That iron-strong arm around my waist kept me from going down and probably saved me a sprained ankle in the process. The heel had broken clear off one of my shoes, as we could all see when Sakura snatched it off my foot and held it up with distaste. "Oh for the love of … and these heels cost more than that bottle of champagne, I bet."
Axel still had not let go of me. He glanced back the way we had come, where I could hear a raised voice I feared was Grant's.
Axel cleared his throat. "If you'll allow me, Ms. Hamilton?" He picked me up before I quite realized that was what he was asking for. He didn't seem like that big a man, but I had already felt the steel strength of one arm-now it was two, one under my knees, one behind my back. With the whiteness of my dress and the blackness of his tuxedo contrasting, we looked almost like newlyweds crossing a threshold. I put my arms around his neck like I couldn't help myself.
In fact, I couldn't.
I laughed as he carried me the rest of the way, Sakura following behind twirling the dead shoe. "My hero," I said.
He just made a hum of agreement, almost a purr, and I might have tightened my grip around his neck when he did. I wanted to bury my nose in his collar and just breathe his scent and imagine he was carrying me somewhere dark and private to do bad-boy things to me. Enjoy it while you can, I told myself.
Once we were well inside the lobby, where a massive pre-event reception was taking place, Sakura took my other shoe, too, and Axel set me gently onto my stocking feet. "Surely you can't be the first person this has ever happened to," he said, looking around, then waving to someone.
A woman of some Asian American extraction hurried over to us and gave him a quick hug. "Ah, you made it! Good."
Axel introduced her to me and Sakura as his manager, Christina Pempengco, and she gushed at us for a few moments, then said, "What size shoe do you wear?"
"I'm a seven and a half, why?"
"Wait right here. I have shoes for you."
"Wha-?"
Axel laughed as Christina rushed away into the crowd. He also waved off a caterer coming toward us with a tray of full champagne flutes before the guy even had a chance to get near. "Christina is a high-energy problem solver, which is why she's a great manager," he explained. "It doesn't even have to be her problem and she'll still solve it."
We stayed where we were, my shoeless feet hidden by the fact that without my towering high heels, my dress now dragged on the floor. Axel eventually corralled some non-alcoholic drinks into our hands and ensured a steady stream of catered hors d'oeuvres flowed past us.
"I swear, it's like he has magic eye contact," Sakura whispered to me at one point.
I know what you mean, I thought.
"There's Mal," Axel said. "He's the one over there who looks like he waltzed out of a vampire flick."
I couldn't see who he meant, since without heels I couldn't see over most of the people in the crowd. But then a tall man with long black hair joined us. He and Axel hugged like brothers and the man gave Axel an up-and-down look. "What's the expression? You cleaned up nice."
"Mal, meet Ricki Hamilton, and of course you already know Sakura."
"Charmed, I'm sure," Mal said. He had a deep voice and a mildly British accent, and his tuxedo was subtly piped with silver and green. "Have you seen Chino? I seem to have lost both him and our dates."
"No. You're the tall one," Axel chided. "What do you see from up there?"
"Ah. There he is." Mal waved to someone else, and a moment later a shorter man with black spiky hair and a woman on each arm came up to us. He was grinning from ear to ear, but before I could be properly introduced to him or the women, Christina dashed back.
In her hands she had a pair of pumps miraculously almost the same color as my dress. "Here, try these."
I slipped them on. They weren't quite as tall as my previous shoes, and they were slightly too small, but they would do to get me to and from my seat. "Excellent. Thank you."
"No problem. It's so awesome to meet you, by the way. I'm the treasurer of AWESM, the Association of Women in Entertainment Studios and Media, and I wanted to thank you for your generous donation!"
"My pleasure," I said. "It's a valuable organization."
"Have you heard about the fashion show we're doing before Valentine's Day? We'll have VIP seating for our top donors! You probably have an invite in your mail!"
I smiled at her. "I'll look for it, I'm sure." Sakura had been mentioning the show, too: some of her designer pals were showing in it. Paul, my assistant, probably had the invitation in a file of low-priority things for me to look at.
"Now, Axel, I'm trying to find Errold Rothschild so you can make a good impression on him."
