Page 15 of At Your Service
The photographer hired specifically to commemorate the event had been given a list of names and pictures Desta wanted. The guy, who was dressed in all black, directed Major to stand behind Nina and put his hands around her waist. It was the dreaded prom picture pose. He was inclined to frown once he realized it, but as her body settled back against his, Major felt something else entirely.
In addition to the warmth spreading throughout his body at her proximity to him, there was a rush of something akin to joy, excitement or—no, it was more intense, possibly ownership. As he looked toward the photographer, ready for the guy to snap the picture, Major was acutely aware of the men in the room staring his way. Surely they weren’t looking at him, so they had to be staring at Nina, whom he already knew looked phenomenal in the blue dress.
He tried valiantly to keep from frowning as he realized he was the one forgetting this was all a hoax and that Nina wasn’t his to feel jealous, protective or anything else about.
“Now, you stand still and, Ms. Fuller, you turn around.” The photographer had moved on to another instruction that Nina dutifully followed.
She turned until she was facing him.
“Put your hands on his shoulders and turn your head to me,” the guy said.
Again, she obeyed.
Now her front was pressed into his and Major’s hands immediately went around her waist once more. Without instruction.
He could smell the floral scent of her shampoo and felt the curve of her breasts even through the material of his jacket and shirt. His fingers tightened at her waist before sliding down slightly until he could feel the curve of her ass. This time when the flash of the camera erupted, Major was clenching his teeth. He was holding so still he thought his bones might crack from inactivity. But that was preferable to giving in to the heat spreading through his veins like wildfire and pressing her closer to him.
Several pictures were taken in that pose and he was about to complain or pull away—anything to stop the assault his arousal had taken on his body when she looked up at him.
“You don’t like holding poses for pictures, do you?” she asked with a smile.
“Not really,” he replied while staring down into eyes that appeared to have more yellow highlights than he’d noticed before. “But I enjoy holding you.”
She blinked as if trying to figure out if she should smile at his words or feel something deeper, something more potent than he’d assumed either of them would feel. When she remained silent, he lifted a hand to brush the backs of his fingers lightly over the line of her jaw. She continued to smile and surprised him by leaning her head into his touch. It was a quick and impromptu movement, one that had his breath catching seconds before more pictures were snapped.
With the warm air around them and the sound of violins, harps—or whatever instruments the quartet at the other end of the room was playing—echoing toward the sky, he was locked in her gaze, wrapped in this blissful attraction. She must have felt it, too, because she suddenly looked puzzled. He wanted to say something reassuring, to convince them both that they were simply beginning their series of acting assignments for the next six weeks, but Riley’s voice interrupted the music and stopped his thoughts.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for joining us tonight. While we have a few upcoming things happening within the fashion house that we’ll also be talking about tonight, we don’t want to keep you in suspense any longer about the big reveal. As always, the patriarch of our family, my father, Mr. Ron Gold, will start the announcements.”
Major had taken Nina’s hand without thought, moving them until they stood to the side with Riley. The white podium where his sister had introduced their father was alight with the same purple accent as the flowered arch, lounge chairs and high-boy tables throughout the space. On the other side of the podium stood Maurice and RJ, watching as his father stepped up to the microphone.
A tall, distinguished-looking man with a bald head and stern facial features, Ron Gold was the epitome of fashion dressed in an original RGF chocolate-brown suit, crisp white shirt and canary yellow silk tie.
“I’ll echo my daughter’s gratitude for your attendance tonight. We know you’re normally ready for a few industry announcements at this event, but this year we have something a little more special,” he began. “As you know, we’ve had a very successful launch into this year’s Fashion Weeks with the unveiling of our Golden Bride Collection in February. Well, tonight the Gold family is pleased to announce that not only are we celebrating a phenomenal episode in bridal fashion, we’re also overjoyed with the engagement of our son Major to the lovely Ms. Nina Fuller.”
At first there were gasps followed by the low buzz of murmurs before multiple camera flashes lit up the room. Applause began with a quick burst and Nina’s fingers trembled in his. Major gave her hand a little squeeze and then lifted it to his lips to kiss. Another impromptu action that sent the crowd into more clapping and more picture-snapping.
Normally, this would be the point where Major would turn away, leaving the beast of pictures and questions behind. If it wasn’t after an RGF show, where Ron liked for each of his children to make comments to demonstrate they were all personally and professionally vested in the presentations, then Major didn’t deal with the tabloids or the press. Yet tonight, he stood a little straighter and squared his shoulders. For the first time, he didn’t mind having pictures taken with this woman beside him. Perhaps because this time he—meaning the marketing team—was orchestrating the response of every reporter and photographer in this space.
It was a surreal moment, one he’d never thought he’d experience. The announcement of his wedding. He reminded himself it was fake and shook off the feeling of excitement that had started to blossom in the pit of his stomach. Instead, he turned to look at Nina, who was smiling—no, she was beaming as she looked from one camera to another, the tilt of her head and easy movement of her body as if she’d practiced for this moment all her life. She appeared so natural, her hand so comfortable in his. That odd stirring he’d had when they first stood under the arch moved through him again and this time he knew it wasn’t solely arousal. Desire was a definite between them and very easy to acknowledge and understand. This other thing, not so much.
When she returned her gaze to Major’s, he immediately felt at ease. So, when the first question came directly to him from a reporter, he didn’t think twice before responding.
“This is all so exciting and fast, Major. Where and when did you and Ms. Fuller meet?”
“We met earlier this year and I wasn’t aware there was a time clock ticking on love.” He had no idea where that response had come from, but it seemed like a good answer. And, if he wasn’t mistaken, it made Nina’s smile a little brighter.
Another reporter took advantage of the fact that Major was actually answering questions, even though it hadn’t been announced that he would.
“So how did he sweep you off your feet, Ms. Fuller?”
She didn’t look at him to gauge his response, she simply continued to smile and began a story that sounded very real.
“It was Valentine’s Day and neither of us had a date. We ended up at the same bar,notcrying in our drinks.” Nina chuckled and so did the reporter. “Next thing I know, we’re having dinner on a rooftop like this one, talking about all the people who put too much emphasis on Valentine’s Day. After that we were together every weekend, either here in the city or in Pennsylvania where I’m from. So if you count quiet walks in Central Park and sitting in rocking chairs on my dad’s back porch as being swept off my feet, then yeah, that’s just what he did.”
“Aww, that’s so sweet,” the woman reporter said.
“So you’re the Fashion House Romantic instead of the Fashion House Playboy. That’s not as good a headline,” the guy said, chuckling when the woman elbowed him.
