“Not only is she here, she’s here with Brett. Psychotic, creep-tastic Brett. As his date.”
Chase doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, doesn’t even try to touch me. He just watches me from his spot by the door with careful eyes, waiting for me to work though this.
“Which means Brett knows. I don’t know how he knows, but heknows. Ralph got to him. Or he got to Ralph. Somebody got to someone. A meeting of the mentally-unstable minds, if you will. Either way, heknows.”
Chase’s expression doesn’t waver as my voice goes up an octave, getting even more hysterical.
“We know thatheknows. And as soon as we go out there and face him, he’llknowthat we know.” I try to breathe deeply, but can’t manage it. “What we don’t know is ifsheknows. You know?”
“Gemma.”
“She probably doesn’t know — not about me, not that her date is crazier than thatput-the-lotion-on-its-skindude inThe Silence of the Lambs. She’s probably just a pawn, right? A threat. That’s Brett’s style. Find out about my hidden half sister and dangle her in front of me at a major, publicized event, so I’m constantly waiting for the shoe to drop. It’s psychological warfare.”
“Gemma, breathe.”
“I can’t breathe!” I stop circling, coming to face him with my hands on my hips and tears pricking at my eyes. “My sister is out there. Mysister.”
“Gemma.”
“What?”
He reaches out, grabs me by the hand, and tugs me to him. The sudden move sends me stumbling into his chest, the hard landing almost enough to knock the wind from my lungs, but I don’t care. Because suddenly Chase is kissing me and, when he does, the rest of the world fades away, until thoughts of crazy relatives intent on destroying us, and nasty socialites who think we’re wrong for each other, and even the small parts in my own mind that question what on earth we’re doing here fade away.
He kisses me until I start to disappear. Not all of me — just the part that’s never had a safe place to land, never trusted anyone, not fully, because I learned early that everyone disappoints you eventually. The part that thought relationships like this were nothing more than Hallmark propaganda, that never thought I’d find someone who could wrap his arms around me and, with just one touch, make everything in my world seem right. The part that doubted a man like this — afeelinglike this — even existed.
His hands slide into the hair at my temples, pulling me closer, deepening the kiss. Giving me what I need — not empty words, not paltry reassurances that everything will be okay, not promises of something he can’t guarantee.
He knows that, given the chance, I’ll rant and rave without stopping for breath, working myself up to new heights of anxiety. And, because he knows this, he doesn’t try to talk me off the cliff. He just grabs me and pulls me from the edge, with open-mouthed kisses and lingering touches and whispered words I barely hear. Because he knows it’s what I need.
He knows me.
It’s a sudden thought, and a surprising one, that this man, who I’ve known such a short time, could understand my inner workings better than anyone I’ve ever met. It seems ridiculous, at first. Yet, as the thought settles in a corner in the back of my mind… I see the indisputable truth in it.
And as his hands slip under the hem of my dress, as my arms wind around his shoulders, as he lifts me against the coat-room wall and brings us together, we don’t say anything as we make good on the promise he made to Mrs. Breeland. We just touch and cling, our mouths never breaking apart, and lend each other strength with the comfort of our hands.
***
A secret smile plays on my lips as we walk, hand in hand, back to the party. My hair is a little wild and I’ve had to completely reapply my lipstick, thanks to Chase’s kisses, but I can’t say I’m even a little bit sorry about that.
The cocktail hour has wound down in our absence and the atrium is rapidly emptying as people wander into the main ballroom to find their tables. Even the thought of sitting at Chase’s side through a three-course meal in front of hundreds of people isn’t enough to diffuse the happy glow that’s settled around me. Still, as we round the bar and head for the ballroom, the smile falls abruptly off my face… because standing there, in our direct path, are Brett and Phoebe.
Unavoidable.
I feel Chase’s hand tighten on mine as he stops, his narrowed eyes locking instantly with Brett’s gloating ones.
“Cousin!” Brett grins. “There you are. I was wondering if you’d even bothered to come.”
“I’m here,” Chase says flatly.
“Well, good. If you hadn’t shown up, Jameson might’ve had to give the position to someone else.” His words are playful — a harmless joke between cousins, to anyone else’s ears — but from this distance, I see Brett’s eyes gleam with repressed vitriol, which doesn’t wane as his gaze slides to me.
“And Gemma! Looking lovely, as ever.”
He leans in to kiss my cheek, and Chase goes so tense, I think he’s going to snap and punch Brett out in the middle of the atrium. I’m utterly still as Brett’s lips skim my cheek in a cool kiss. A deep rattle of anger rumbles from Chase’s throat as soon as his cousin’s mouth makes contact, and I quickly step back to his side.
“Always a pleasure,” I say, my words as stiff as my expression.
“We still need to meet, to discuss that artwork you sold me,” Brett reminds me cheerily. “Perhaps you can swing by my apartment tomorrow.”