"Remind me who that is?" Axel asked with a skeptical look on his face.
Christina rolled her eyes. "The head of the UK division? I want him to be impressed by how fantastic you all look." She gave me a quick smile. I got the impression she was happy Axel might be seen with me. Interesting.
She dashed off again to find the record company executive but she hadn't returned by the time the ushers were urging us to go into the auditorium.
By the time we reached our seats I was very ready to disappear into the audience. I've never particularly liked being in the spotlight and even though no one was really paying attention to us once we'd left the red carpet, I had felt like everyone was staring at me.
We were in the orchestra section, between twenty and thirty rows back, near the aisle in case Axel's band won anything and he had to go on stage. There were three empty seats next to us, though, that made me wonder. Grant's and who else?
I got my answer when two more guys hurried down the aisle together and were enthusiastically greeted by Chino and Axel. Axel introduced them to me and Sakura as "Samson, our keyboard player" and "Ford, bass." Ford had his blond hair pulled back in a ponytail but shook it free before he sat down. Samson had brown hair, blue eyes, and a quiet smile. They both had firm handshakes even though they looked pretty overwhelmed by the whole setting.
Chino seemed to be the one having the most fun. "Who do you think sat in this seat last time, eh? Madonna? Beyoncé?" He wiggled in his chair. "I'm going to pretend my booty is long-distance time-traveling touching the seat that Beyoncé's booty touched."
Mal rolled his eyes. "Honestly."
But Axel laughed. "How about you, Sakura? Who sat in your chair? You still have that fantasy about David Bowie?"
"Oh, please, he's like three times my age," Sakura said, but she blushed a little.
"Mal? How 'bout you?"
Mal gave his friend a dark glare. "Celebrities are the last people I'd want to fuck."
I teased Axel, then. "What about you? Whose chair do you want?"
Axel drew himself up to his full height. "No, really the question is who wants to sit in my seat." It felt like sex god vibes were pouring off him in waves.
Or maybe I was the only one who felt that way. The rest of them were used to being around him, I guess. They shrugged it off when a short while later he made everyone get up and change seats, supposedly to make it even easier for the band members to reach the aisle. But I did notice I ended up in the seat he had been in. It was as warm as if he had rested his hand on my back.
The lights went down then for the start of the show and I settled back as the intro music began to play. Fairly early in the ceremony a category came up that included one of the band's songs and I noticed that Ford held Axel's hand so tight I thought both of their fingers must be going numb. Alas, the song did not win. Axel patted Ford's arm and told him that they'd have to hold out for Best New Artist.
And then a short while later the whole band was spirited away by a handler. I gave Sakura a questioning look.
"They're performing a number," she explained.
Well, I thought, at least something'll be worth seeing at this show.
CHAPTER TWO
SHORT FUSE
AXEL
Is it a cliché to talk about how good a woman smells? When I swept Ricki up into my arms I got a good lungful of the nose candy that was her scent. If that was what cocaine smelled like, I could see why people got addicted. I didn't want to put her down. I wanted to carry her right to a dressing room in the back and see if she tasted as good as she smelled.
Sakura, that lion-tamer, gave me a "down boy" look as I set Ms. Hamilton onto her petite feet, though. Okay, fine. I reminded myself I was there to work, not to play, and this wasn't some groupie: this was a woman who could buy and sell me and my band ten times over.
She was still a woman, though-not a robot or made of actual ice even if she had an ice-queen reputation. I caught her looking at me a few times. I caught her leaning toward me.
Maybe the playboy image had something going for it, after all.
Fantasizing about her was a great way to distract myself from anxiety about the awards. When her date didn't make it to the seats before showtime began, I felt fully justified rearranging everyone's seats and making sure she was conveniently next to me. The show handlers filled in the empty seat with someone I didn't know and didn't pay attention to. I paid attention to the way Ricki's slender, bare shoulder looked nibble-able. Her evening gown left her neck and arms bare except for the diamonds she wore, which I assumed were real. That didn't stop me from dreaming about tearing her necklace away so I could get at the tender places on her neck that would make her sigh, make her moan. Down, boy.