Page 51 of Crocodile Tears
It took me several seconds of gaping at her before I realized someone was speaking to me.
“What?” I turned and found Ivy Blanc standing there, her hand on her hip, looking annoyed.
“I said, are you ready for the carpet?” she grumbled, wringing her rhinestone-studded clutch in her hands.
“Ivy, I . . . didn’t know you were going to be here? I’m walking the carpet with Dove,” I said, confused.
Zeke jumped in and clapped me on the shoulder. “We want you and Ivy to be the canoodling costars for your new movie,” he announced. “The trailer is about to drop. Stick to the plan, remember?”
I glared at Zeke before I looked back at Dove’s too-wide eyes. She stepped back an inch, as if she didn’t want to interrupt the conversation, a mixture of fear and disappointment on her face.
No, nope, absolutely not. I’m not going to throw her to the wolves and make her handle this treacherous obstacle course solo. And there’s no way I’m letting her hang on the arm of any other guy tonight besides me, because she’s mine.
She’s always been mine.
“Ivy,” I said cooly, holding my anger in check. “I am so glad you were able to attend this fundraiser.”
“Like I had a choice,” she muttered.
“But the focus of this event is on the charity.” I gave Zeke a look that told him if he meddled a second longer, I’d fire him. “So I will be walking the carpet with the charity director as intended.”
I stretched out a hand to Dove and she gratefully took it. I wrapped her hand over my forearm, escorting her through the room as she wobbled on her high heels. She smelled amazing, like she’d been spritzed with a rich French perfume. Everything in me eased when she was finally by my side again.
“I look better on my own anyway,” Ivy huffed, bristling as Dove and I walked past her. “It’ll look cute in the press, you with her,” she added, looking Dove over with disdain. “Deacon Harrow, two-time Sexiest Man Alive, with the doe-eyed charity case.”
I could see Dove shrink an inch at that statement and it incensed me. Normally, Dove would’ve had something sharp-tongued and pointed to spit back, but this snake pit was one she didn’t know how to navigate . . . unlike an actual snake pit which she’d probably love. But if she could save me from literal crocodiles, I could save her from Ivy Blanc.
I debated all kinds of retaliation, but instead, I just simply guffawed. “You really are a spiteful bitch, aren’t you, Ivy?” I asked in a mocking tone. “I know your breakup stung, but maybe consider your target a little more carefully next time. You just called the most beautiful woman in the room a charity case.”
I walked Dove down the hallway and out into the open foyer, leaving Zeke to rush in and apologize to Ivy on my behalf. I really didn’t care. Too many people in my life now thought that they could talk down to everyone and anyone and I couldn’t stand it.
“Thank you for that,” Dove murmured.
“Ivy is just miserable and wants to make everyone around her miserable too,” I gritted out.
“But you don’t need to lie for me,” Dove added. “She’s a freaking supermodel.” I raised my eyebrows, halting us, and Dove teetered on her high heels at the abrupt stop. “What?”
I pointed to the giant gilt mirror hanging in the entryway. “Look.” She glanced at our reflections before quickly looking away. “I wasn’t lying.”
“That is very sweet,” she murmured, eyes darting everywhere but the mirror. “But there are like ten of the most beautiful women in Hollywood going up and down that hallway right now. And I really don’t care. I have no desire to be the most beautiful woman in the room. That sounds daunting and awful.”
“I know you don’t, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s true.”
She shot me a look. “How many drinks have you had?”
I held my hand to my chest in mock offense. “One glass of whisky.”
I turned her fully, standing behind her so that she had no choice but to stare at our reflections. One hand snaked around her waist to her lower abdomen, and I thought about how dangerously close my fingers were to that slit in her dress, how easy it would be for me to dip them underneath the fabric and touch her. I swallowed thickly as she and I stared at our reflections.
“Deacon,” she whispered, and the sound of my name on her lips made me ache. “You don’t need to prove anything to me.”
“Tell me you don’t look beautiful,” I insisted. “Tell me you aren’t the right person to have on my arm tonight. Ivy and I don’t make sense even in works of fiction. Tell me you and I don’t look perfect together.” I leaned down, my lips caressing the lobe of her ear as I whispered, “But you won’t because you know it’s true.”
She shuddered at the rush of my breath against her ear, turning her head ever so slowly toward me, her full red lips only a hair’s breadth from my own. And I wanted to tell her then, tell her all of the secrets of my heart?—
But then Zeke came barreling around the corner, clapping his hands like a football coach. “Right, D-money, your audience awaits.” He paused, rubbing his hands together. “Deacon and Dove.” He chuckled to himself. “Double D-money tonight.”
“Thank you for ruining a perfectly nice moment, Zeke,” I murmured only loud enough for Dove to hear. I straightened and extended my arm out to her again. “Ready?”
