“I’m certain there was a lot more material when I picked this out,” he says when I reach his side, his mischievous gaze lifting to meet mine.
“You’ve got great taste,” I reply with a chuckle, ignoring how delectable he smells as I lean forward and kiss his cheek.
Dixon wraps an arm around my waist and draws me close. “Might I propose you borrow my jacket?”
“Whatever for?” I ask, gasping as he runs his nose lightly down my cheek and into my neck.
“So I’m not forced to gouge out the eyeballs of every male in this place,” he teasingly replies, his warm breath causing my skin to break out into tiny goosebumps. “But gouging aside, you look beautiful. Although, anything you wear looks stunning on you.”
I flush at his comment and turn into him, nuzzling into his embrace. The innocent action has Dixon growling low in his throat and tightening his hold around my waist.
“There they are,” a voice says, which has me pulling back, embarrassed to be caught out in such an intimate pose.
However, Dixon looks anything but embarrassed when I meet his heated stare. He gives me a quick once-over before addressing Chad. “Here we are.”
“You look positively stunning, Madison,” Chad says, his eyes lingering on my boobs.
I redden and turn to look at Dixon, who shrugs with an, “I told you so,” look on his amused face.
“Thank you, Chad,” I reply, my bashfulness obvious as I subtly cross my arms over my chest.
“You look…lovely, Rebecca,” Dixon says with a pause, and I wonder what he really thinks of Rebecca’s outfit, which resembles lingerie.
“Thank you. You look lovely, too,” she purrs, cocking out her hip, not concealing the fact she’s checking out Dixon.
A wave of jealousy overtakes me, but I smile and hold back my homicidal urges.
“Shall we?” Chad suggests, oblivious to the fact his fiancée is eye-fucking my “boyfriend.”
Pretend or not, I see Dixon as mine, and I know tonight is going to be a lot harder than I originally thought.
“Let’s,” I say in concurrence with Chad as I loop my arm through Dixon’s.
As we make our way toward the ballroom, all I can think about is the way Rebecca looked at Dixon. I played nice with her because I know how girls like her operate. If you stroke their already impossibly huge egos and not come across as a threat, then most times, they are happy to be friends because they have the upper hand. But tonight, all dressed up and being on the arm of Dixon, the man she wants, she sees me as competition.
Well, game on.
Just before we enter, Dixon leans down and kisses the shell of my ear. “Thank you for remembering to wear clothes.” I burst out laughing, which is exactly what I needed to calm the nerves.
“Anytime. But it’s all thanks to you,” I reply, my breath catching in my throat as he lays a single kiss along the arch of my neck. “If it weren’t for this dress, I would be nothing special.”
Dixon pulls away, a look of horror on his face. “That’s not true.” Placing a hand on my cheek, he smiles. “You don’t know how special you are.”
His sweet words have me turning into his hold and nuzzling into his hand. “Thank you,” I whisper, raising my eyes to meet his.
This shouldn’t feel so natural, but it does, and the thought of this being our last night together hurts. But Dixon said it’s all or nothing, and my fragile mind can’t give him my all until I get back to New York and confront my past.
Dixon must be able to read my thoughts because he says, “Even though you’re mine for only one night, I’m going to make it the best night of our lives.” He lays a single kiss on my lips before pulling away.
He looks unruffled as we enter the lavish ballroom, and all other thoughts get put on the back burner as I take in the beautiful sight before me. The room has been transformed into an elaborate affair, and waiters are zipping around the room, ensuring all seated guests have full glasses, while others are escorting patrons to their tables.
A waiter happily greets us and flicks through his iPad to see where we are seated. Thankfully Dixon amended the arrangements and I’m his plus one. I can’t help but wonder who his plus one originally was, as Chad mentioned they had pulled out at the last minute. Was it supposed to be the girl he was seeing when we first met? The thought has me shuffling uncomfortably, and Dixon slides his hand down my back, resting it above my ass.
“Are you all right?” he whispers as we begin walking toward our table.
“Fine,” I reply, but I’m anything but as I see the head of almost every woman in the room turn to look at Dixon.
Women of every age group are currently checking him out, some a little more discreetly than others, but overall, I have a room full of Rebecca's I now have to fight off.
The waiter stops at a table near the front, and as Dixon pulls out a seat for me, I know I’m the envy of the room. Ignoring their scowls, I take a seat and shakily reach for my glass of water when Rebecca sits next to Dixon.
I eye the bottles of wine in the middle of the table, wondering if it would be considered rude to make a dive for them and get into the booze early. But looking around the room and seeing the jealous stares of every beautiful woman present, I ignore etiquette and reach for a bottle of red.
“Here, let me,” Dixon offers, his fingers overlapping mine, beating me to it.
I pull back, my flesh singeing, but try not to make a big deal over it, and smile.
As I down my entire glass, I can feel Dixon watching me, but I ignore him and distract myself by looking around the room. The people here are powerful and important, and I wonder what they did to get to where they are. I have no doubt some worked hard, but with others I wonder who they slept with, or who they stabbed in the back to become the influential players that they are.
Two couples take a seat at our table, and thankfully the ladies are old enough to be Dixon’s grandmothers and smile politely when introductions are made. From what I can see, these people are very high up in rank, and all of the men, minus Dixon, are on the psychiatric board. But that might soon change because by the way they’re zoning in on Dixon, they are very interested in what he has to say.
“So, Dixon, Chad tells me you’ve got some interesting material for us to read over,” Fletcher, the older gentleman with salt and pepper hair, says.
Dixon coolly smiles, reaching for his wine. “Well, Chad is really too kind. But I would be absolutely honored for you to read over my work and to hear your thoughts.”
“You will be amazed,” Chad says in confirmation. “His findings are true brilliance, and although a little unorthodox, his reasoning is totally justifiable.”
Dixon appears completely unruffled by the table singing his praises, but as he lays a hand on my knee and squeezes lightly, I know he’s squirming in his seat in excitement. I look over at him and smile, and he returns the gesture, beaming from ear to ear.
Halfway through our main meal, I’m certain I’m about to gag on my lamb as the hundredth woman for the evening comes to our table to talk to Dixon. This has been going on for the past hour and a half, and up until now, I’ve tried my best to remain calm, but now I’ve had enough.
Dixon is either oblivious or blind to their deliberate flirting, but I most certainly am not. Their lingering or unnecessary touches have not gone unnoticed by me, and Rebecca seems like a puppy dog compared to these vultures.
Dixon has introduced me to everyone, but he has failed to mention I’m his “girlfriend,” leaving who I am open to interpretation. Rebecca has picked up on this fact, and decides now is a good time to address why that is.
“Madison, how long have you and Dixon been together?” she innocently asks, but I know there is nothing innocent about her question.
I shuffle in my seat, my eyes flicking to Dixon, who pauses talking to the bouncy blonde by his side. I bite my lip and realize we really should have worked out a credible story before we went ahead and pretended to be lovers.
“Um…” I reply, appearing as if I’m calculating the time in my head.