main entrance to let out their guests.
When it’s my turn to get out, I feel like I’m going to be sick. The idea of walking inside alone doesn’t sit well with me. This isn’t some kinky sex club. This is a highly publicized event with a red carpet. I can’t walk in there alone. The press will eat me alive. I start to hyperventilate but then my door suddenly opens, and I breathe a sigh of relief. The tears that were teetering on my lashes blink away as I stare up at Baz. His face softens when he sees me, likely taking in my panicked expression. He bends, leveling our gazes.
“Hey, it’s just us out there. Tune them out. They’re going to shout questions, going to say stuff to get a reaction out of you, but you’re going to keep your head held high and ignore them. Got it?”
I nod, even though I’m positive I don’t have it. I don’t see how I’ll be able to walk in there and pretend I can’t hear the rapid-fire questions that will, no doubt, be yelled out at me. Baz sticks his hand out between us, palm up, for me to take, and he helps me out of the car. The sounds hit me first. The yelling, the loud clatter of voices, the flashes and clicking of photographers as they try to snap the perfect shot to sell. My body shakes as I stand upright, straightening my dress.
I wait for Baz to start leading the way, but when he doesn’t, I look up at him, wondering what’s wrong. I stop short when our gazes collide. His eyes are devouring me. Warmth spills into my chest at the gleam of awe in his eyes. His lips part on instinct, and he pulls me into his side, squeezing my palm in his for reassurance.
He dips his head near my ear, and the photographers around us go crazy. “You look like an angel,” he whispers, as we walk the red carpet. Heat rises to my cheeks, and I can’t help but smile up at him. That must’ve been the reaction he wanted because he grins. It’s short-lived, but he smiles down at me and presses a kiss to the side of my head, leading the way. I realize then, it’s the first time he’ll ever be seen smiling on a red carpet, and it’s with me.
He shields my body with his, and I work to tune out the questions as we make our way through the never-ending carpet. I try not to flinch at the harsh accusations as they abrade my skin. I keep my hand firmly planted in his as we stop for photographs on the red carpet.
After what feels like we’ve smiled and posed for hundreds of pictures, we step off the carpet into the main hall. Even though this is a different event, I can’t help the sense of déjà vu I get. I glance around the opulent ballroom that screams wealth. My heart pangs when I glance around, saddened I won’t be seeing Ava again. She was a slice of sunshine at the last gala I attended with Baz for orphaned children. I haven’t forgotten about her. She’s always at the back of my mind, and I’m always left wondering if she’s okay. If she’s happy. I wonder if a family has adopted her up yet and given her the life she deserves.
“What are you thinking about?” Baz asks, his voice skating across my skin like gravel.
I tell him the truth, seeing no use in lying about this. “Ava.”
I don’t expect him to remember who I’m referring to, but I’m happily surprised when he does remember her. “She was cute. That event was on a smaller scale. That’s why it felt a little more intimate than this one does.”
“I’m surprised you remember.”
“There’s a lot I remember, Mackenzie,” he says vaguely, guiding us to one of the many waiters milling about. He’s carrying a tray filled with flutes of champagne. Baz hands me one and makes his rounds, speaking to different groups of people, all the while I’m working to process all the familiar faces I’m seeing. I didn’t think Baz knew half the people who he’s greeting, but Christ, he does, in fact, know most, if not all, of the important people in the industry.
I let out a ragged gasp, my eyes growing round with shock when I see who’s only a few feet away from us. I grip onto Baz’s arm,