a little harder than necessary. “Do you mind if I steal him away for a minute?” I asked Jillian with something I hoped resembled a smile.
She looked between the two of us and eventually nodded. “I’ll go say hello to some friends.”
Once she was out of earshot, Leo shot me a smirk. “Don’t tell me I was already giving off the signal?”
“What signal?”
“The get-this-annoying-clingy-woman-away-from-me signal.”
“Yeah, that’s not why I’m here.” I took his arm and dragged him away from prying ears. “Jillian is Jim Green’s daughter.”
His expression immediately sobered. “Why the hell would Dad make me bring Green’s daughter?”
“Yeah, that’s the question of the hour, and I don’t have an answer for you.”
Leo’s gaze snagged on something behind me, and I turned to see what he found more interesting than this conversation.
My breath whooshed out of me as a hush fell over the room. Or maybe it was just that I stopped being about to hear—or see—anything but her.
Thea stood in the entrance to the ballroom, looking like a cross between Cinderella and every one of my daydreams come to life. Except, she was wearing considerably more fabric than in most of my daydreams.
I didn’t know enough about women’s fashion to adequately describe the dark pink dress, but it was tight, showing off luscious curves, plenty of cleavage, and her creamy, white shoulders. Her hair was arranged over one shoulder in a mass of soft curls, and her beautiful mouth was painted the same color as her dress.
She was spectacular, and I knew this image of her would be burned into my brain forever.
“Fuck me,” Leo muttered under his breath, as though he was speaking directly to the woman we both wanted.
And I tried not to let myself think about how he’d get the chance to fuck her tonight and every night after.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Thea
Petra and I paused at the entrance to the country club ballroom to soak it all in. The room itself wasn’t at all what I’d expected. There were no crystal chandeliers or marble floors. Instead, walls of windows overlooked the forest beyond, and glossy wood beams accented the ceilings and front of the room, which boasted a floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace. Silky tablecloths covered round tables with tall, elegant flower arrangements, and every setting included gold silverware and crystal goblets.
Everything about the setup screamed class without being stuffy. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I was comfortable in this environment, but I didn’t immediately want to turn and run away.
Until I felt what had to be a hundred pairs of eyes on me.
Okay, that was an exaggeration. But as we made our way farther into the room, the number of people watching us clearly exceeded those who ignored us.
“Told you the pink was too much,” I muttered to Petra.
In reality, I didn’t know that I could love this dress any more. It was a velvet, off-the-shoulder mermaid gown in the perfect shade of deep raspberry. The fabric clung to my curves in all of the best ways, and the sweetheart neckline displayed the top swells of my breasts without being unsuitable for the occasion. At least, that’s what Petra had said when I tried it on.
Now, with so many people staring, I wasn’t so sure.
At least I had the silver shoes I’d found in my mother’s things to give me an extra boost of confidence. I still couldn’t believe the metallic stilettos with elaborate crystal embellishments fit me perfectly. It was like they were made for me, instead of my mother, who had worn a half-size larger.
Petra released a dismissive snort. “Oh, they’re just jealous, because we’re the most fabulous women in the room.”
Sure. We would go with that theory. Especially since this would likely be my only opportunity to walk into a room dressed in a gown that cost more than what I made in two months at The Grind.
It was beyond extravagant, but at this particular moment in time, I didn’t care. This event was all about Vincent throwing his money and status around, so I would be the dutiful, semi-permanent houseguest and play along. And look damn fabulous doing it in a dress he paid for.
I instinctively searched the room for Leo, but it was the other two Sharpe brothers who caught my eye. Tristin and Hayle were striding toward us, both looking handsome though nothing alike. Hayle’s mop of almost-black hair was as wild as ever, and his suit had a flair of interest and modern style to it. Tristin, on the