Felice
After another day of preparation, they ran out of time for more lessons. The night of the Gala came up on them quickly, making Felice shake with nerves. She quizzed her quiet bodyguard over and over again, making sure he remembered all of their rushed lessons.
The Gala came up on them, and before Felice knew it, then two of them were dressed and at the Foundation Building, ready for a long night of dancing.
Felice fluttered her eyelashes at another of the older gentlemen who bowed her way. While everyone was dressed in formal attire for the Gala, it was the older generation that really got into it. They kissed the ladies’ hands and curtsied or bowed to one another, like actors in an old-fashioned play. Felice liked the harmless flirting of the old men, not only because it made her feel beautiful, but also because of the half-serious, jealous looks that Pierce kept shooting their way.
With all of his tattoos covered and his sexy, muscled body wrapped in a very expensive and excellently-fitted set of tails, Pierce actually looked like he belonged here. He bowed and winked at the women, shaking hands with wealthy businessmen from all over the city like he belonged there. And Felice got to hang on his beefy arm like a jewel for everyone to admire. Men and women eyed them longingly from every corner of the ballroom, and Felice drank it in, her head reeling like she’d down half a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon.
Felice was happier than she’d ever been at one of these events, and she knew it had nothing to do with her new glittering dress, the absence of her mother, or the glass of wine she’d drunk on the way over in the limo; no, it had everything to do with her date.
She’d always gone with her brother to these types of events until she’d met Clay, then she’d gone with him. They were always dull partners, never wanting to chat about anything interesting or dance.
But Pierce was game for nearly anything, from nearly charming the pants off of every woman in the room to having polite discussions with the men. He was delightful, attentive, and pleasantly possessive throughout the evening, and Felice was aglow with the feeling it gave her. They had dressed up, she was going to pretend that Pierce actually belonged in her world. It made her happy to see him mingle so effortlessly.
“Of course, if the world continues to insist getting its news from social media and pseudo-news websites, we’re going to continue to have a problem,” Pierce said, his beautifully carved face intent and smiling. If he was even a touch nervous, he didn’t show an ounce of it.
“Here, here!” an older gentlemen, Baron Roderick, agreed. “Whatever happened to people reading the newspaper?”
Felice nearly rolled her eyes at Baron. Who on earth read the news from a paper anymore? The idea was positively medieval. But she smiled at him instead, blinking her huge, emerald eyes at him. “I can’t stand the smell of newspapers,” she answered after a moment’s pause. “My iPad doesn’t smell like it just came out of a press.” She giggled a little, playing up her silliness to take the edge off of the comment.
“I suppose you’re right, my dear,” Baron admitted, his wrinkled face glowing from a smile. “Did I hear right that they are auctioning off a real Jasper Johns painting from the 1950s?”
Felice smiled again, wrapping her arms closer around Pierce’s arm. She glanced up at him for just a second, to fill her eyes with the sight of him. He smiled down at her, his eyes glowing with something that turned her stomach into a butterfly exhibit. “It’s very real. I couldn’t believe it myself. It was donated as an item by Mrs. Beth Carey’s will when she passed away this year. Without her generosity, the Gala wouldn’t be quite so amazing this year.”
Everyone inside of their little circle bowed their heads for a moment in memory of the incredibly wealthy and generous Beth before conversation resumed. They chatted with that group for a little while longer before going over to refreshment table and selecting a few choice tidbits to nibble on. Felice caught Pierce swallowing an entire glass of wine in a single gulp; under all that charm, he must have been just as nervous as Felice felt for him.
“This evening has been so perfect, though.” Everything was going so well, and Felice couldn’t seem to keep her eyes off of Pierce for long. Everything else faded away when he was around, everything but the electricity between them that filled her belly with embers.
Caught up in the memories of the pleasure of his body and the more immediate pleasure of his company, Felice almost completely forgot about Clay.
But once she noticed him in the background, it was hard not to notice him again and again; his beady little eyes followed her all over the room. He sat alone, his date long since abandoned him for more lively company, drinking himself into a sloppy mess in the corner. Clay vacillated between looking like a kicked puppy and looking furious whenever Felice’s eyes found his corner again.
She thought she would feel vindicated seeing that look in his eyes. That she would feel warm and fuzzy at his obvious desire to have her back. But instead, she felt nothing. No regret, no pity, no remorse. Just a feeling of slight relief that he wasn’t currently part of her life.
