Page 21 of Arranged To Be Mine

“You look very nice,” I said and immediately wanted to kick my own ass. No woman wanted to look nice when she was dressed like that.

“Thank you.”

“You look beautiful, not nice.”

She looked surprised and uncomfortable at the same time. “Thanks.”

I opened the back door for her. She slid into the back seat. I walked around to get in on the other side. The driver pulled out and we headed toward the hotel.

The silence stretched between us. I watched her fidget with the small clutch in her lap, adjusting it unnecessarily. Her posture was rigid, shoulders back, spine straight. Even sitting in a car she looked like she was ready for battle.

“You nervous?” I asked.

“No.”

“Okay.”

She shot me a look. “I’m not nervous. I’m just preparing myself.”

“For what?”

“For whatever hell you’re about to throw me into.”

I laughed. “It’s a charity gala, not a firing squad.”

“Same thing.”

“My family will be there,” I said. “A safety net.”

“I don’t need a safety net.”

“They’ll be there anyway. Fair warning, though. Blackwells are huggers. We treat everyone like family even if we just met them five minutes ago.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “You’re joking.”

“Not even a little bit.”

“I don’t hug people I don’t know. I don’t hug people I do know.”

“You might want to work on that.”

She looked genuinely alarmed, which I found oddly endearing. She wanted to run a multi-million-dollar company without breaking a sweat, but the thought of physical affection from strangers had her looking like she wanted to throw herself from the moving car.

It was cute.

“Relax,” I said. “No one’s going to force you to hug anyone. Just try to look like you’re having a good time. Smile. Make small talk. Act like a human being.”

“I am a human being.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

She glared at me, but I caught the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Progress.

We arrived at the hotel and walked inside with a small crowd of others dressed for the event. The ballroom was already packed with people in evening wear, champagne glasses in hand and soft music filling the space. Photographers lined the entrance, cameras flashing as guests arrived.

“Breathe,” I murmured as we walked inside.