Page 44 of Fourth Base with the Alpha
“And most of the beach,” Isabella mutters.
“Come on,” I tell her, climbing out of the car and handing my keys to the valet waiting out front. Music wafts from somewhere behind the giant, white-washed building as well as the voices of many people talking and laughing and the splash of water. It sounds like the party is in full swing.
I walk around to Isabella’s door and open it for her, offering my hand and helping her out of the car. She’s dressed in another sundress, this time a deep red, and sandals are strapped to her feet.
“Are these sensible shoes?” I ask her, examining the strappy concoctions.
“No! But I’m not turning up to a party like this in ugly shoes.”
“I just think you like the idea of me carrying you everywhere, Cupcake.”
“No comment.” She grins and I want to bundle her up over my shoulder and carry her straight up to one of the many bedrooms.
I swing my eyes to the house, reminding myself once again that this is a fake-date, not a real one. If I tried that shit, I’d probably receive a well-deserved slap.
Holding her hand, I stroll towards the huge entrance, the doors thrown open, revealing a large reception area and then a sitting room and the terrace where the party is happening beyond.
Isabella tugs on my hand.
“Just give me a minute will you.” She smoothes down her dress and combs her fingers down her loose hair.
“You look beautiful,” I tell her, meaning every Goddamn word.
“How about my teeth?” She yanks back her lips. “Any lipstick on them?”
“You’re all clear.” I pause. “How about me?” I copy her facial expression and she giggles.
“All clear.”
“You don’t need to be nervous, Isabella.”
“I hate it when people say that. Like it’s something you can control, flick a switch and the nerves will be gone.”
“It is something you can control if you want to. Just breathe. Deep inhales and exhales.”
She glances up at me, and hesitantly takes an inhale. Her pupils widen as she does and her lips part gently.
Shit, she looks …
I snap my gaze away and march her through the house and into the party. There are at least fifty people here. Several from the record company, some of their top signings; a film star whose name I can’t remember, and a handful of actors from a new sitcom that’s all anyone is talking about.
“Oh my God,” Isabella whispers to me. “Is that Josephine Black? And Danny Gothman? He’s stunning.”
I follow her line of sight towards the man with a baby face standing in a circle of adoring onlookers. I suppress a growl and lead her in the other direction. A bar has been set up with waiters serving cocktails and someone is DJing music on a raised stage which I’m sure Jessie will claim later. A few people are bobbing about in the guitar-shaped pool and beyond them waves crash on the fine white sand.
“Hunter!” I hear Ash call from my left and we find the band sprawled over several chairs.
“Isabella!” Layla cries, jumping up from Ash’s lap as we approach, and dragging her into two empty chairs.
I stare down at my bandmates, who stare up at me from behind their sunglasses and then over towards Isabella.
“I’m going to get a drink,” I tell everyone, “Isabella, what would you like?”
“Surprise me?” She grins.
When I return later with a mojito and a bottle of beer, Isabella is sitting on the edge of her seat, her arms sailing around her head. She speaks animatedly, the others all listening, chuckling or nodding their heads. I stand to the side and watch her speak.
The strap of her dress has slipped down her shoulder and a strand of her hair keeps falling into her face. She doesn’t seem to care as she holds everyone enraptured. I bet she has lipstick on her teeth now.
