Pretty Boy (Perfect Boys #1) - K.M. Neuhold Page 0,48
that I don’t have to strain so much, and kisses me back so sweetly that it makes my throat tighten like I’m about to cry. Which is silly, because who the heck cries from a kiss? Even a kiss this dang good.
He gets dressed next, and I watch shamelessly because there ain’t nothin’ like Barrett naked. The man should have statues made of him. Except, I’m not so sure I want anyone else to have the chance to drool over him the way I am. Maybe a private statue only I get to look at.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks with amusement as he slips his own cufflinks into place.
“You,” I answer, which has been true since the day he walked into the bar and I told him off for trying to tip me a hundred bucks. I smile at the memory.
I bask in all these happy, glowy feelings up until the second we get out of the limo at the gala venue and I’m reminded just how out of place I am on Barrett’s arm. There are a couple of people with cameras waiting outside to snap pictures of us as we make our way in. I duck my head, my stomach clenching at the thought of my picture being splashed all over newspapers. I can’t imagine anyone would want to see a thing like that. Maybe they’ll crop me out…or maybe it’ll become a big headline: “Billionaire Philanthropist Seen With Some Ugly Hillbilly: Probably His Newest Charity Endeavor”
“Jeez, it ain’t like you’re Brad Pitt or nothin’,” I mutter once we step through the doors to get inside.
“I’m far more handsome than Brad Pitt,” he teases. “They probably won’t even use those pictures, but they always try to get a few to sell to the society pages or to hang onto in case I turn out to have a massive drug problem or I’m found out to be sex trafficking children or something heinous, then my picture will be worth millions.”
“That sounds like a nightmare,” I mutter, shuddering at the thought of my picture being anywhere at all.
I’m so busy imagining that horrible scenario that I don’t bother to take in the hall until Barrett’s led me all the way to a table. The place is…I don’t even know a stronger word than fancy, but dang that’s not enough. There’s crystal chandeliers, waiters carrying trays of champagne, and an orchestra playing on the stage.
“I know I ain’t too smart about this stuff, but it seems like you spent a lotta money in order to make money for charity.”
He laughs, snagging a glass off of one of the trays as the waiter passes. “It’s moronic, isn’t it? We have to fluff rich people to convince them to donate. If it was up to me, we’d skip this whole dog and pony show, but sadly this is what it takes to loosen wallets.” A woman in a long, red dress approaches, and he greets her enthusiastically, kissing her cheek and laying the compliments on thick. It’s a little funny to watch, so clearly not the real Barrett. I hang back, hoping nobody will notice me as long as I stay in the background. Of course, he ruins that plan in seconds, gesturing me forward and putting an arm around me.
“Helen, this is my date, Sterling.”
Her smile slips, and I resist the urge to hide my face against Daddy. I even manage to not squirm as I offer her my hand and say a polite nice to meet ya. She’s nice as pie back to me, but then makes an excuse to slip away right after.
“I don’t belong here,” I say quietly once she’s gone, my insides squirming as someone else makes their way over to Barrett. It’ll be like this all night. He’s the host after all, and he needs to butter all these people up so they’ll give him boatloads of money that he can give to the local homeless shelter. He told me how this works, and I get it, I do, I just don’t think I should be here for it.
“You’re mine, which means you belong where I am,” he says simply, keeping an arm firmly around me before putting on another of those fake smiles for the man who greets him next.
I’m actually relieved when Lorna, Alden, and Kiernan show up to break up the onslaught of new introductions. All three of them look as comfortable as Barrett is, which makes sense, since I’m guessing they’ve