Page 61 of Ruled By Rivalry

I wasn’t sure I could.

“I didn’t tell you because I thought you might freak out.” His brows rose like I’d just proven his point. “You look perfect. I have no idea what any of the things you just said mean, but I can’t imagine there’s a way to make you look more beautiful. And if there is . . . God have mercy on me,” he added, lower. Then cleared his throat. “You’re okay. Okay?”

My loud sigh bounced off the tent to the side of the carpet, still hiding us from the masses of paparazzi and journalists outside. “I just hate being unprepared,” I admitted, voice now barely a whisper.

And like it was no surprise at all, he said, “I know.”

I leaned against one of the many poles keeping the tent upright, and Elliot followed without my having to say a word. Like he knew exactly what I needed from him, and where that meant he should be: no more than a foot away. Something familiar in the vast ocean of unknowns. By some miracle I couldn’t quite explain, my pulse did slow.

By the carpet, camera flashes went off, accompanied by wild yelling and shouting of This way! or Here! or Another one!

I looked back at Elliot. “And it’s smart? For us to go out there together?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“They’re going to talk.” That much was obvious.

“They always do.” And I wasn’t sure if his smile was sad or encouraging. A little bit of both, maybe? He’d come to terms with that reality a while ago. Probably had to. “Whether we get out there together or you go after me. Whether we emerge with three feet between us or holding hands. Whether I don’t look at you at all or passionately kiss you, they’re going to talk.”

“Don’t do that,” I warned, which made him smile. With a sigh, I glanced back toward the flashing cameras. “You really should’ve told me.”

“I’m sorry.” He smoothed my hair with one hand, kissed the tip of my nose more gently than anything he’d ever done before, then straightened back to his full six-foot-two frame. I might’ve been seeing stars. “Now will you believe me that, despite not knowing, you look like you’ve been preparing this look for a month? You look beautiful, Lucky.”

Rolling my eyes, I finally pushed off the wall. “Is my hair frizzy?”

“It’s perfectly straight.”

I took a step toward him to make sure he could see when I asked, “Mascara smudged?”

Which is how we’d ended up this way again: standing nose to nose, smiling and trying not to kiss. I think the only thing keeping our lips off each other was another bright flash startling us.

God knows where we’d be without the continuous interruptions saving us from ourselves.

“Nothing smudged,” he confirmed, then led the way to the carpet. Hand, of course, in the small of my back. The roaring from outside got louder. I couldn’t just see the flashes; I could hear the shutters. Their shouting turned into a ringing in my ear, dull and incomprehensible.

I thought if Elliot drew their attention first, I might be able to sneak by unnoticed, but we never got to test that theory. I felt the pressure of his hand on my back right up until we stepped onto the carpet. And it was like feeding hungry piranhas.

The second they caught a glimpse of Elliot, flashes went off, yelling got louder. His hand slipped off my back, squeezed my hand once, then let go.

I mouthed a Thank you, but wasn’t sure he even noticed in the hustle and bustle of it. Of photographers demanding his attention while journalists kept asking how much he wanted to raise. “Where’s Allegra Amato?” I heard one shout. Then, “Who are you with?!”

He ignored all of them until a guy in the first row, barely any hair left on his head, asked, with a relatively normal volume and respectful tone, “Who are you wearing tonight, Elliot?”

And even then, Elliot just gave a look that made the front row laugh. “Seriously, Robert?” he added, eliciting another burst of laughter before his hand was on my back again and he nudged me across the rest of the carpet and into the building.

The roaring in my ears quieted, my eyes adjusted to a lack of flashing lights, and I barely noticed Elliot being approached by three different people wanting three different things. Ran out of napkins. Can’t find Elizabeth. Issues with the guest list.

What I did notice, though, was the way he shook his head in their direction, then glanced at his security. Without a word, the man moved between Elliot and the people demanding his attention, keeping them from reaching him. Us.

“All good?” Elliot asked. The previous three minutes felt like a very distant fever dream. Had I been posing? Smiling? Waving? Or had I just been watching Elliot, too entranced and nervous to do anything else?

Where’s Allegra Amato? Who are you with?!

“Oh God.” My voice was probably three octaves higher than usual and more like a mouse squeaking than a human talking. Again, it seemed Elliot knew exactly what to do in that situation; took me aside instead of leading me down to the beautifully decorated venue. “I don’t even know what just happened.” The realization was a little scary. “Don’t remember a thing.”

“Very normal first carpet experience,” he said, amusement and understanding in his expression.

“You’re a pro.”