Davis pulls up outside the hotel hosting the gala and walks around the car to open the door for us to exit. I climb out first and hold out my hand for Linda as an explosion of cameras go off around us.
“Thank you, Davis. I'll call you when we’re done here.”
He nods and smiles at a nervous-looking Linda before walking back around to the driver's side and sliding in.
Glancing down at Linda, I see her staring up at me, biting on her lower lip, tugging her wrap around her to ward off the chill in the air.
“You ready?” I ask, ignoring the world around us.
“As I'll ever be,” she whispers.
“There you are.” We turn at the sound of Graham's voice and make our way toward him. “Come on, let's go inside. I can't hear myself think out here,” he mutters.
I agree. With the sound of voices yelling for us to pose for pictures and the shutters of camera lenses clicking away, it's too loud to think, let alone talk. Keeping my hand firmly wrapped around Linda’s, I follow Graham inside through the enormous double doors. Once inside the large foyer, the doors close behind us, making the noise disappear almost instantly, replacing it with the quiet chatter of the other guests arriving.
“Let's check your wrap and head on upstairs,” I tell Linda, but she shakes her head.
“I’ll need it to cover my tattoos. I'll stand out like a sore thumb here if I take it off, and I don't want people to judge you for it,” she protests softly.
“Just be yourself, Skittle. To me, you are perfect as you are and I'm proud to have you on my arm,” I say, meaning every word.
“He's right,” Graham adds from beside me. “Fuck what these people think. Who are they to judge?” He turns away to scan the crowd, missing the look of surprise on Skittle's face at his defense on her behalf.
I slip the wrap free from her shoulders and hand it to her.
“Check the wrap,” I repeat quietly, happy when she nods and steps away to the counter just to the left of us to do just that.
“So, Peterson is a no show tonight,” Graham adds quietly when Linda is out of earshot.
“What? Why?” I ask, frustrated.
“I met him earlier today with the photos. He mentioned not being able to attend so he could deal with that unfortunate situation. His words, not mine. However, he has sent his lawyer Gregory in his place, and you know how much I hate that guy.”
Graham hates everyone besides his girls, so I’m not surprised. However, I can agree with him on this. Gregory is a prick.
“But if we put on a good show tonight, he will run straight back to Peterson with a full report.” Graham sighs, knowing he will have to bite his tongue when Gregory is around.
“Talking of a good show, where's Soraya?”
“Her friends threw her a surprise baby shower,” he answers disgustedly, making me laugh.
“Baby showers are the norm from what I can gather, and you’ve been to a dozen of these events without her, so why do you have a face like a slapped ass?”
“Because I wasn’t invited,” he admits just as Linda walks back over.
“Wasn’t invited to what?” she asks, handing me the coat-check ticket.
“The reason Soraya isn’t here tonight is that her friends threw her a surprise baby shower, and Graham here wasn’t invited,” I explain, urging her toward the main room with my hand on the small of her back.
“That sucks. I always feel like the guy is missing out by not being invited to those things, but from what I’ve heard, it's a common occurrence for it just to be females. At least you know it's not your less than sparkling personality that stopped you from getting an invite,” she informs a scowling Graham.
We enter the main room where tonight's event is taking place and see it's almost filled to capacity with men dressed in tuxes like mine and women hanging off their arms dressed in all their finery.
“How the other half lives,” Linda mutters from beside me.
“You are the other half now, Laura, better get used to it. Ah, George, long time no see,” Graham announces before walking over to a portly man with a bad comb-over.
“He’s lucky to have you,” Linda tells me, watching as Graham says something to George that makes the man frown.
“What makes you say that?”
“Because without you, that man wouldn't have a single friend,” she answers.
I throw my head back and laugh, drawing the attention of the people around us, which unfortunately includes Dawn.
“What the fuck?” I spit out as she looks over at me and smiles seductively before scowling at Linda on my arm.
“Who’s that?” Linda questions, following my gaze.
“That would be Dawn. My father's ex-wife and the woman that accosted me in the elevator.”
“Ah, she’s pretty in a blow-up sex doll kind of way,” she teases, making me snort.
She’s not wrong, especially as Dawn is standing there with her red painted lips open in a shocked expression, likely at seeing me here with a date. Wearing red stilettos and a short sequined red dress that is so tight I doubt she can breathe in it, she manages to make Skittle, in all her tattooed glory, look demure.
“She’s really working the scarlet woman theme, and judging from the look on her face, I’m pretty sure she’s attempting to make me disappear with the power of her mind. It takes a lot of skill to earn that much hatred from someone I’ve never laid eyes on before. Quick, let's give her something to really piss her off,” Linda suggests a second before she grips the front of my shirt and tugs me down for a kiss.
As tends to happen when my lips are on hers, I lose all sense of decorum, pulling her hard against my chest, swallowing down her gasp as my tongue slides into her mouth. I don't care who’s here, this woman owns me and if she wants a kiss, then that's what she’ll get.
“I can’t leave you guys alone for a second,” Graham's amused voice comments, making Linda pull back.
“Don’t be jealous, asshat. I’m sure Asher still loves you very much,” she teases him.
“I don't remember you being such a smartass,” he complains.
“Dude, you didn’t even remember my name. I don't know why this surprises you.”
“Don’t take it personally. Secretaries are a dime a dozen.” He waves his hand dismissively.
“And yet this lowly secretary is married to your best friend. Karma sure has a wicked sense of humor.”
“Remember the rule about no bloodshed in public?” I remind them with an amused grin.
Linda pouts. “Fine.”
“Let's find our seats,” I prompt and take Linda’s hand, tugging her over to the circular tables at the far side of the room.
Each table has a large pink and white floral centerpiece circled by little pink name cards embossed with a name next to the fine china plates and long stem wine glasses.
Finding my name, I pull out the chair beside it with Dawn’s name and swipe up the little card that I have no doubt she put there, and walk over to the table farthest from ours and swap it for a plus one card. Graham sits on the opposite side of Linda, laughing at my actions, but I don’t miss the look of relief on Linda’s face or the gratitude in her smile.