Page 55 of Heart to Heart
Clad from head to toe in black, including the sleek black mask covering his eyes and the bridge of his nose, he was the embodiment of every morally grey man I never openly admitted I wanted to bend me over a table. He looked like the villain instead of the hero. The man you’re not supposed to want to get the girl, but I’ll be damned if he couldn’t have had any one of us in the room, even if his name weren’t Tristan Tate.
“Good evening.”
Jesus George Washington Christ, even his voice had a villainous edge to it, and with the way the others sighed their return greeting to him, they’d heard it, too. This was a further testament to Tristan’s acting skills, especially knowing he didn’t want to be here.
“Thank you for joining me tonight for a little downtime. I hope you’re all fully recovered from this morning. Not too sore, I hope.”
You can make me sore anytime.
Dammit, brain. Take a cold shower.
“Watching all of you and the way you tackled that obstacle course, I was impressed.” His eyes rested on me, and for a fleeting millisecond, I thought he was speaking directly to me. “You all have what it takes to be action stars.”
I hadn’t seen swooning in action before, let alone by a group of women decked out in gowns and feathered masks that looked like a bejeweled Big Bird, but swoon they did. Weak knees and all.
“Tonight, before we go into another elimination, I want to have a little one-on-one time with each of you. Everyone will get the same amount of time without interruption. While you wait for your turn, please mingle among yourselves, enjoy some champagne and a lowkey night.”
He scanned our faces, cutting the tension short when he selected Brittney L. to join him first, simultaneously breaking hearts. As he led her out to the dance floor, a string quartet played in the corner of the room, signaling someone on the production crew to dim the lights from the massive chandelier that hung squarely in the center of the dance floor.
“Champagne?” a sharply dressed server asked Daisy.
“No. Thank you. My stomach feels a little funny,” she said. The color had drained from her already alabaster skin, which had taken on the pallor of a fourteenth-century plague victim.
“Same here,” Eleanor said, sweat glistening across her forehead.
Sasha glanced at me at the same time I glanced over at her, and we both took a step back from the pair in unison. Even though we were supposed to be mingling, my attention drifted back over to Tristan and Brittney L., hating how much it bothered me to see Tristan with his hands around another woman.
CHAPTER 29
TRISTAN
Two minutes.
I had two minutes left with Brittney L. before I could switch partners. Nothing against her; she seemed rather…interesting, certainly beautiful. Someone any of my former co-stars would be happy to have on their arm when they walked the red carpet. Her fire-engine red hair alone was enough to grab men by the dick and keep them under her spell. But I’ll be damned if I could concentrate enough to take in an ounce of what she said. Instead, I smiled when I felt it appropriate, all while maintaining a convincing amount of eye contact. All I was required to do was give her ten minutes, and I couldn’t even manage ten seconds.
Because all I wanted to do was talk to Avery.
And why? I knew she wasn’t here because of me. Her confession stung more than I cared to admit. But there was still this need to see her again, this pull. Wanda had given me a list containing the order of the women I should call on, focusing on those I hadn’t spent that much time with. Avery had been near the bottom of that list.
Screw that list.
The timer on my watch went off. Not since high school had I felt so relieved to hear a bell. Escorting Brittney L. from the dance floor, I approached the women milling about the room.
“It was nice talking to you,” Brittney L. said, standing on her tiptoes to plant a soft kiss on my cheek. I smiled, telling her I enjoyed our conversation, despite her having done the lion’s share of the talking. And then, the moment she cut me loose, I walked over to the siren in the red dress.
She stood with her back to me, oblivious to my presence as she mingled with Sasha, who looked up when I approached. Before she could alert Avery that I was behind her, I reached out and tapped her on her shoulder, wanting nothing more than to let my fingers linger on her smooth skin. Startled, she turned around, her eyes widening when she realized it was me.
“May I have this dance?”
She seemed hesitant at first, almost as if she was going to turn me down. Internally, I was sweating bullets. Relief flooded me when I saw that beautiful smile of hers light up her face.
“Yes, you may,” she acquiesced.
Happier than I had any right to be, I linked my arm with hers and we walked to the dance floor.
Wanda was going to be pissed.
“How’s the arm?” I asked, tracing my finger over the scab that had formed over the cut.Am I imagining it, or did she shudder a little when I touched her?
