Page 16 of Theirs to Possess: The Marriage Claim
“—did you see how he looked at her?—”
The Houston elite are like sharks scenting blood in thewater, their polite smiles barely masking their hunger for scandal.
In the corner, I spot Dante Moretti again, this time deep in conversation with a man I don’t recognize. His eyes meet mine for a brief moment, and his smile sends ice through my veins.
My worst fear comes true when Dorian moves me toward the Mafia underboss. If rumors can be believed, he was the family’s enforcer before his father’s recent assassination.
“Mrs. Vale.” Respectfully he bows his head. “Quite a ceremony.”
He clearly has enough manners to leave it at that. “Memorable, wasn’t it?” I respond.
“Forgive the oversight. We haven’t been introduced. I’m Dante Moretti.”
I know who you are. And every part of me is screaming to get as far away from you as I can.“Nice to meet you.” I almost choke on the lie.
My husband releases me to shake the man’s hand, and I seize the opportunity to cradle the globe of my glass between my palms. Now he can’t hold onto me without making a scene.
Brennan glances away to hide a smile.
So he’s human after all. Does he know how to actually communicate? Or is he a Neanderthal?
Shocking me, Dorian places his fingers on the small of my back. His touch is possessive and electric, and sensation arcs through me, almost causing my champagne to splash out of my glass.
Unwanted, the recollection of the way he’d brought me off a few minutes ago sears my memory, and suddenly the room is closing in on me, making it impossible to breathe.
God.Holding his hand was much better than this.
“Everything okay, darling?” Leaning in, he slides lower to squeeze my ass.
I’m jolted, rising onto my tiptoes.
If anyone has noticed, they’re too polite to stare.
Frantically trying to school my features, I somehow manage, “Just…everything is so overwhelming.”
“Surprise after surprise.” He reaches over to thread a finger into one of my wayward curls.
The photographer appears like a ghost, camera in hand, her smile practiced and pleasant, and she captures the moment of fake intimacy. Obviously the bastard had known she was close by.
“Pretend I’m not here,” she instructs.
As if that’s possible.
She zooms in and out, recording every detail.
After he stops with the fake adoration, Dorian shakes hands with a man who joins us.
“Altair Montgomery,” he offers by way of introduction.
The man is a little pale, and his eyes are an unnatural golden color that give me the chills.
To avoid having to touch him, I lift my glass. “Happy to make your acquaintance.” My etiquette teacher would be so proud.
“Altair owns the Retreat,” Dorian explains.
“Ah. I see.” Since I’ve never heard of it, I keep my response noncommittal. “How very nice for you.”
Leaning down a little, speaking against my ear, Dorian educates me by adding, “It’s a BDSM club in downtown Houston.”
