Page 65 of Caught in the Axe
I should be grateful to have this night with her. To be the one standing by her side as she blossomed.
This woman was going to take over the world, and I’d hold on to the knowledge that I played the smallest role in her journey. She’d do anything she strived for. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was running the Boston Cares Foundation someday.
It was a relief to be the one smiling and supporting tonight. All I had to do was stand by her side and let her shine. Funny enough, I’d be very happy doing that for the rest of my damn life.
Enzo and Delia had been placed at our table, along with two of Enzo’s sisters and their husbands. She bonded with Delia over their mutual love of old houses and charmed Amara with her encyclopedic knowledge of some television show I’d never heard of about teenagers in Southern California. She even suffered through thirty minutes of Enzo showing her photos of a robot he was building with Delia’s twins. At one point, she had the DiLuca sisters taking silly selfies and texting them to their kids.
We danced, we laughed, and we suffered through the speeches together. As Delia entertained us with a story about her brilliant twin daughters, Lila reached under the table and squeezed my hand.
This was it. The thing I’d been looking for. The feeling of contentment that came from being in her proximity.Usually, I was bored to tears at events like this. I felt like an idiot in a tux, and I had to make nice with a bunch of powerful people I wasn’t overly fond of. But tonight, I was having a blast.
With Lila, I danced and chatted and enjoyed every minute.
After she’d squeezed my hand, all I could focus on was her smooth skin and her curves in that dress, even as the rest of the table fell into a fit of laughter as Delia talked about her twins and how their lifelong goal was to control the robots of the world. So, in an effort to control myself, I headed to the bar to get my girl a refill.
“You should come to the game tomorrow.”
I turned at the sound of the voice and found Beckett Langfield standing next to me, slowly swirling his whiskey glass. It wasn’t a question. It was a command. Which wasn’t surprising, coming from him.
“Damiano is pitching. You haven’t been to the box in a while.” Langfield owned the MLB team here in Boston, and I’d been invited to watch a few games in the owner’s box before.
“I’m not sure,” I hedged.
“Bring your girl. It’s a casual thing. The kids will be running wild, as usual. And the weather is supposed to be perfect.”
I surveyed the table where Lila was deep in conversation. She sat straight, looking far more comfortable than anyone had the right to be in formalwear. Her legs were crossed, showing one creamy thigh through the slit of that purple dress.
When she threw her head back with laughter, it was as ifwe were tethered. The movement and the pure joy in her expression made my blood sing in my veins. Just seeing her across the room took away all the tension that had been weighing on me.
She turned and caught my eye, as if she could feel the way I soaked her in, even in a large ballroom filled with hundreds of people.
I didn’t turn away. I couldn’t take my eyes off her even if I wanted to. Was I a creep? Yes. But I was also desperate to soak up every moment with her I could get.
Beckett tilted his head and assessed me. Then he shook it and held up his whiskey between us. “You’re so fucked.”
I didn’t bother turning away from Lila. Yeah. I absolutely was.
He patted my shoulder. “Your VIP passes will be at will call. Don’t be late. First pitch is at one.”
Once Beckett had wandered back to his table, I composed myself and returned to my own, only to be dragged onto the dance floor. Holding Lila felt like heaven, and dancing with her in my arms easily topped it. The smell of her up close, the feel of her in my arms, was a high I’d never experienced.
I’d only just gotten my head in check at the bar, and, already, it was in the damn clouds again. So when the song ended, and before the band had moved on to the next, I excused myself. I needed a bit of distance before I did something stupid like kiss her, or worse, get down on one knee and propose on the spot. Because I was fully smitten. The excitement of the evening and the thrill of finally being back where I belonged were making me reckless and stupid.
“Are we going to talk about this?” Enzo asked, holding out a glass of whiskey as he sidled up beside me.
On the dance floor, Lila was dancing with a group of women to an acoustic version of a Rhianna song.
“You’re in love with her,” he said when I didn’t respond.
I did my best to remain stoic, even as pain lanced my chest. But this was my best friend.
It was no use even trying.
“No. I’m infatuated with her.”
He chuckled darkly into his glass. “Same thing.”
“Not even close.”
