Older, spray tan, and more bloated looking than I remember him.
How the hell is he here? The tickets to this event only went out to members and were a thousand dollars apiece. He’s clawed his way up the social ladder pretty far if he’s here.
I want to die. The worst part is, his surprise is warranted.
I haven’t landed a Brandt. Not really.
I’m only good enough for coffee runs, small talk, and arm candy.
Speechless, I look up at him, not sure what to say.
The inferno on my face could bake a lasagna, but I have to find some witty reply, and fast.
Ideally, before I toss my drink in his face.
This ass has to believe I’m engaged. I can’t handle the humiliation of him knowing I’ve been a placeholder twice.
Is “fuck off,” an acceptable response for a black-tie occasion?
Probably not, but it’s all I’ve got.
Especially when his lips curl with frustration and he leans in too close. “Paige? Don’t you recognize me?”
But before the panic hits, I’m engulfed with sweet mint and dark shadows. Strong arms wind around my waist, sweeping me back off the seat, and pressing me against a rock-hard slab of muscle.
Thank God.
When I melt against Ward in my fudge ice cream cone of a dress, it’s because I don’t have the energy to deal with my flipping ex. Not tonight.
He removes a hand from my waist, but I’m still held securely against him by his other arm. “Ward Brandt. Nice to meet you?”
Austin shakes his hand. “Austin Gifford. The pleasure’s all mine.”
Ward’s got both arms around me now. Probably sensing how I’m wound tighter than a drum.
“I couldn’t help overhearing that you’re curious about how we met. Paige is my assistant. When a woman this luscious is in and out of my office all day, it was a date with destiny. Hell, the first time I saw her, I was ready to beat the hell out of any man who touched her.” He drops a kiss on my shoulder strap but brushes my bare skin with his lips, his stubble, his oh my God.
I’ve become one big goosebump.
I laugh and bite my lip.
Ready to beat any man who touched me? Yeah, that’s one way to spin it. It’s also an unexpected harshness as he realizes our company isn’t welcome.
Ward drops my shoulder strap down against my bare skin.
Austin stares in disbelief. “How long have you been together?”
“Not long, but when you’ve stumbled on the One, you man up and stake your claim,” Ward says, his voice a low smolder, so possessive my knees weaken. “Right, sweetheart?”
“Thank you,” I mouth, but he moves a hand to tilt my chin further.
Apparently, he wants to give me the world’s best distraction from Satan, and I’m not complaining one bit.
Especially when he leans down, his lips ignite mine, and his tongue flicks against my lips with a feral need. My mouth opens, meeting the pressure of his tongue with my own.
I probably overdo it since this is pretend—isn’t it?
But Ward could fool me a thousand times with this kiss.
His tongue mingles, chases, and mesmerizes mine in all of three seconds.
Holy hell.
I break away just long enough to turn, facing those dark typhoons for eyes, and meet his lips again. My hands clasp together behind his towering shoulders. His arms fuse around my waist, squeezing my hips with an intensity that sends my brain spinning off into forbidden, scary, and very dirty territory.
Insanity, here we come.
What started as my unlikely hero saving me again becomes raw passion.
We’re full-on making out in the middle of the gallery. I’m vaguely aware it’s not just Austin’s eyes on us anymore.
Ward breaks away after half a minute in paradise, leaving me gasping for air. My whole body trembles, but he holds me up.
Good, because my legs aren’t stable right now, and I wonder if they ever will be again.
“Oh, God.” I’m such an idiot. It whimpers out before I realize I’ve said it.
But oh, God is right.
Ward chuckles. “You all right, darling?”
I bite my lip. Heat fills my face.
“I was better a few seconds ago.”
“Me too.” His voice sounds husky, raw—or is it my imagination?
He kisses my forehead with a lingering growl.
Nope, not my imagination at all.
And said imagination isn’t full of nightmares anymore as I turn and give the man who crushed my heart a pinprick glare.
“Sorry. I’m terrible with names and faces. Did we know each other?”
That smug, self-assured smile of his melts like a vampire seeing a