Page 129 of Heart Strings & Hotlines
His right hand closes over mine that’s tucked into his left arm. Oh crap. I’m squeezing his arm so tightly I’m probably cutting off circulation. He applies just the right amount of pressure to make my grip relax, while his thumb brushes gentle strokes across the back of my hand, giving me something else to focus on.
“It’s…” I scan the room, frantically searching for my father, but before I make one full sweep of the space, Thane leads me through a service door we’re probably not allowed to enter.
“Talk to me, Charlotte. You’re pale, and if I remove my jacket, I’ll have half-moons clawed into my forearm. Are you regretting the dress now?”
“What? No. Never.”
“I knew that would be too easy. Then what is it?” He’s trying so hard to decode my expression, and I love him for it, but I doubt he’ll find anything.
“I haven’t been in the same room as my father in over a year.”
“He will be here.”
“I know. I…I know. I thought I was ready. I gave myself a pep talk for over an hour, but now that we’re here, it all came rushing back. The bastard is suing me, his own daughter, because I wouldn’t give him what he wants. Who does that?”
“A spineless coward. He won’t get to you tonight, Charlotte. I promise you that. I plan to be glued to your side so everyone in attendance knows you’re mine.”
My core clenches. My freaking vagina chooses now to turn in her feminism card.
Thane lifts a hand to my face and gently caresses my cheek with one knuckle.
“You’re here tonight to make a statement to the industry—and to your father—that you will not back down. Sebastian and I were able to finagle a couple of last-minute additions, so two of the only people he trusts at the Fitzgerald Group will be at our table. While we can’t make any declarations until the CEO is officially replaced, the optics of you with them will tell everyone everything they need to know. You’re about to become a major player, sweetheart. Don’t allow someone as spineless as your father to dull your shine. Do what you came here to do—put him in his place and make a name for yourself. I’ll be at your side every step of the way.”
“How do you do that?” I’m in complete and utter awe of this man.
“Do what?”
“Put me at ease so effortlessly?”
“That’s easy.” He graces me with one of his rare smiles. “I finally know my place in this world, and that place is here, with you. I don’t allow failure, Charlotte. If I hit opposition, I simply find a new way forward. My path has always been leading me to you, so if anyone, even your father, thinks he can stand in your way, I’ll build a bridge to climb over him and leave him there like the troll that he is.”
I wrap my arms around his middle, hugging him tightly and breathing him in. He’s my strength when I need it, and I’ll be the same for him.
“Thank you.”
“You never have to thank me, sweetheart. But if this can be considered brownie points that you remember the next time you purchase a dress, I’d really appreciate it.”
I laugh against him. “I’ll see what I can do.” I take half a step back and peer up at him through mascara-heavy lashes. “Do you really not like this dress?”
I swear his groan starts in his toes and builds until it finally releases somewhere in his chest. “You misunderstand. I love this dress when it’s for my eyes only. It’s knowing that strangers will see you in it that’s making any semblance of decorum impossible.”
Even in four-inch heels, Thane still towers over me, so I lift up onto my tiptoes and seal my lips against his. The kiss is gentle, loving. It’s a burst of confidence we could probably both use at the moment.
“You ready to take on the world?” His breath tickles my nose as he speaks. The scent of mint and ginger lingers in the air between us.
Linking my arm through his, I put on my best brave face. “I am. Let’s do this.”
“That’s my girl.” He holds open the swinging door for me, and we quietly reenter the ballroom.
As we make our way toward the front, people stop and stare, they whisper, some even point, but it’s not me they’re talking about. It’s Thane.
He moves gracefully, but his jaw ticks, so I know he’s not immune to the attention.
Right before we reach the table reserved for Wilder Minds and the Fitzgerald Group, a beautiful blond woman steps into our path with a young teenager at her side. Nervously, I look around the room. This isn’t the type of event children attend, but he stands handsomely in a tux, while his fingers march against his thighs as he stares at the floor.
Thane doesn’t spare the woman a second glance—his focus is rooted on the boy. Before my mind can spiral with wildly inappropriate thoughts about the child’s parentage, the woman holds out her hand to me.
“Hello, I’m so sorry to bother you. My name’s Winnie Westbrook, and we’re so excited to meet you. This is Weston. I don’t want to embarrass anyone, but Mr. Wilder, you’re basically his idol. Please don’t let my husband hear that though, it’ll crush him.”
