Page 134 of Parting Shot

“I’m glad.”

“Oh, you should be,” Aaron said with a thread of warning in his voice.

He took hold of Prentiss’s shoulder and guided him over to Max. We retook our places in line, but Aaron put Prentiss between him and Max, with me on the very end.

I put my hand on the small of Aaron’s back and leaned close to his ear. “You’re a very good man.”

“As long as you think so, that’s all that matters.”

Later, when the receiving line emptied, Aaron grabbed my hand and yanked me after him, around tables, past the dance floor, and into a darkened alcove at the back, further hidden by bunched curtains hanging from the ceiling of the ballroom. It was quiet there, unused, and filled with stacked chairs and extra tables. I had also noticed that Aaron had Miguel standing by the only entrance. It looked like that was simply where he had chosen to be, but I knew that Aaron was making sure we couldn’t be disturbed.

“What are we doing?” I questioned, rounding on him now that he wasn’t dragging me around anymore.

“I know you read the article in that magazine about the heir apparent?” he teased me.

“It’s not funny.” I had been so hurt for Aaron, about the things his father had said about his lifestyle choices, about me, and about where he was leading the company.

“You realize he can’t do anything at all to me, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“And every antigay word he utters diminishes him in the eyes of the business community, here and everywhere.”

“Sure.”

“But you’re still worried.”

“Not after what you said to Prentiss.”

“But you knew all that. I told you when Max did it.”

“With your blessing,” I reminded him.

“And my money.” He grinned wickedly, taking a step toward me. “But tell me, can you remember the name?”

“The name of what?”

“The name of the magazine,” he began, closing the distance further, “the article about my dad and his new protégé was in?”

I had to think. “I don’t think so.”

“Exactly, because when I’m in print, I’m in Forbes, The Economist, Fortune, but my father and his heir are not.”

“Okay.”

He tilted his head and kissed my ear, which sent a shiver down my side. “But don’t worry. I will never let my guard down where Prentiss is concerned.”

“And I’m here.”

“I know,” he said hoarsely. “Hey, take a look out there and make sure cocktail hour is going well.”

I did as I had been directed, moving a few feet away from him to peer out at the room from the safety of the heavy drapes. Everyone was standing or sitting, milling around, talking, laughing, and drinking.

“Well?” he inquired, his hands on my hips, undoing the belt that held the scabbard on.

“What are you doing?” I spoke to him over my shoulder.

“I just want this off for a moment.”