“He’ll wait,” he says as he enters my house and shuts the door behind him.
Running off back to my bedroom, Saxon laughs. “Do you need a hand getting dressed?”
Ignoring his smart-ass comment, I go into my bedroom and grab my dress, stepping into it and doing up the side zip. It’s an emerald-green chiffon number which has a gathered strap over one shoulder only and pinches around the waist to then fall down to the ground, a slit up to my left thigh.
Sitting on my bed, I slip on my gold heels. Not caring how late we are, I sit and admire how beautiful they look. I‘ve always loved heels, and now having to work in them every day and going to all these functions I can actually walk in them too.
I quickly throw my powder, lipstick, license, and credit card into my gold clutch and grab my jewellery on the way out of the bedroom. As I reach Saxon I’m sliding my wedding rings into place and his eyes follow my actions.
“Can you put this necklace on for me?” My question pulls his eyes up to mine, and I can tell he is thinking hard about something. His brows furrow in thought.
He looks at me with a blank expression, and I assume he hasn’t registered my question. I hold the necklace out to him, and he retrieves it from my hand. Turning around, he understands my signal and reaches around the front of me to place the necklace around my neck.
Once he has secured the clasp he rests his hands on my shoulders and gives them a small squeeze. It’s a platonic gesture, and I smile at the friendship we have built.
Before I can turn around and usher him out his warm lips land on my bare shoulder. I freeze at the contact.
He places a few light kisses up to my neck and a shiver rolls through me. “You look beautiful, Brooke,” he whispers, his warm breath flowing over the sensitive spot under my ear. “Well, you always look beautiful, but tonight you look stunning.”
“Thank you,” I whisper. I’m unable to piece more words than that together as his warm kisses and soft touches linger in my mind.
He runs his hands slowly down my bare arms before kissing me one last time on my shoulder. I’m left in shock as he quickly grabs my hand and begins leading me to the front door.
We chat the whole way to the gala as if we didn’t just have a moment at my place, talking about random stuff as well as the who’s who of tonight’s gala. Saxon gives me the ins and outs and tells me what and who to avoid. He always gives me a great rundown before any event, and I don’t think I’ve ever told him how much I appreciate it.
We pull up to the undercover drive-through in front of the hotel and the doorman opens the limo door for us. As Saxon slides over to step out I place my palm on his thigh, halting him. He turns back to look at me, concern and confusion on his face. “Thank you,” I tell him. “Thank you for everything.”
He gives me a soft smile with a nod and steps out of the limo. Sliding over, I grab his offered hand as I go to stand. He places my hand in the crook of his elbow as he holds it and leads me into the hotel.
We head straight to the elevator, and it’s times like this I’m thankful for his controlling, assertive and protective ways.
Saxon always stays by my side and never leaves me to fend for myself. He always gets my drinks and food and includes me in conversation he knows I’m comfortable with and steers conversation away from me when I’m not.
As we ride the elevator up to the fifth floor I squeeze his arm, and he lightly pats my hand. It’s comforting, and I can’t help but smile at him in the mirror reflection of the elevator.
Who would’ve ever thought Saxon and I could become this close? That I would come to rely on him so much? Not just to fill my physical needs or to support me with the business, but filling my emotional and intimacy needs as well.
Exiting the elevator into a foyer there is a small bar to the right and large double doors ahead of us. There are quite a number of people milling around. Saxon leads us to the double doors and as we step in I can’t help but gasp.
It’s the most beautiful ballroom I’ve ever been in. Straight ahead there is a huge stage with what looks like a ten-piece band. At the moment only a few of them are playing classical music, but there are many other instruments waiting for others to play later. Excitement takes over as I see an opportunity for dancing, slow dancing, which I love.
Glancing further around the room there are twenty-plus round tables surrounding the dance floor, which is in front of the stage. They are covered in crisp white linens and the finest cutlery and crockery. Huge gold candelabras adorn the centre of each table.
I glance up, trying not to make a scene, but the ceilings must be at least forty-feet tall and are supported by huge gold columns. The right wall is glass foldaway doors leading onto what I assume is the balcony.