’m always scolding him for how damn reckless he is.”
I giggle at his explanation, so carefree and silly in comparison to the man who’s usually so focused.
“I wouldn’t be laughing if I were you. You seem to have made an enemy right off the bat.”
I cringe at the thought I’ve brought the hammer down on my own head. Knowing Miranda, she’ll be trying to dig up information on me now.
“Most people aren’t forgiving when you decide to out them for attending ASE.” His face and his delivery are dead serious, puzzling the shit out of me. After a few moments of confusion, my stoic look melts into amusement.
“I just said that off the top of my head. I forgot about it,” I confess. We both burst out in laughter, so hard that moisture leaks from my eyes.
Music begins to filter through the room, and I look over the area, landing on a stage off in the corner. A DJ is set up along with a live band, giving the attendees the best of both worlds. Pierce, seeming to track where my attention has gone, leads me out onto the dance floor.
“I know my girl loves to dance,” he muses.
My head shakes desperately as I dig in my heels. “Not here,” I whisper-shout. “Not where all these judgmental people can Mambo and Fox-trot and Tango.”
“Psh. Dancing is all about letting the male lead, and if I’m leading, no one would dare to judge.”
My stomach flip-flops as I remain glued to the spot.
“You’re going,” he commands, but when he realizes how nervous I am, his eyes soften. “I have an idea.” He jogs away, heading toward the DJ. I can see his mouth moving but he’s too far away to hear. The DJ nods and Pierce makes his way back over to me. The band wraps up the upbeat, jazzy tune they’re playing as the DJ sets
up whatever Pierce has requested.
Gimme More by Britney Spears begins blaring through the speakers moments later and Pierce grips my hand again, pulling me into the middle of the dance floor despite my protests. “Oh my God,” I shout. “You’re crazy! This isn’t Charity appropriate.”
He shrugs. “Yeah, but I know from experience you love dancing to this song.” He wags his eyebrows suggestively, pulling me close to him as I lose myself to the naughty beat of the song.
~XoXo~
After an hour of mingling and enjoying the music provided by both the DJ and the live band, everyone heads to their seats. I’m relieved because even though Pierce has done nothing but socialize since we arrived, he still only spoke with half the people in attendance. Apparently, he knows everyone. Pierce leads me to a pair of place settings labeled P. Wilder. After everyone has taken our assigned spots, the wait staff comes around to take drink orders and tell us about the menu for the night. There are only three choices in each category, but whoever planned the event has thought everything out so thoroughly, there’s something for every palate. I opt for the Halibut as my main course and follow Pierce’s lead for the rest.
I’m silent as we eat, save for the few comments I make here and there in response to questions directed at me. Every time I answer, Pierce interjects to really fluff up my response. I don’t know whether to be annoyed that he’s trying to make me seem better than I really am—so that he’s not embarrassed, perhaps?—or whether to be grateful that he’s making me sound like some sort of saint.
I volunteer at a library…but he makes it sound as if I’m saving the world one book at a time. Encouraging children to read. Keeping the special collections well cared for as if the library would crumble without my being there, and I’m doing them a huge favor.
Love on the Rise: Book Two of The Against All Odds Series Page 12