Page 94 of Pretty Wild

As I approach the stage, Ryan says, “Thank you all, again, for coming this evening. Please enjoy the champagne and hors d’oeuvres and the—” She stops talking, her eyes landing firmly on mine. Those gorgeous brown eyes register shock as she gapes down at me from her position on the stage. “Band,” she finally finishes, clearing her throat. “Thank you,” she adds, earning a round of applause.

The ladies stay up on stage, taking a few photographs. In between each one, she looks my way, as if trying to gauge whether or not her mind is playing tricks on her. I stand back, letting her have the spotlight and soak up all the attention she’s receiving. She’s earned this and deserves every bit of it.

Finally, after taking what feels like a thousand photographs, she excuses herself and heads in my direction. I can’t help but notice the slight tremble in her hand as she reaches out and grabs the railing, descending the four steps on the side of the stage.

“Marcus,” she whispers when she stands directly in front of me.

Reaching out, I grab her hand and bring it to my lips, placing a gentle kiss on her knuckles. I can’t help but notice the way she shivers at the featherlight touch. “You look absolutely breathtaking,” I tell her, noting the swell of her breasts and the way her breathing hitches in the red strapless dress.

“Thank you.” She clears her throat, glancing around. No one seems to be paying us any attention. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to tell you something.”

Her eyes widen. “Really? Now?”

“It couldn’t wait any longer,” I insist, reaching for the tie and giving it a gentle tug.

She notices my action and smiles. “You’re wearing a tie.”

I nod once. “It was the dress code.”

She looks around, as if taking in the suits, tuxedos, and fancy dresses around the room. “Yes, I suppose it is.” Her eyes hold so much confusion, yet I catch a glimmer of hope reflecting back at me. “How did you get in?”

I glance over her shoulder and smile. “They helped me.”

Ryan turns and finds her parents standing across the room, watching. I have yet to meet them, but I spoke to her mom on the phone when I came up with this idea. She was positively gleeful with excitement and insisted on helping me set my plan into motion.

“My parents?”

I nod, reaching for her hand and pulling her toward the side of the stage. With the band now playing, it’s a little more difficult to have a private conversation. Of course, we’re standing in the middle of the ballroom, smack-dab in the center of her celebration event. “I called your mom.”

Her pink lips part as her mouth falls open. “You called my mother? How?”

I chuckle and shake my head. “Believe it or not, it wasn’t that difficult. I tried to reach your father first, but I quickly discovered it would probably have been easier to speak to the President of the United States on the phone than Douglas Marcotte.”

She grins.

“Your mom’s email address was listed on the website for the charity she runs, so I reached out to her. She called me back within an hour.”

“Wow,” she murmurs, as if trying to process that bit of news.

“She helped me get a ticket to tonight’s event so I could tell you face-to-face what I’ve been needing to say.”

“And that is?” she asks. I’m pretty sure she’s holding her breath, and she wouldn’t be the only one.

It’s now or never.

“I love you.”

27

RYAN

“You what?” I ask, sure I’ve misheard him.

“I love you, Ryan,” he says, reaching up and brushing his thumb over my cheekbone.

I’m still struck stupid by his unexpected presence here, so I’m having a hard time processing his words. It doesn’t help he’s wearing a suit that makes him look both delicious and completely uncomfortable.

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