Page 74 of Dating Goals
“Scout’s honor,” I say, holding up three fingers.
“And lose the blonde,” he adds, nodding toward where Anika disappeared. “This isn’t bring your girlfriend to work day.”
My stomach drops. “About that?—”
“He understands,” Elodie cuts in smoothly.
“Twenty minutes. East wing library,” Cain says curtly. He walks away without another word, his gold jacket glittering.
“See? Easy,” Elodie says, looking pleased with herself.
“Yeah, super easy,” I mutter. “Now I really need to find Anika.”
“We don’t have time,” Elodie insists. “We need to prepare.”
“I’m not going anywhere until I know she’s okay.”
Elodie sighs dramatically. “Fine. You have ten minutes. Meet me by the grand staircase after that.” She leans in, her lips almost brushing my ear. “Don’t be late, Griffin. This is your only chance to get what you came for.”
Just as I’m about to turn away, Elodie’s fingers tighten around my lapels, yanking me closer with surprising strength.
“Wait,” she says, her voice suddenly all business. “You can’t go in there looking like this.”
“Looking like what?” I glance down at my tux.
“Like you’ve been wrestling a bear.” She clicks her tongue disapprovingly. “Honestly, men have no idea how to maintain themselves at formal events.”
Before I can protest, she’s tugging at my jacket, smoothing invisible wrinkles. Her fingers snake around my neck, adjusting my collar.
“I’m pretty sure I look fine,” I mutter, trying to step back, but she’s got me locked in place like I’m caught in a face-off.
“Trust me,” she says, her voice all honey-sweet. “You’ll want to look like you belong in that meeting.”
Her hands move to my hair, nails scraping lightly against my scalp as she rearranges what I spent twenty minutes getting just right in front of the mirror.
“There,” she says finally, looking satisfied with her handiwork. “Now you look presentable.”
And then, quick as a snake strike, she leans in and presses her lips to my cheek.
“For luck,” she whispers.
“I think you’ve made your point,” I say through gritted teeth, finally managing to put my hands on her shoulders and create some distance.
The words die in my throat as I catch a flash of strawberry blonde hair across the grand ballroom. Anika.
She blinks rapidly, lips slightly parted, and even from here I can see the color rising in her cheeks. Our eyes lock for one excruciating second, and I see the exact moment her expression shifts from shock to hurt to something worse. Cold resignation. Like she always expected this to happen.
“Anika!” I call out, but the room is too big, and my voice is swallowed by the orchestra.
She turns away sharply, disappearing into the crowd. I push forward, not caring who I bump into, but the sea of people seems to close around her like she’s being swallowed whole.
Then, I spot her again, and my blood turns to ice.
Apparently, the universe has decided I haven’t been punished enough tonight because some slick-looking guy in a tailored suit has appeared at her side. He says something that makes her pause and then slides an arm around her waist and pulls her into a dance. His hand splays possessively across her lower back as he guides her across the floor, all smooth and calculating.
My vision goes red around the edges. Who the hell does this guy think he is?
Couples blur past me as I weave between them, keeping my eyes locked on Anika and Mr. Smooth Criminal. He’s leaning in close, whispering something in her ear. Her face is tense, unreadable. Is she enjoying this? Is she trying to make me jealous? Or is she genuinely into this guy?
