Page 46 of Igniting Sparks
That changes now.
I screech to a halt at the door of the welcome reception. About a hundred guests mill around the ballroom while servers glide past with trays of fancy hors d’oeuvres and top-dollar champagne.
I am so out of my element.
I dig my nails into my palms and face Braden, my teeth worrying my lower lip. “Do I really look okay? Is the skirt too short? Is it too low cut? Am I too much?”
“Hey,” Braden whispers, his hands gripping mine. “You are stunning, Mina. Trust me, every woman in this room wishes they were you right now. And every man…”
“Every man what?”
Braden presses a kiss to my cheek. “Wishes like hell he was me.”
This time, my smile is genuine.
Bring it on, Aunt Bitsy. I’m ready.
We meander through the room, spotting my aunt seated at a far table—a glass of champagne in her hand, my cousin and her perfect Wall Street banker boyfriend by her side.
Goody. Looks like my aunt has some fun family competition planned.
What am I doing? Why am I putting Braden through this? Why am I puttingmyselfthrough this?
If the upscale surroundings rattle Braden, he doesn’t let it show. I can only pray for a fraction of the confidence he exudes as he leads us straight to their table.
Braden nods at everyone in greeting before pulling out my chair. “Good evening, Bitsy. Vanessa. Nice seeing you all again.”
Then he turns to Mr. Wall Street and extends his hand. “We haven’t met. I’m Braden Hammond.”
“Trevor Grayson.”
Bitsy cuts into the moment, her eyes locked on Braden. “Trevor’s family is well known in Manhattan. He’s on the board of Grayson Industries—not that I expect you to be familiar with them.”
Only thirty seconds in, and my aunt has already called upon one of her favorite activities—name-dropping with a side of condescension.
Poor Braden. He didnotsign up to be treated like a second-class citizen.
Braden scratches his chin, pondering the man’s name as he settles into his seat. “Ah yes, Grayson Industries. Of course.”
Bitsy is enjoying her predatory game, a smug smile stretching across her face. “Do tell. What do you know about them?”
Braden glances around the table, and I’m certain he’s cornered.
Fuckity fuck.
“Defense contracts and clean energy investments, right? Solid portfolio.” He leans back, casual and confident. “Impressive work, man.”
Trevor nods, raising his glass of champagne. “Appreciate it.”
And just like that, I’m gone.
“How interesting,” Bitsy mutters, motioning to a server. “Two champagnes for my niece and her… fiancé.”
“Actually, I’d rather have a whiskey. Neat. Thank you.” Braden slides a fifty onto the server’s tray with a smile before leaning back in his chair and locking stares with my aunt.
Total power move on Braden’s part—and my aunt knows it. She tried to control him, and Braden quietly but effectively upended that notion and let her know, in no uncertain terms, that he was his own man.
Fuck, but that’s hot.
