and me being here together than my past, though.
“This won’t be a repeat of our last dance, will it?”
He cringes. Yeah, he said some pretty shitty things to me, and he deserves to know I’m not going to just sweep it under the rug so quick.
“This one will make up for the last one.” He holds his hand out between us.
“Okay, then, but I should mention my heels have quite the spike.” I lift my leg out from my full skirt and show him how high and pointy my heel is.
“Noted,” he says, a smile tipping his lips.
I accept his outstretched hand and let him lead me onto the dance floor.
The gala is held in a giant ballroom in one of the museum wings. The glass roof was done in the 1920s and reminds me of the underside of a Tiffany lamp. The golden lights of the chandelier and the wall sconces cast an almost candle-like glow around the room, creating an intimate ambience. A small orchestra plays from the front of the room on a temporary stage.
Once we reach the middle of the dance floor, I step into Garrin’s welcoming arms and my body calms. There’s a peace that comes with being surrounded and protected under his large frame. He takes my hand and presses his other into my lower back, bringing me closer to him, and I feel his legs push against the fullness of my skirt.
He smells like he did the other night and the scent draws me closer to him, my lips to his neck. Smelling him only reminds me of him smelling my perfume outside. I tried to keep my cool, but it was the most erotic moment of my life and he didn’t even lay a finger on me.
Garrett the boy was charming, but Garrett the man is damn near irresistible.
He leads much like the first time we danced, but this time he seems more relaxed. I enjoy the heat of his body so close to mine, the feel of our palms pressed together, the way his breath tickles the hairs on my head. So smooth, so trained—at any moment, my feet could lift off the dance floor and I’d fly in his arms.
“Did you attend a lot of events like this back in Washington?” Garrett asks.
I chuckle quietly. “No. I kept as far from the society circuit as possible.”
He draws back with a wry expression so he can look at me. “You mean you didn’t miss all this bullshitting?”
My forehead falls to his shoulder and I bite my laugh down. “Hard to believe, isn’t it?”
It feels good to laugh and smile—it does. But as soon as that thought hits my consciousness, my dad comes to mind, bedridden and fighting for his life, and guilt riddles me. What right do I have to be enjoying myself?
Garrin stops us and looks down at me, his dark eyes assessing. “Hey, where’d you go?”
“Sorry, I promised I wouldn’t be a drag tonight. How about we grab a glass of champagne? Do you mind?”
“Of course not.” He holds his elbow out and I loop my arm through his.
We head to the side of the dance floor and a server passes by with a tray. Garrin grabs a champagne flute off the tray, passing it to me.
“Thank you.” I sip half the glass, enjoying the sensation of the bubbles hitting my tongue. “Are the rest of the Classholes going to be here tonight?”
Garrin glances around the room. “Ford will be here, as I’m sure you know, and Lincoln generally makes an appearance. Pretty sure Ryker said he’d be attending. His mother is on the board.”
I nod, thankful that he didn’t mention Asher. It’s not that he was unpleasant when I saw him, and I don’t have any hard feelings toward him per se. I don’t believe it was his fault someone taped us and leaked it. But seeing the two of us in public, together in a group, which I’m sure we would be given that I’m here as Garrin’s date tonight, might make people more likely to remember and talk about my past. And I cannot handle that possibility after everything I’ve learned about my father tonight.
What I can handle is imbibing enough that I’m able to put my concerns about my father to the back of my head for the evening. I tilt my head back and take a large sip from my glass.
“Do you want to step outside for some fresh air?” Garrin asks.
“That would be