Page 29 of No Strings Attached
Nadine claps her hands to get the room’s attention.
“Everyone, this is Amira. She’s the wonderful event planner helping me with the New Year’s Eve party and will be joining us for dinner.”
A chorus of greetings follows, and everyone’s faces are kind, welcoming.
Except his.
Henson looks like he’s trying not to catch anyone’s attention and melt into the shadows.
My gaze then snags on his brother, Worth. I recognize him instantly from the media, business articles and countless gossip sites that love to track his extracurriculars. He’s definitely the face of the company. The playboy, always photographed at events with a different woman on his arm.
After everything Henson told me, about his anxiety and discomfort in the spotlight, it kind of makes sense. He’s not the brother plastered across headlines. He’s the one trying to stay hidden.
Worth looks between the two of us with narrowed eyes, his gaze lingering on Henson’s stiff posture for a moment before amusement flickers across his face.
As everyone gets settled at the table, he gives me a smile, a scheming one I don’t trust.
“Amira, come sit right here,” Worth says, patting the cushion beside him… of the empty seat directly next to Henson’s.
Henson’s scowl is instant, sharp enough to cut glass.
To avoid making a scene, I walk over and sit down. The cushion dips slightly, and I can feel the heat coming off of him, even though we’re not even touching.
Platters are passed, wine is poured, conversation flows.
And I’m sitting next to the man I spent the night with—whokissed every inch of my skin and whispered things that made my toes curl—pretending like we’ve never met.
Merry. Freaking. Christmas.
I smile as someone passes me the mashed potatoes, trying not to overthink the fact that Henson is close enough that our elbows brush whenever we move.
I should be focusing on the food, or at least the woman across from me who just complimented my sweater, but I canfeelhim next to me.
“Amira,” Worth says, his tone casual, “what made you decide to take this job? I mean, coming all the way to Nantucket over the holidays—that’s a big commitment.”
I pause, my fork halfway to my mouth.
There’s nothing malicious in his tone. Just curiosity. But it still makes something tighten in my chest.
“I, um…” I offer a demure smile, buying myself a moment. “I’ve always wanted to work on a destination event. The timing just lined up.”
Worth tilts his head, still watching me. “So you’re all alone? No family plans? No one you know in Nantucket?” His eyes flick to his brother.
Before I can answer, Henson cuts in. “Come on, Worth. She’s our guest, not someone you’re deposing.”
The table goes a little quiet.
My cheeks flush. I glance at Henson. His jaw is tense, eyes focused ahead, as if he’s trying hard not to glare at his own brother.
He didn’t have to come to my defense, but he did.
I don’t even think; I reach out and gently place my hand on his thigh under the table. A silent thank you.
The second I do, he twitches like I’ve lit a spark beneath his skin.
And then, just as quickly, his hand moves down and covers mine. His palm is warm, grounding. He squeezes once.
The simple gesture sends a rush of heat up my spine, settling low in my stomach.
