Page 89 of Delicate Storm

“From the bottom of my heart, thank you,” I say, ready for my moment to be over. “And that’s all from me. Hopefully we’re all on the same page and excited to—” Easton subtly raises an eyebrow and I stumble over my parting words. “Excited to donate. I’ll… ah… hand the floor back to… to… the band.”

Dammit, Easton.I don’t get nervous like that. I’m not the girl that struggles when a guy gives me attention. That’s not me.

When I get off the stage, I make my way through the crowd, head down, only looking up when a hand gently squeezes my waist.

Easton.

Without drawing attention, he subtly leans in, his palm scorching my skin, while I school my features, anticipating his words. “Your guests sure as hell better be on adifferentpagethan mine or there will be hell to pay.”

Jesus Christ.

He keeps moving as though the exchange never happened, while my entire body melts. And for the next two hours, I’m on edge. Twitchy. Hot with anticipation even though Easton doesn’t so much as glance in my direction.

Why the hell would I choose option two?I’m clearly crazy. He’s much better at keeping his cool than I am.

When the crowd gets loud and tipsy, I seek Easton out, finding him talking to a beautiful woman, and the sting of jealousy bites me. I laugh to myself as I shake off my thoughts. Christian and I used to play those games—purposely making each other jealous, increasing the tension until one of us got mad—then making up for it the second we were alone.

Easton and I don’t need the tension from jealousy. He has me wound so tightly I could snap at any moment just from thinking about what he’s going to do. Or when. How… God, what is he doing to me?

I glance his way again, and it’s obvious from his bored expression that there’s nothing between them. He’s not talking to her as a message to me. They probably work together. Nothing more.

It’s me he wants.

And it’s me he’s going to get, because as tense as I am right now, I’m his for the taking, his for whatever he wants to do to me. And he knows it.

I’m actually surprised by this side of him. I never would have expected it from my private football man. He’s always so guarded and—Wait…Myman?Jesus. He tells me I’m his—no, he tells me mypussyis his and suddenly I’m calling him mine.Bad idea, Paige.Tonight is about an addendum to our agreement. Nothing more.

Our lives haven’t changed. Easton still has his son. His sweet-natured little boy who I simply adore. And I still have my ownissues. One day the veil of my perfect life is going to be ripped away and the truth will come out. I’d never let my mess affect Easton, and more than that, I’d never let my mess lead back to Isaac.

Another hour passes and I’m talking to Amelia about the Storm TV show when one of the stars himself, Zane, swaggers over, a cheesy smile on his face, while I struggle to force one myself. I’m not going to pretend I’ve learned the names of all my father’s players yet, because I’m lucky if I know a handful of them, but I know him.

How could I not?On top of the fact that I’ve had three people warn me away from him, he’s also the cause of some of Easton’s pain. And I don’t like him.

“Ladies.” Zane bows his head as though he’s about to tip his hat and I roll my eyes. “How are you both?” he continues. “Amelia, it’s been too long.”

“What can we do for you, Zane?” Amelia keeps a smile on her face and her expression calm, not giving any of her thoughts or feelings away.

“I thought I’d come over and introduce myself to the woman of the hour. Amelia, do you know you’re in the presence of social royalty?”

Amelia shakes her head but laughs. “Speaking of royalty, if Paige is a princess, does that make her father the king? If so, it’s time for you to fall to your knees.” She points over Zane’s shoulder, drawing our gazes to the stage as my father, the king as she called him, takes his position, demanding attention with his presence alone. The lights dim as a spotlight bathes him in a glow, drawing the guests forward like sheep.

I follow, of course, but move to the side of the room, out of his line of sight, behind the masses. The last thing I want is for him to see me in the crowd and call me to the stage.

While I obviously don’t mind the spotlight, I’ve done my bit, and I’m currently too worked up to be coherent.

“Good evening, everyone,” Dad begins, and I hold my breath, nervous for the reception he’ll receive. It’s been four weeks since the general manager “resigned” on Dad’s request, and while the stories have died down in the media, he’s still receiving some pushback.

The room falls quiet and I sigh in relief, my shoulders physically dropping as some of the tension leaves my body. Some. Not all of it. Because the rest is attributed to Easton and it’s not going away until I discover his plans.

For all I know, he was joking, and he’s going to disappear after the speeches are done without a word.Wouldn’t that be torture?

“Thank you,” Dad continues. “We appreciate you all for coming tonight and raising money and awareness for this special cause. As Paige mentioned, Parkinson’s disease is a condition close to our heart and affects many families across the world.” I smile as I think about my grandfather, and send out a silent prayer that we can help others going through what he did. “We may not be able to work miracles, but we can do our bit through donations, and I’m blown away to announce that we’ve raised over a million dollars tonight.”

I clap along with the crowd while a sense of pride washes over me. I’m never going to move mountains, but if I can do my bit with the small luxuries I’ve been afforded then I’m happy.

“Before I get down to the specifics, I’m going to hand the mic over to Victoria Kate of The Wiser World Foundation to announce the winners of the door prize and big-ticket auction items.”

Knowing this is going to take a while, I close my eyes and sigh, letting my head fall back before rolling it from side to side, stretching out my neck.

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