He chuckled softly and peppered my cheeks, jaw, and throat with slow kisses. “I wish I could stay, I really do. But once I get this case taken care of, we’ll have more time together.”
I pouted, unable to help it. Already my body was warming, my most intimate areas pulsing with desire.
“Promise me,” he said, resting his forehead against mine. “After the benefit you come to me.”
His voice was so stern, so serious, that it made something lump in my throat. “Why?”
“Just promise me.”
I frowned, unable to figure out why his plea sounded so ominous. Then I nodded and trailed my fingertips down his scruffy cheeks, stopping at his lips.
He nipped the tip of my finger with his teeth and grinned, but even I noticed it didn’t reach his eyes.
“Is everything okay?” I asked when he pushed off the bed and stood up.
“It will be.”
Shifting, I reached over and grabbed my robe and slipped into it as I climbed out of bed. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”
Tyson chewed the inside of his lip before he grinned. He was a master of his emotions, able to hide the ones he didn’t want me to see, but as he walked toward me and placed his hands on my hips, and then dropped his lips to mine, I learned that he couldn’t hide them all.
“You’re right. But if you can be at my place Saturday, I promise to tell you everything that I haven’t been able to yet.”
An icy chill slithered into my veins even as I found myself nodding. “Okay, Tyson. Saturday.”
He kissed me again, pressing his lips to my forehead and inhaling at the same time. As he walked away, I couldn’t help but think that somehow…
Saturday was not going to come fast enough.
Chapter 18
“You are stunning, Gabriella.”
“Thank you.” I dipped my chin at Malik’s praise. I allowed him to take my arm, and he grasped my elbow with his hand, cupping it while he guided me into the waiting limo.
I had to admit, the beautiful navy gown I had on fit me perfectly. I chose something that radiated class and elegance but didn’t show too much skin. I still didn’t want Malik to get the wrong idea, and with a sweetheart neckline that revealed just a hint of cleavage, the dress wasn’t overtly sexual. The designer gown cost a mint, but after I slid it on in the dressing room, I had to have it. It left a nice dent in my credit card, but with the money I was making at DPA, I wasn’t worried. It was luxurious and soft. And while Malik’s compliment made me blush, it was Tyson’s opinion and expression that I couldn’t wait to see later on.
Malik climbed into the limo behind me, sitting next to me on the bench. As he sat, he adjusted himself on the seat, moving closer to me. It felt too close, too intimate, and I had to wipe a scowl off my face when he turned and smiled down at me.
“Champagne?”
“Please,” I whispered, pushing down the frustration. A part of me wanted to remind Malik what we spoke of earlier this week. This was not a night where he could try to seduce me into getting what he wanted. I wanted to remind him that I was with someone. That I would never be his. The other part wanted to just get through this evening with as little conflict as possible. Once I refused to marry him, and revealed everything to my father, I would never attend an event of this magnitude again. And while I wouldn’t miss it, I did want to enjoy the evening and the hard work that Simone and I had finally pulled off.
I took the glass of champagne from Malik when he pointed a flute in my direction, taking care that our fingers didn’t brush, and quickly brought it to my lips. The bubbles simmered on my tongue, warming my mouth and my throat as I swallowed.
“This is delicious,” I told him honestly.
His reaction was pleased, and his smile was light as he watched me take another sip.
“Tell me how your job is going. Are you enjoying being at DPA?”
I glanced at him to find he looked genuinely curious as he leaned back in his seat, champagne glass held gingerly in his large hands.
“I don’t think the week before a party like this was probably the best time to start,” I admitted, thinking back to all the fires Simone had to put out and all the issues I had helped her solve. “And yet, it was probably the best way, too. I’ve learned a lot in a short amount of time.”
Malik nodded his understanding. “Baptism by fire, you might say.”
I grinned into my champagne glass. “Yes. It’s been exactly like that.”
