don’t like holding poses for pictures, do you?” she asked with a smile.
“Not really,” he replied while staring down into eyes that appeared to have more yellow highlights than he’d noticed before. “But I enjoy holding you.”
She blinked as if trying to figure out if she should smile at his words or feel something deeper, something more potent than he’d assumed either of them would feel. When she remained silent, he lifted a hand to brush the backs of his fingers lightly over the line of her jaw. She continued to smile and surprised him by leaning her head into his touch. It was a quick and impromptu movement, one that had his breath catching seconds before more pictures were snapped.
With the warm air around them and the sound of violins, harps—or whatever instruments the quartet at the other end of the room was playing—echoing toward the sky, he was locked in her gaze, wrapped in this blissful attraction. She must have felt it, too, because she suddenly looked puzzled. He wanted to say something reassuring, to convince them both that they were simply beginning their series of acting assignments for the next six weeks, but Riley’s voice interrupted the music and stopped his thoughts.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for joining us tonight. While we have a few upcoming things happening within the fashion house that we’ll also be talking about tonight, we don’t want to keep you in suspense any longer about the big reveal. As always, the patriarch of our family, my father, Mr. Ron Gold, will start the announcements.”
Major had taken Nina’s hand without thought, moving them until they stood to the side with Riley. The white podium where his sister had introduced their father was alight with the same purple accent as the flowered arch, lounge chairs and high-boy tables throughout the space. On the other side of the podium stood Maurice and RJ, watching as his father stepped up to the microphone.
A tall, distinguished-looking man with a bald head and stern facial features, Ron Gold was the epitome of fashion dressed in an original RGF chocolate-brown suit, crisp white shirt and canary yellow silk tie.
“I’ll echo my daughter’s gratitude for your attendance tonight. We know you’re normally ready for a few industry announcements at this event, but this year we have something a little more special,” he began. “As you know, we’ve had a very successful launch into this year’s Fashion Weeks with the unveiling of our Golden Bride Collection in February. Well, tonight the Gold family is pleased to announce that not only are we celebrating a phenomenal episode in bridal fashion, we’re also overjoyed with the engagement of our son Major to the lovely Ms. Nina Fuller.”
At first there were gasps followed by the low buzz of murmurs before multiple camera flashes lit up the room. Applause began with a quick burst and Nina’s fingers trembled in his. Major gave her hand a little squeeze and then lifted it to his lips to kiss. Another impromptu action that sent the crowd into more clapping and more picture-snapping.
Normally, this would be the point where Major would turn away, leaving the beast of pictures and questions behind. If it wasn’t after an RGF show, where Ron liked for each of his children to make comments to demonstrate they were all personally and professionally vested in the presentations, then Major didn’t deal with the tabloids or the press. Yet tonight, he stood a little straighter and squared his shoulders. For the first time, he didn’t mind having pictures taken with this woman beside him. Perhaps because this time he—meaning the marketing team—was orchestrating the response of every reporter and photographer in this space.
It was a surreal moment, one he’d never thought he’d experience. The announcement of his wedding. He reminded himself it was fake and shook off the feeling of excitement that had started to blossom in the pit of his stomach. Instead, he turned to look at Nina, who was smiling—no, she was beaming as she looked from one camera to another, the tilt of her head and easy movement of her body as if she’d practiced for this moment all her life. She appeared so natural, her hand so comfortable in his. That odd stirring he’d had when they first stood under the arch moved through him again and this time he knew it wasn’t solely arousal. Desire was a definite between them and very easy to acknowledge and understand. This other