Page 114 of Empty Net

Aside from my mother being the frigid woman she is, this party has actually been…well, nice. Sure, I’ve had to remind myself several times that it’s all for show, and soon, this fake relationship with Fox will be a thing of the past. I’ll go back to either being harassed by my mother or well on my way to becoming the bitter old woman she swears I’ll become, but it’s nice all the same.

Someone tugs on the back of my long, cream-colored dress, and I turn to find Flora, Hayes’s adorable niece, standing behind me. I bend to match her height.

“Well, hi. How are you, Miss Flora?”

“I like your dress, Ms. Lilah.”

“Thank you. Your dress is gorgeous, too,” I tell her, trying not to laugh at the pickle pattern dotting the fabric. “Did you pick it out?”

She nods, smiling softly. “Uncle Adam and Just Quinn took me shopping and said I could get whatever I wanted.” She points to Quinn and Hayes where they’re standing next to Lawson and Rory.

I don’t even think they realize they’re doing it, but her uncle and former nanny take turns casting glances over here to check on her. It’s cute. I know the little girl has had a rough life, but damn, is she loved now.

Quinn shoots me a wave, and I smile at her.

“There you are, you little turkey,” Lawson says, coming up behind her and tugging on one of her braids. “You were supposed to be stealing me a cookie, remember?”

“Stealing’s bad, Uncle Lawson!” she says through giggles.

“Yeah, but you’re all cute and shit. They don’t care if kids do it.”

“Go get your own cookies, Lawson,” Fox says, “and stop encouraging a life of crime.”

“What the hell else are kids for?” he grumbles, taking Flora’s hand. “Come on. Let’s go steal ’em together.”

The kid giggles again, and they scurry off to cause havoc. I push to my full height, only slightly worried about what’s in store for the dessert table. I’m sure Flora will keep him in check.

“Well, that was precious,” Bonnie says, her hand over her heart as her eyes shine with unshed tears.

“Mama…” Fox warns. “Don’t be getting ideas. You know this.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.” She nods, then sighs. “It’s just… Well, you two look so good together. And a mother has dreams for her kids, you know? She wants them to find love and happiness, and I swear I see that you…” She shakes her head. “Never mind. Just ignore me.”

Bonnie gives me a long look, then pats her son on the cheek before disappearing into the crowd of people I hardly know.

“Hey,” Fox says, his hand on my elbow. “I’m sorry about that. She knows our…” He peeks around to make sure nobody is listening in. “Our arrangement. I don’t know why she said anything like that.”

I shake my head. “It’s okay.”

But…it doesn’tfeelokay exactly. In fact, this whole party is starting to not feel okay. Like too much. Like the whole room is closing in on me. Like I can’t breathe. Like I might pass out at any moment.

“Whoa,” Fox says, grabbing my other elbow as I sway. “Lilah. Hey, hey.” He sets me straight. “You okay?”

I nod, but it’s not very convincing when it takes every ounce of energy I have to do so. Fox notices.

“Come on, sugar.” He wraps his arm around me and leads me away from the party, somehow knowing what it is I need without me saying a word.

Of course he does. He’s Fox. He always knows what I need without me telling him.

He tugs me into a small room that looks like a supply closet, pulling on a light hanging overhead, the bulb swaying back and forth, and the only thing I can focus on is how I haven’t seen a light like that in ages. My mother rented a big, fancy room at the top of a five-star hotel, yet the closets don’t even have proper lighting.

Fox sets his sparkling apple juice aside, then takes my untouched champagne from my hand and puts it next to his. Then he gathers me in his arms, pulling me close, my face buried against his chest until all I can smell and think of is him, him, him.

He rubs my back as I focus on my breathing, trying to calm myself. I think I’m having a panic attack, and I’ve never had a panic attack before. Why am I freaking out right now? Why am I having such a hard time?

“I got you, sugar,” he says softly, and it takes me back to the last time he said those words, when he was pounding into me, and I remember how good it felt to just let go. I want to let go like that again.

Suddenly my fingers are desperately moving against the buttons on his crisp white shirt. I need to touch him, need to feel him against me. I simply need him. I lean forward, pressing my lips to his chest, kissing the skin I’m exposing button by button. He groans as I kiss him, his fingers flexing tightly against my waist where they’ve fallen. I tug his shirt from his pants, then drop my busy hands to his belt, undoing it with ease.

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