"You okay Cade?"
No, I’ll never be okay. Not since I realized how I feel about you.
"Cade?" She rubs her palm over my chest. "Do you want to sit down?"
I place my hand over hers and hold it against my heart.
"I’m good."
She looks into my eyes, then nods. "Okay."
"Okay." I draw in a breath. "Shall we do this?"
41
Abby
He holds out his hand. Am I actually going to do this? Am I going to pretend to be engaged to him in a bid to help him rescue his public image? It’s for my safety, too, right? Surely, once I’m off the market and about to be married, my stalker will lose interest in me. It’s the right thing to do; it is. I glance up into his face, and he half-smiles. "Trust me."
Shockingly, I do. Maybe, a part of me always knew it would come to this. After all, my entire life has led up to this moment, when I’d finally be with my soulmate. So what, if it’s all a farce? At least, I can pretend for a little while that it’s all real. Get a taste of how it feels to be at the center of his attention, to have his focus solely on me. Bask in his affection and tenderness. Be the cynosure of his concentration.
I place my palm in his, and the tension seems to fade from his shoulders. Was he that unsure about me? Did he think I’d refuse him so late in the game? To be honest, the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. What does that say about me? Am I that pathetic that I’ll settle for any scraps of attention I can get from him? Even when they don’t reflect reality? I try to pull my hand from his, but he tightens his hold. He holds my gaze, looks between my eyes, then mutters, "Relax. It’s going to be fine."
Only then, do I realize my lungs are burning. I try to draw a breath, fail, and a trembling grips me.
“Shh.” He pulls me into his chest, tucks my head under his chin, wraps his massive arms about me, and envelops me in that edgy scent laced with cardamom and mint that’s so very Cade.
“I’ve got you, I promise," his voice rumbles up his chest.
I bury my nose in the strip of skin bared by the lapels of his shirt and breathe in deeply. The feel of his hard planes against my breasts, the weight of his hands on my back as he rubs circles, the silken-feel of his pants against my legs exposed by my knee-length dress—all of it grounds me. I draw from his strength, take another breath, and my lungs inflate. The trembling slowly subsides, but he doesn’t let go of me. He holds me close and doesn’t take—he just gives—for the very first time. He shares himself with me. We stay there for a few more seconds, until the door to the room flies open.
"You guys ready?" A woman’s voice interrupts us.
I try to pull away, and he releases me, only to notch his knuckles under my chin, so I have no choice but to raise my gaze to his.
"Better?" He surveys my features with his mis-matched gaze, and a different kind of trembling starts deep inside. Gosh, I’ll never be able to look at him without getting aroused. Never.
He must read something in my features that satisfies him, for he nods. He steps back, and I take in the woman standing inside the entrance. "Isla! I had no idea you were helping with organizing the press conference."
"Cade called and asked if I’d help out, and I told him I wouldn’t miss it for the world."
I laugh. "It’s good to have you here."
"I was surprised, of course, that you weren’t involved in the preparations, but Cade explained you’ve been busy with a lot of his PR lately."
"Hmm." I shoot Cade a sideways glance, and he raises a shoulder. It’s not far from the truth, I suppose. Besides, I really am pleased to see Isla.
She walks over to us and surveys me with a critical eye. “You look a little worse for the wear—"
“You mean, like I stumbled here from the pub.”
She chuckles. “You look natural, which is the look that works with social media. And the fact that you’re wearing his jacket—" Her grin widens. “That’s a stroke of genius.”
“Guess whose idea that was?” Cade smirks.
Isla and I exchange a look, then she stabs her thumb over her shoulder at the door. “Come on, they’re expecting you.” She turns and heads toward the stage. Cade twines his fingers with mine and leads me in her wake.
When we step onto the stage, the flashbulbs blind us. It seems to continue for a good few minutes before Isla is finally able to calm them down. Eventually, they quiet down. All of the journalists’ faces turn toward us. Sweat slicks my palms, and my pulse booms in my ears. I glance about the audience, and my heart sinks into my stomach.
Oh god, why did I agreed to do this so publicly? Why didn’t I ask for the engagement to be private, and then, we could have made it official on social media? That would have been the easy way out. And as a PR professional, I should have recommended that. But I hadn’t been thinking clearly—for it didn’t even cross my mind. My arms and legs feel so heavy, a numbing sensation crawls up my spine. That familiar dizziness assails me, when he takes my other hand in his and turns me so I’m facing him. “Eyes on me.”
His hard voice slices through the turmoil in my head. The chatter recedes. I look up into his mismatched irises, and a calm descends upon me. This is it. This is what I want. This is where I’m meant to be.
“You good?”
I nod.
Without taking his gaze off of me, he releases his hold on one hand, then slides it into his pocket and holds up a ring. A gasp runs through the audience, but no one speaks. Then, he raises my left hand and slides the ring onto my finger. Flashlights go off, but I don’t take my gaze from his. He brings my hand up to his mouth then kisses the ring.
“You were always the one, Abby. From the minute I saw you, I knew I wanted you in my life, by my side. From the second I touched you, I knew there was no one else for me. I’ve spent most of my life thinking about you and can’t wait another second without making you mine. I have faced so many challenges without you, and I know if you’re with me, I can meet whatever else life throws at me.”
I swallow. My throat hurts. A stinging sensation builds behind my eyes.
“I promise to do everything in my power to protect you and keep you safe. I promise, I’ll ensure you always wake up with a smile on your face.” He rubs his thumb across my knuckles. I shiver. His lips quirk. “I can’t imagine a scenario where I won’t want to kiss your face off as soon as I see you.”
“Kiss her!” Someone yells.
“Kiss, kiss, kiss.” The rest of the audience chants.
“Wait.” I hold up my free hand and wait for silence. “I don’t recall you asking a question.”
“Oh?” His eyebrows shoot up. Surprise transforms his features. “A question, huh?”
“The question.” I allow myself a small smile. “If you want me to marry you, surely, you need to go down on one knee and—" I gasp, for in one smooth move, he’s dropped down to the floor on one knee.
More gasps, more flashbulbs, and once more, the crowd settles. The silence is broken by whispers and titters as the crowd waits for his next words.