"Sounds like a plan." She puckers up again, and I smooch her lips, then head to the kitchen.
32
Samaera
When we walk outof the condo, it feels like we're reenacting a scene straight out of Pretty Woman. I'm dressed to the nines in an off-the-shoulders red gown with my hair piled on top of my head and a new single strand of South Sea cultured white pearls that cost $32,500. Bastian is dressed to kill in a Ralph Lauren black tuxedo. On the way down in the elevator, I slip my hand in his and squeeze. He looks at me, and I tell him, "I feel like a princess."
He grins, "You are my princess."
I smile at our reflection in the steel doors. "If I forget to tell you later, I had a really good time tonight."
He chuckles, "I did too."
We drive the Bugatti into the parking garage and travel up ten levels before we find a parking spot. I wait patiently for him to open my door. When he does, I swing both feet out and hold both hands up for him to take. He braces, giving me the resistance I need to lift my ass out of the seat and onto my ten-inch platform heels. I smooth the gown down over my curvy hips and then take the arm he offers.
Once in the elevator, Bastian pushes the third-floor button, and as it descends, he says, "If you see something you like tonight, bid on it."
I look at him, and he smirks, "Yes, I'm serious. It's for a good cause."
"Even so, I'm not spending your money unnecessarily."
He laughs, "You're so different from everyone I've dated."
My ears perk up, and I can't help asking, "How many women have you dated?"
"Too many, and enough know how special you are."
The doors slide open, and he leads me out into the auditorium. Chairs have been placed around a fashion show catwalk on the ground floor, and five tiers of elevated seats around those. A waiter with a tray of full champagne flutes passes by, and Bastian deftly removes two. He hands one to me and says, "Here's to the most beautiful woman in the room."
"Pickle," I twinkle at him and touch my flute with his.
He scans the room while we indulge ourselves, then states, "We're seated on the floor in front of the stage on the right side."
I look where his eyes are focused and ask, "What's wrong? They seem like great seats."
He nods, "They are. But the company isn't."
"A rival for your affection?"
He chuckles, and his smirk is sexy as hell, giving me the look I need to know that's not true anymore. He bends down and pecks my lips.
"You just keep looking at me that way, and neither of us will have to say anything to anyone." I thumb my chest. "New sheriff."
He laughs and takes my empty glass, offering them to a server who hurries over with a tray. Then we're making our way through the crowd to our seats. Occasionally, someone touches Bastian's arm to gain his attention, and he nods at them. But he doesn't stop to introduce me. That doesn't keep them from eyeballing me and trying to figure out who I am.
The further down the aisle we walk, the more eyeballs it feels like are shooting daggers at me. When we arrive at our seats, Bastian waves me to enter the aisle first. I pick up the program from the seat and sit. Then open it to check the schedule. There are forty-plus entries in the show. Bastian hands me his program, and I fold them together.
The emcee taps the mic and says, "Please find your seats. The show will start in five minutes."
Bastian puts his arm around the back of my chair, and I lean against him. The murmur of voices grows as people file in and search for their seats. Bastian plays with my hair, my pearls, and the soft nape of my neck, lost in thought. "What are you thinking about?" I ask.
"Fucking in the infinity pool."
I cut my eyes at him, and he winks at me.
Just then, a redhead dressed in a dark purple halter gown enters the aisle and sits next to Bastian. She is stunningly beautiful. She leans over and speaks to him. "Sebastian, it's good to see you."
"Grace," he speaks only an acknowledgment that she's there.
