Page 87 of Worth the Try
There are a few cars ahead of us when we pull up to the museum where the gala is being held, and I catch my breath. “Holy crap.”
Ansel chuckles, pulling a hand into his and kissing it. “You’ll be amazing.”
It’s far more than I was prepared for. It turns out that this gala isn’t just for the Granite. It’s also for the city’s pro football team, which means the amount of press and fans on either side of the red carpet is absolutely insane. People are ten-deep, lining the street and yelling as we close in. I crane my neck to see the people exiting in front of us and instantly feel underdresseddespite the way I’m decked out. I opted for a royal-green silk and chiffon gown that gave Bridgerton vibes and set my ample breasts on full display. At Kari’s insistence, and with Ansel’s credit card, I also rented a diamond and emerald necklace and earrings, and a diamond tennis bracelet. The entire process made me queasy, but the two of them practically bullied me into submission. Now, looking at the scene before me, I’m incredibly grateful.
We pull into position, and Ansel throws the car into Park. “You look absolutely stunning, Elodie,” he says. “I’m the luckiest man here.”
I smile softly. “You’rethe one who looks amazing.” He was mouth-watering in a form-fitting classic tux that had been perfectly tailored to him. “Though I do kind of wish I could see that tattoo,” I tease.
“I can make that happen.” He grins wickedly, then leans over to kiss my cheek. “Ready?”
I take a deep breath and nod. “Ready.”
He opens his door, and that cues the man on my side to open my door. The man holds his hand out, and I take it, my entire body breaking into a cold sweat. “Good evening, Miss,” he says, a bright smile on his face.
“Hi,” I gulp.
Cameras flash and voices yell, and I blink, temporarily blinded. I grip the man’s hand hard, then let go, horrified. “I’m so sorry,” I say, wincing.
Ansel appears on my other side, taking my hand and guiding me close, then tucking my arm into his like I’m his personal rugby ball. He smiles down at me. “You’re doing great.”
Hot tears appear immediately, and my knees are literally shaking. “I can’t do this,” I whisper, panicked.
“Look at me,” he says, his voice low and calm.
I obey, even though I’m hyper-aware of the cameras still flashing. Capturing everything.
“We will leave right now if you want to. But I know you, and you’ll be so mad at yourself if we do.”
A strangled laugh leaves me. “You’re right.”
His mouth quirks up. “Shall we?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the tears away as I nod. When I open them, Ansel is smiling softly at me. “Let’s do it.”
“That’s my brave girl,” he says. Then he smiles, all mischief and secrets. “I’ll be sure to eat your pussy extra well as your reward.”
I choke back a scandalized gasp as he turns me, and we step back onto the red carpet.
“Remember to smile.” He grins wolfishly down at me.
We walk slowly, stopping to pose every few feet. Any time I try to pull away so that the photographers can get a shot of Ansel alone, he grips me tight. Finally, we make it up the stairs, where one reporter stands.
“Ansel Miles,” she says with a bright smile. “Welcome to the City of Refuge Sports Gala.”
“Thank you.”
“And who did you bring with you?” she asks, her eyes lighting on me.
Ansel’s hand moves to my lower back as he answers. “This is Elodie Cole.”
I smile, hoping I don’t look as crazed and nervous as I feel. I swear, even my lips are shaking.
“Elodie, so nice to have you. Who are you wearing?”
I give her the name of the designer, and she turns back to Ansel.
“Word is that you’re being considered for the permanent coaching position for the Granite, Ansel. Can we expect to see you on the sidelines this season?”