“You don’t have to be nervous with me, Gabriella,” Malik stated after a moment of a silence. “I intend to keep my word with you.”
I swallowed thickly, not realizing that my nerves and doubt were written so plainly on my face. Sucking my bottom lip into my mouth, I whispered, “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“That being said,” he began and leaned forward. As he did, his eyes darkened and his lips pulled into a straight line. “There is a conversation that we must have.”
I jerked in my seat, startled at the sudden shift in his demeanor. “What is it?”
“We’ll save it for after the party. I don’t wish to ruin our fun or the evening for you.”
While that was nice, polite even, that same tense feeling that had been in my father’s house all week began to fill the car, thickening the air between us.
“Malik—”
“Later.” He pressed the tip of his champagne glass to his mouth, signaling to me that he wasn’t going to discuss it further. “For now, let’s enjoy the evening, each other’s company, and do the jobs we’re supposed to be doing.”
His suggestion was more like a warning—one I didn’t fully understand. My brow crinkled in confusion, but then I nodded, because I had no other choice. “Okay,” I whispered, glancing down at my own champagne glass. “I won’t like this conversation we’re going to have later, will I?”
“Do you ever enjoy anything that has to do with your father’s business or your family?”
“I think that’s my answer,” I muttered, lips pulling into a frown.
He chuckled and I felt my own lips twitch. At least he found me humorous.
“I can guarantee you an evening of seeing your work on display, excellent food…” He paused, and I lifted my eyes to see his lips twitching, fighting a smile. “And perhaps, semi-decent company.”
While I didn’t appreciate the warning of what would occur later, I did appreciate his attempts to lighten the mood in the car.
To show him, I raised my champagne glass to his and give him a wink. “To semi-decent company this evening.”
His eyes crinkled at the outer edges as his smile widened. “Cheers.”
—
Dinner was incredibly fabulous. I dined on delicious rack of lamb and roasted vegetables. Waiters appeared on a well-timed schedule changing the courses, from a palate cleanser to a soup, a brief salad, and then the main course, followed by a beautiful dessert mousse that tasted like my favorite, french silk pie, except a thousand times better.
And as we had discussed in the limo, the company was decent. Better than semi-decent, truly. Malik was nothing less than a gentleman at every opportunity, and he kept our physical space appropriate except for when he placed his hand on my back to guide me wherever he wanted to go. And there was a lot of guiding and leading. The number of politicians in the gorgeous dining hall at the Museum of Contemporary Art Detroit was astounding. There were even more wealthy business leaders. There was a smattering of famous athletes and models. A few celebrity musicians also joined together to raise millions of dollars for breast cancer research.
A part of me knew it was all for show. The room was filled with powerful men and women. As they figuratively opened their wallets to donate funds or bid on silent auction items that included expensive jewels and glorious vacations, I could practically see the men’s hard-ons when they realized they had more money than their adversaries.
Despite that, I still appreciated the monetary donations as well as the support for my mom that many people came to give me in hushed tones and whispers. It was not lost on me that people in this crowd loved my mother. Their pain and sincerity when they realized I was her daughter, and that neither of my parents were in attendance at their own benefit, was clear. I was moved to tears several times throughout the evening, and it was always when I began to fear that I would lose control of those emotions that Malik quickly, yet also with sympathy, led me to a private space, slid a glass of champagne into my hands, and gave me the quiet moment I needed to get myself under control.
I was in awe of not only his understanding of me, but also his ability to quickly take control in a kind way.
I wanted to believe that I had been wrong about him, that if I chose to make a life with him, I would become more than a showpiece on his arm at events like this. Yet beneath the kindness, a cunningness lingered in his eyes that made me quickly toss away that notion. It was clear from his mannerisms that he spent the night calculating and planning, regardless of whom he was speaking to. His own conversations in hushed but firm whispers didn’t go unnoticed by me, and several times he walked away from men that he didn’t bother to introduce me to with a muscle jumping in his cheek.