Page 76 of Scheme
When Kit decided to care about someone, he really made them the whole focus of his attention, and he was kind and thoughtful andaddictive.
That was why tonighthadto be the end of it.
Technically, my nana’s birthday party tomorrow was the last event we’d discussed, but after today I’d have fulfilled my end of the bargain, and I planned on walking away. Walking directly into my nest, in fact, and not leaving until my stupid heat was over, probably weeping self-pityingly the entire time.
Once I emerged, Kit would see me for who Ireallywas, rather than the idealised version my pre-heat scent had given him the impression of.
And that would be that.
I pulled out my phone to switch it to silent, noticing I had a message from my sister.
Chelsea: Teddie Reid. He’s a private investigator, I found his business card in Mum’s purse.
Teddie. I frowned to myself as I turned the sound off, tucking my phone away. Where had I heard that name before?
We got to the front of the queue as I made a mental note to deal with that later, and I shed my lightweight coat, revealing the royal blue dress I was wearing that I’d bought a few years ago for a work gala. It was elegant rather than sexy, with a fitted top that scooped low in a tasteful way, and thin spaghetti straps to show off my shoulders. The skirt was more flowing, but with a long slit up the front that made it a little less ballgown, and a little more adult evening gown.
I’d purchased it with work in mind, but scanning the room, I realised that in Kit’s line of work, I could have absolutely gone for something more glamorous.
Though, with his dark blue shirt, we’d inadvertently colour-coordinated, and that made my silly little omega heart happy.
“You look…” Kit swallowed, shaking his head slightly. “Unreal. I don’t even have words. Fuck, I wish I had my camera.”
“Do you?” I asked, eyebrows shooting up. Kit didn’t photograph people, as far as I knew.
Also, while I looked good forme, I wasn’t under any illusions. The woman in the red dress, whose flask was half sticking out the top of her tiny clutch, looked like an actual supermodel.
Kit hummed, his slow perusal pausing at the slit that ended just above my knee. “Will you wear this again for me?”
No. I can’t see you again after tonight. Or at least not until after my heat has passed. I need space from you, or I’ll drive myself crazy.
I opened my mouth before closing it again, giving him a tight-lipped smile that he obviously took as acquiescence. Tonight was a big deal for Kit, and I wasn’t about to burden him with my problems.
“Shall we go in?” I asked, wrapping my arm around the crook of his elbow, partly for the comfort of having him close, partly because my shoes were ludicrous death traps that I’d only purchased because I was vain.
“I suppose,” he sighed, pulling me a little tighter to his side.
The ballroom of The Ellis was beautiful, in a generic, swanky hotel kind of way—all dark red patterned carpet, cream walls, and gold chandeliers. Round tables had been set up in the centre of the room with tall floral centrepieces, and there was a makeshift gallery along one side of the room that I was particularly eager to get to.
“That’s Aaron Tempest’s younger sister, Emily,” Kit said, tipping his chin toward the woman in the red dress, who’d given up trying to conceal her hip flask and was instead clutching it like a purse. “She’s nominated in the Fashion and Beauty category, I believe.”
“What a cool family,” I murmured, staring for a fraction longer than was polite to see if Emily had any family resemblance to her movie star brother. “Maybe he’ll show up tonight to support his little sister.”
Kit looked mildly offended that I’d even suggested it. “I hope you’re not planning on trading up your date if he does.”
“So sensitive,” I teased, gently poking him in the side. “You’re not still sore about my intense physical reaction to that movie, are you?”
“That wasnotwhat you were reacting to,” Kit grumbled, though his eyes were flashing with mischief. “In fact, I distinctly remember you clarifying as much at the time. Now what were your exact words… I believe the phrase ‘many litres’ was involved—”
“Stop talking,” I laughed, poking Kit’s ribs a little harder this time, before he started waxing poetic about my ‘litres of slick’ in mixed company.
“I rest my case,” Kit said, looking altogether far too pleased with himself.
“This really is quite the elegant crowd,” I said quietly as we wound through the tables, taking in the small groups mingling around the room. Some of them had very distinctive bohemian artiste vibes, but far more looked like the kind of monied types that I encountered at the charity events my firm hosted to shiny up their reputation.
Kit snorted. “Lots of wealthy patrons of the arts. This night is more for their benefit than ours—they get to show off which starving artists they’ve beneficently adopted.”
“Do you have any benefactors? Any rings that need kissing tonight?”
