The elevator slowed to a stop and the doors slid open. From the corner of his eye, he saw a guy wearing a tux and black half mask join their awkward party, but Dillon ignored him like the others. Alyssa glanced past his shoulder at the newcomer and then spoke softly.
“Dillon, I don’t know where you’re going with this, but I don’t want to discuss it anymore.”
He didn’t bother to acknowledge the statement. He wasn’t giving up because she was uncomfortable or embarrassed. They’d never see these people again, and if he didn’t get this out now, he didn’t know if he ever would. “Just listen. You don’t get a stronger foundation than a lifelong friendship like ours. Love is the framing that’ll hold us together no matter what we face. And as far as the last thing goes, I’d say our teamwork shoots way past ‘damn good’ into the ranges of mind-blowing and best-I’ve-ever-had.”
“Dillon,” Alyssa whispered as her cheeks flooded with color.
“I’m only being honest. And having the kind of chemistry that burns up the sheets and breaks lamps is nothing to be ashamed about.”
Behind him, quiet gasps and what might have been a muttered “Amen” barely registered on his radar. But as they finally reached their floor, the man angling himself to get a better look at Alyssa didn’t escape Dillon’s notice.
The doors parted. “Is this guy bothering you? Do you want me to find security?”
“No, that’s not necessary,” she answered. “We’re just talking.”
Dillon recognized the voice as that of Captain Mark of the S.S. Douchebag. Lowering his arm, he turned to confront the player who’d tried getting in Alyssa’s panties the night before.
“You again,” Mark said with more than a hint of disdain.
The ladies passed between them, visibly trying to make themselves as small as possible. The second one paused long enough at the threshold to give him a sympathetic look and mouth “Good luck” before chasing after her friend.
The doors closing again jolted the three of them remaining into action. Dillon and Mark each shot a hand out to activate the sensors, and Alyssa didn’t waste anymore time. Grabbing handfuls of her dress, she hitched up the front and swept into the lobby. Dillon stepped in her direction but was pulled up short with a hand on his shoulder.
“Swing and a miss, buddy. Step aside and give someone else a chance.”
Dillon growled as he spun around and got within an inch of the prick’s face. “You even try to touch her, and I’ll make sure you won’t need the fake hook for your costume next year. Got it?”
“Whoa.” Palms held out, the pretty boy backed up. “Whatever, man. There’s plenty of fish in the sea. I don’t need that cold one.”
The man’s attitude made Dillon sick, but teaching him a lesson in respecting women would be a waste of time he didn’t have. Turning back, he scanned the area for Alyssa.
“Ho. Ly. Shit.” The lobby area of the second floor was wall-to-wall women in similar styles of dresses in every color. Including white. She’d disappeared as sure as Cinderella fleeing the prince. At least Cinderella had the decency to leave a clue behind so the prince could find her.
Then again, the prince didn’t have the luxury of having Cinderella’s cell number. Dillon pulled out his phone and pressed the speed dial for Alyssa, praying she picked up.
…
Alyssa stared down at Dillon from the balcony above the ballroom lobby. She’d managed to blend into the crowd and make it to the far side of the room to climb the sweeping staircase and hide out behind a large column. Her heart was beating faster than a hummingbird’s wings, and her stomach had twisted into so many knots in the elevator ride down that she didn’t think she’d be able to eat anything ever again.
How had everything gotten so screwed up? Nothing made sense anymore. She felt like Alice falling down the rabbit hole where up was down and down was up. Two days ago she’d been the one who wanted to convince Dillon they were meant to be together and he thought “relationship” was another word for Chinese water torture.
But now Mr. I’m-Always-So-Sure-of-Myself wanted to get engaged. Betrothed. Affianced. It was enough to make a girl…well, run and hide behind a balcony column.
It wasn’t until she heard her phone ringing in her clutch that she registered Dillon was holding his up to his ear as he continued to scan the crowd. She gnawed on her lip for two full rings before snatching it out and sliding her finger across the screen to connect the call. Only she didn’t know what to say. So she said nothing.