Floridin's smile falters for half a second before he releases her hand. "Of course. Lucky man."
He nods and disappears into the crowd.
But I don't let go and she doesn't move.
My thumb brushes the curve of her waist without thinking, and I feel her breath hitch.
I should step back. I should put distance between us. Stop this immediately.
But I don't.
Because this, her body against mine, her warmth seeping into me, the way she's not pulling away, this is the first thing that's felt right in I don't know how long.
And I'm disgusted with myself for it.
I used another man's interest to justify touching her the way I've wanted to all night. I used my position, my role as her protector, to claim her.
Even briefly.
It's a line I swore I'd never cross, but I'd do it again in a heartbeat.
Keira tilts her head to look up at me, and whatever she sees in my expression makes her eyes widen slightly.
We look at each other for a moment, but before I can speak the music stops and a woman on stage calls her name, and the spotlight swings to the podium.
"Come on up here, Keira, and say a few words."
I watch her ascend the stairs watching her dress cling to every curve, and forcing myself to breathe.
She grips the podium, and the room quiets.
I listen as she talks, as she's magnetic.
I glance around the room and see a few men off in the corner. It looks like they're arguing about something. I want to go over, but a waiter is close to me with a tray of drinks, and I grab one, remembering.
The room applauds her as she steps back from the podium, her smile radiant.
I give her a glass of champagne, remembering how she mentioned she likes fresh air after being on stage.
She stares at me, surprised. Her fingers brush mine as she takes the glass, and the contact sends a jolt through me.
But she tells me she's not interested in going out; she's fine where she is, and I take that to mean with me.
We turn toward the auction, and I'm acutely aware of how close she's standing. Close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from her skin. Close enough that her perfume wraps around me like a vice.
I put my hands behind my back to stop me from doing something stupid and force myself to focus, scanning the crowd,cataloging exits, mapping any threats. Just trying to stay in work mode.
After a few minutes we take some seats to watch it all unfold, but I'm not watching the auction, I'm watching her.
The way she bites her lower lip when a bid climbs higher than expected. The way her fingers drum against her thigh when she's thinking. The way she leans forward slightly when something catches her interest.
I've memorized every detail and called it work.
And as she looks at me and smiles and then back at the item being auctioned off, I'm in fucking trouble.
This isn't professional anymore; this is something else entirely, and I'm not sure how I got here.
A man in a suit walks by us and he glances at Keira awkwardly. He's one of the men I saw arguing earlier. I watch him walk away only to have him come back.