Page 120 of Desserts for Stressed People

With a nod, he scans through the list.

My heart throbs in my chest. It’ll be so humiliating if my name isn’t on that list and I have to walk the red carpet backward and find a cab.

“I don’t see your name here. Wait a second.”

He turns around and motions at someone to come, and to my instant relief, it isn’t Shane. Might not be much better, though, because it’s Marina, who rolls her icy-blue eyes and looks up and down at my dress with faint disdain.

“Fourth Floor.”

“Hi,” I say, shuffling my feet. Should I ask her to let me in? Probably not. She’d get off on it, and I doubt that my begging would make her change her mind anyway.

“Didn’t you go back to your department?”

I have no alternative. It’s begging time. “This is my event too, Marina. Please.”

She tilts her head and shakes itno, but says nothing for a few seconds. Looking behind her, then at me, she groans. “Fine. She’s in.”

I could almost hug her as I follow her into the venue, and I think she can sense that because she halts and turns to me. “I am not doing it for your ridiculous relationship. Just because we need help.” She adjusts the trim of her dress. “Especially since Mr. Asshole has been anything but useful today. Dragging himself around like a zombie.” When I say nothing, she rolls her eyes. “And he involved me in his personal life, which is simply unacceptable. Asking me if he was making a mistake.”

I stare at her, my brows furrowing. Is she—she’s...helping me.

“What did you tell him?” I ask.

“That he wasn’t. That he’s much,muchhotter than you, and he’s better off with literally anyone else in the world.”

Or maybe sheisn’thelping me at all, the shrew.

“And that he never smiled as much since he met you. So if a poor decision makes him happy, maybe it’s not such a poor decision,” she adds with a glare.

I walk after her, and I don’t have time to analyze the whiplash I’m getting, because she’s already talking about what we need to fix, check and resolve. But when she asks me if I got it, I hug her, and though she stiffens, I don’t let her go.

Maybe she doesn’t like me, but I think she likes Shane. She has his best interests at heart. And that might be the only thing we have in common.

* * *

I don’t seeShane until one hour into the event. The location is that big, and there are too many people. And when I do, I almost collapse to the ground. He’s wearing his dark blue suit, the same color as my dress. I asked him to wear it tonight, and he did, though I wasn’t supposed to come.

As if called, his eyes move to mine. Directly. Enough to make me wonder whether he already knew I was here. After glancing down at my dress with his lips slightly parted, he grimaces and turns around.

Since yesterday, it’s happened a handful of times already, and every time, it kills me all over again. He looks at me like it’s all ruined, like there’s no going back. I guess it’s the same way I looked at Alex.

Ignoring the growing dread inside me, I put out fires all night, running from one side of the mansion to the other while Shane sits at his table and makes conversation with Therese and the group of clients.

He ignores me for the next few hours, but as I’m swallowing a couple of the appetizers in the kitchen, he appears by my side and drags me into the corridor. I’m forced to follow him, grateful that once again, he’s touching me, though it’s far from similar to the way he touched me before.

“So you just do what you want. Don’t you?” he asks as he halts and focuses his enraged gaze on me.

Pointing my chin up and straightening my back, I prepare for the upcoming battle. “I wasn’t going to let you bench me, Shane. I’ve poured my blood, sweat, and tears into this project. I deserve to be here.”

He looks away. “Who let you in?”

He’s not serious, is he? He won’t scold Marina for letting me in. How does he know my name isn’t on the guest list?

My jaw drops open. “Did you ask to have my name taken off the list?”

“I know you, Heaven,” he says, cocking his head to the side. “I knew you’d show up.”

What. An. Asshole.

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