But that wasn’t right, was it? Had Pierce driven Clay so completely out of her mind, body, and soul with merely his company and a couple of sessions of mindblowing sex? Was that all it took to forget someone you were hung up on? Pondering the mysteries of her own feelings, Felice didn’t notice as Pierce continued to stare her, his eyes filled with a soft and serene feeling that defied words.
# # #
Pierce
“This evening has actually not been a complete disaster.” Or at least based on the looks that Felice had been shooting him all evening it wasn’t. Pierce tried his best to remember to be charming and witty, leaving behind his old, crude life for this new one of glitter and manners. It was strange, talking to people about subjects Felice had just been teaching him mere days or hours before. He had several practiced lines he could throw in for any given conversation. Pierce felt like a telemarketer with a selection of canned responses at ready. It was hilarious that these parties were so predictable that Felice could share with him all of the conversations they would be having before they even had them.
Keeping his hands locked on Felice’s shoulders protectively, Pierce regularly surveyed the room, keeping in mind he was playing the bodyguard boyfriend angle. But it was sometimes hard to remember that he was just playing at this role instead of actually filling it.
Felice would look up at him with her big, doll-like green eyes lined with thick, black lashes and smiling like nothing else mattered in the world, and Pierce would forget whatever he was in the middle of doing. What was it about this woman that seemed to turn off the whole world around them like a lightswitch?
Pierce noticed Felice’s asshole ex, hovering at the edges of their conversations. He looked like a toddler who was envious of someone else’s toy. Pierce could feel his anger rising every time Clay looked at Felice like he owned her. Never in his life had he ever wanted to murder another human being as much as he wanted to kill Clay. But he pushed that urge down, keeping his hands on Felice instead of around Clay’s selfish little neck.
No, he wouldn’t ruin this night for Felice for anything. Keeping himself in check was hard, but he could manage.
And the light in Felice’s eyes was worth every second of it.
The night wore on and Felice’s brother, Matt, approached them. He’d managed to catch them in the middle of one of their rare moments outside of conversations with some of the other patrons. He had a stupid smile across his handsome face that Pierce didn’t like.
“I’m the brother, Matt,” he said, his face filled with a kind mischievousness that Pierce didn’t like. He was too old for the types of pranks he was playing; what grown adult bet his sister money over her newly broken heart? Not a kind one, Pierce thought as he inched closer to Felice.
“I’m Pierce,” he answered stoically, placing a protective hand over Felice’s shoulder. “You must be the fool with the deep pockets making bets with Felice.”
Matt laughed, a very unpleasant sound. “Yeah, man. And she got so worked up that she actually took the bait. And you are losing, little sis. Don’t forget it!” He walked away, smiling at everyone he walked by. There was no an ounce of empathy anywhere inside of that man’s body; he must have been one of the successful, ruthless psychopaths who make their money through the misery of others.
The bastard even walked right over to a very drunken Clay, smiling as he chatted with him, probably about the same thing he had with Felice.
Furious, Pierce had to bite down on his anger, keeping it in check even as Felice muttered curses under her breath in Matt’s direction.
Surprisingly, however, it wasn’t Matt or even Clay that managed to ruin the evening completely. No, that honor was reserved for Pierce himself, despite his best behavior and killer suit.
But despite Clay and Matt, the evening was going quite well. Until the cops showed up.
When the police entered the ball, people scattered to the walls like marbles rolling away, leaving the center of the Gala completely bare. Pierce stared them down, feeling his muscles tighten involuntarily, as if his body was preparing to flee without him. Felice clung hard to his arm, her fingers digging deep into the flesh of his elbow. But he barely felt it over the waves of horror that flooded him as the police swept the crowd with their eyes.
They were looking for him, he was sure.
Holding his breath, Pierce watched them as they looked from face to face, dismissing each before moving on to the next. It wouldn’t be long before they came to him.
“I almost forgot tonight that Felice’s world wasn’t meant to have men like me in it. I suppose this is my punishment for forgetting that I can never be part of her world with her.”
So when the police came forward, their hard eyes locked on him, his name on their lips, he didn’t resist. He didn’t fight them. But most importantly, he didn’t look back. He wasn’t sure he could handle the devastation on Felice’s face and the smirk he knew would be on Clay Patterson’s.