Page 142 of Theirs to Possess: The Marriage Claim
I smile, my manners kicking in despite the flutter in my gut. “Thank you, Celeste. I’m just hoping we raise a ton for the literacy programs.”
“We’ll see to it.”
Then she leans closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “This crowd loves a cause they can brag about, and you’ve got them hooked. Those proposals of yours—teacher training, book drives—they’re smart. Lucian is talking about matching donations.”
“Is he?” I scan the room until I see him.
She lifts her glass to hide her wicked grin. “God knows he needs to rehab his tarnished image, especially after the latest rumor.”
Recently I heard he is known as Houston’s living nightmare.
Though Dorian angles his head, he doesn’t disagree with Celeste’s assessment.
“You’re genuine, Isla. That’s rare here. Keep it up, and you’ll have this city eating out of your hand.”
Dorian’s hand settles on my hip, his thumb grazing the chiffon, sending a jolt through me. “She’s more than I deserve.” His voice is low and possessive. And honest, shocking me.
Once we’re alone, we agree to split up, but I’m not sure how I’ll do on my own.
“We need to talk to as many people as we can,” Dorian says.
“I know.” I just don’t like it.
Brennan momentarily joins us, and he trails his fingers on the inside of my wrist. His touch is subtle, as reassuring as it is possessive, and his calluses rough against my skin.
My heart skips, their attention wrapping around me like a second skin. I’m theirs, and it’s terrifying how much I love it.
Flying solo, I stiffen my back and paste a smile on my face, like I learned in etiquette classes. And it’s easier than I imagined.
I geek out over Toni Morrison with a professor, pitch literacy’s ROI to a tech trillionaire, and I manage to charm a philanthropist into writing a six-figure check for the cause.
About an hour later, the crowd’s energy seems to shift, and I catch Dorian’s eye across the room. He’s talking to Lucian, his jaw tight, but his gaze locks on me, dark and hungry. My pulse races, heat pooling low in my belly.
Brennan’s nearby, never far from me, engaged in a conversation with Caleb Pierce.
Then Dante Moretti cuts through the crowd, grabbing my attention. His suit is sharp, his smile as cold as it was atthe wedding when he nodded to my father like they shared a dirty secret and he asked about my father’sside business.
“Mrs. Vale.” He dips his head in a gesture that is both smooth and calculated. “This is quite the event.” His eyes linger on my collar, then flick to Dorian, as if he knows something he doesn’t say out loud.
I force a smile, my voice steady. “Glad you think so, Mr. Moretti. We’re hoping to make a real difference.” My pulse races, but I hold his gaze, refusing to let him rattle me.
He leans closer, his voice a low purr. “Keep your husband sharp, Isla. He’ll need to be.”
The words hit like a warning shot, and I tighten my grip on my champagne flute. What the hell does that mean?
I open my mouth to press him, but Dorian’s already moving in, his presence cutting through the crowd like a blade. His eyes are locked on me, and their depths are burning with heat.
My body turns molten, anticipating his touch, the way he’ll make me forget the world.
As he reaches me, the jazz band pauses, and Irving’s voice crackles over a microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, a moment, please.” The crowd quiets, heads turning.
Dorian stops, his gaze flicking to the stage, then back to me.“Soon,”he mouths.
Irving gestures to Dorian. “Mr. Vale would like to say a few words.”
Capturing my hand, Dorian leads the way to a small platform, his confidence magnetic, drawing every eye. He takes the mic, his voice smooth but commanding. “Thank you all for being here tonight. Your generosity is transforming lives, putting books in kids’ hands, and building futures through literacy. But I’d be remiss if I didn’t thank the heart of this cause—my beautiful wife, Isla.”
He sweeps his gaze over me, and I’m lost in his eyes.
