Page 215 of Face Off

“You’re intelligent. Adapt.”

I tighten my fingers around her thigh and kiss the bare curve of her shoulder above the tank. Charm returns to her conversation without looking around to see who noticed. The absence of hesitation has been fucking with me all evening. Every time I touch her, she accepts it like my hands belong exactly where I place them. When someone watches, she moves closer.

The woman beside me tonight would’ve taken my hand inside the study.

Knowing that doesn’t rewrite what happened. It doesn’t return the key, change her silence, or undo the drive to Flint with her face following me across every mile. Current Charm can’t enter an old room and rescue the man I was inside it.

She can only show me what she would do now.

So far, she hasn’t failed once.

A server replaces our salad plates while conversations move between tables. The terrace has filled with the remaining VIP guests, extended family, former teammates, coaches, and people important enough to Cade or Bliss that they earned an invitation to the smaller dinner before tomorrow’s rehearsal. Music plays quietly from speakers hidden among the flowers, leaving enough space for laughter and the constant ring of silverware against china.

Charm’s body goes still beside mine.

I feel the change through her thigh before I understand what caused it. Her fingers tighten around the stem of her champagne glass, but she doesn’t turn.

Lance’s voice comes from the table directly behind us. “Some people never learn their lesson.”

He speaks loudly enough for everyone at our table to hear while maintaining the polished tone of a man pretending his cruelty belongs to a private conversation. I glance over my shoulder.

Lance sits with Crystal and several members of Bliss and Cade’s extended families. Three open chairs remain around the table, yet he chose the one directly behind Charm. His body angles toward ours, one elbow resting near the back of his chair while the man beside him stares at his plate with the discomfort of someone who knows he has been drafted into an argument without consent.

Lance meets my eyes but I turn away before he receives the reaction he wants.

Charm’s shoulders remain rigid. I move my hand from her thigh, brush the heavy fall of hair away from her neck, and press my mouth beneath her ear.

“Don’t,” she whispers.

I stiffen. “Don’t what?”

“Let him ruin this.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

Her breathing changes when my mouth moves slowly along the side of her neck. I kiss the place beneath her jaw, then leave my hand around the back of her neck when I return her hair over my lips.

Briggs studies my face. Easton looks beyond me toward Lance, but Cade keeps his attention on Charm.

“What were you saying?” I ask her.

She glances at me. “About what?”

“The final fitting.”

“Oh.” Her grip loosens around the champagne. “Bliss’s dress only needs one adjustment near the back because someone lost enough weight this week to make me threaten her with intravenous pasta.”

Bliss points her fork at Cade. “He stressed me out.”

“I asked whether we had enough parking.”

“You asked at two in the morning.”

“We received another confirmation.”

“You woke me from a dream where the florist delivered funeral arrangements.”

“You told me to track the confirmations.”