Clearly, she wanted to enjoy herself, given the number of invitations she accepted. Despite the parties she’d attended and traveling she’d done, Oliver and his father could tell she was hiding, and she was too special to lock herself away.
Qasim fully agreed. He’d resisted the urge to ask out the heiress, not wanting his interest in her to complicate his business relationship with her father. The time he’d spent getting to know Vectra, however, was making that less and less of a repellant.
Then, Oliver’s loose tongue let slip an enraged curse upon the man who had “done that” to her. Qasim remembered both thanking and cursing his high tolerance for alcohol that night. Had he been more intoxicated, he may have forgotten Oliver telling him that his sister’s last relationship had damn near destroyed her. The man she’d given her heart to had chosen to reciprocate her love with his abuse.
Whatever buzz he may’ve had from the whiskey had ceased and was then absorbed by the wave of rage. He’d only gotten a last name out of Oliver before the man passed out. Thankfully, it wasn’t a last name Qasim recognized.
He knew enough, though. Not subjecting Vectra to his possessiveness became even more important after that revelation. He never wanted her to be afraid of him. He knew how much more of a possibility that could be if he let her see how little control he had over it.
He’d already blown it enough by threatening Lew. She was sure to shun him if he were to break some guy’s nose just for shaking her hand. Besides, he’d heard the stories of how a man’s possessiveness could be mistaken for love and the results it could bring. He wouldn’t subject Vectra to that.
A calmer, more rational part of his soul called out that he wasn’t that kind of man. Qasim discarded that as rubbish when he felt heat rush the back of his neck. Austin Sharpe, his arm still too snug about Vectra’s waist, was escorting her from the dining room.
“Image is everything. You know that.”
Vectra laughed while Austin relayed his lofty plans for her Miami gallery in collaboration with the event he wanted to hold.
“I’ve already had a thing on a yacht, but a gallery event would give me a chance to show off a different kind of style.”
“Is that the same thing as image?” she teased.
Austin spread his hands accommodatingly. “Of course.”
Vectra laughed, bracing a hand to his chest to steady herself.
“Vectra,” Qasim called, voice flat and deep across the lobby, drawing her and Austin’s attention.
“Sim.” Austin smiled.
Qasim didn’t spare the man a glance. “You done eating with your father?” he asked her.
“Well, I needed—” She stopped when he took her elbow, easing her out of Austin’s grasp. Vectra cast a surprised look over her shoulder to Austin and found that he seemed more amused than confused or angry.
He waved. “We’ll talk later, Vec. I need to get goin’, anyway. Catch up with you later, Sim.”
Vectra didn’t check to see if Qasim had acknowledged Austin with a look or nod. He was taking her back into the dining room.
“What are you doing?” she whispered, practically able to feel the heat radiating off him in angry waves.
“Who are you going to Robb’s party with, Vectra?”
The question caused her to stumble a bit. “Are you serious? Qasim, we need to talk.”
“We have.”
Vectra didn’t realize they’d already returned to the table until Qasim helped her back into her seat.
“Join us, Qasim,” Oscar Bauer offered.
Qasim’s hand lingered on the back of Vectra’s chair. “Maybe another time, sir.” He didn’t glance her way before he turned and left the dining room.
Chapter 4
Vectra accepted her brother’s hand when he helped her down from his Jeep that evening. By that time, she’d almost forgotten how utterly bewildered she’d been early that morning.
“Good?” Oliver gave both her hands a shake when she stood before him on the sidewalk outside Dazzles. The restaurant-nightclub was owned by the party’s guest of honor, Robb DeWitt.
“I promise I’m good.” She eased a hand through the crook of his arm and squeezed. “Just please don’t abandon me the second we walk up in here. I need to get my balance on these heels first.”
Oliver’s laughter turned heads almost as much as Vectra’s dress. She was determined to enjoy herself. The little wiggle of anticipation haunting her spine was exciting, albeit annoying.
Vectra’s gown was fashioned from a shimmering, elegant material—a cross between silk and satin. She hadn’t known which, only that she loved it. Silver and turquoise ties secured the halter bodice that dipped scandalously low to the small of her bare back. The cool turquoise color was offset by the silver and turquoise folds of the skirt that flared elegantly about her ankles. Strappy silver heels peeked out to show off a fresh French pedicure.