26. Aaron

26

AARON

Strings of twinkling white lights are draped along the ceiling, casting a soft, golden glow that makes the entire room feel enchanted. A towering Christmas tree easily twice as tall as the one in my living room glitters in the far corner of the ballroom, next to a roaring fireplace decorated with emerald green garlands and red velvet bows. A grand piano flanks the other side of the fire, and a player in a Santa suit runs his fingers over the keys while crooning Frank Sinatra.

Men in tuxedos and women in striking gowns mingle around the ballroom. The clink of glasses and the hum of laughter carry through the air, alongside the scents of pine and cinnamon. The atmosphere is festive and perfect, full of the same contagious holiday cheer as in those cheesy Hallmark Christmas movies my family loves to watch and I love to complain about. All while secretly enjoying the hell out of them, of course.

It truly is a Winter Wonderland. Spectacular in every way.

But all of this beauty pales next to the sight of Olivia in that dress.

She’s a vision. A straight-up masterpiece of crimson satin and copper curls and scarlet smiling lips. Red is my favorite color right now, and I have a feeling it’ll stay that way.

We’ve been here nearly a damn hour already, and although I should be feeling anxious about seeing Brandi and also having to sweeten up Lieberman at some point tonight, I can’t tear my eyes away from Olivia long enough to care.

That dress is doing things to my insides that they have no business doing. I can’t concentrate on anything going on around me, because in my mind, I’m tracing the edges of that dress, smoothing my fingers along the shimmering pale skin exposed by the deep neckline and low, scooped back of the dress. I want to follow my fingers’ path with my mouth, tasting and licking and kissing her bare skin until she’s begging me to claim her mouth…

“You okay man?”

I startle out of my reverie to find Jake peering at me, eyes narrowed. Whoa, my mind got away from me there.

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” I yank my gaze away from Olivia, standing a few feet away at the bar with Sofia.

“You sure?” Triple J pipes up. “You’re, like, super red. Redder than our jerseys.”

“You running a fever or something?” Dallas asks as he begins to back away from me. “If so, you should go home. You definitely don’t wanna get us all sick. We play Toronto in two days.”

“I’m fine,” I insist. “It’s just hot in here.”

“No, it’s not,” Triple J says with a shake of his head. “I’m actually a bit cold.”

“Me too,” Jake adds, his expression nothing short of suspicious.

“What are you boys talking about?” Sofia appears beside me, Olivia trailing a step behind.

“How Aaron’s face currently looks like a beetroot,” Dallas says cheerfully.

Red is no longer my favorite color, I decide. But then, my gaze flits back to Liv and I have to retract my retraction.

“I got you a club soda,” she says, a crooked smile on her lips.

“Thanks,” I accept the glass, accidentally-on-purpose letting my fingers brush against hers. I’m gratified to see the hitch in her breath as I do.

“And for the record, your face is more the color of a tomato,” she adds helpfully, her eyes flashing with mischief. All at once, I am mentally hurtled back to the other night in my kitchen, when she covered my naked torso in washcloths.

I let my eyes sweep over her stunning form, and then they capture hers again. “I might be in need of some more first aid.”

“Aaron!” Reagan suddenly darts up and grabs my arm. Peeking behind me, her expression registers relief. “And Olivia, good. Just the people I wanted to see. Can I have a word with you both in private?”

Every ounce of casual flirtation in me disappears as I look around to see if Brandi has arrived. But to my relief, I don’t see her anywhere. “Sure thing, Reags.”

I glance sideways at Liv, but she only shrugs as we follow Reagan and her flouncy, neon-pink dress out of the ballroom.

Once in the hallway, she surreptitiously looks left, then right, like she’s a freaking spy or something. Then, she opens a door and ushers us into…

A coat closet.

Although, she ushers Olivia a little too fast, causing her to trip over her heel. I place my hands on Liv’s waist for a moment to steady her. I can’t help but let them linger there a moment too long, before reluctantly pulling them away and turning to Reagan.

“I assume this is about Brandi, but was the closet really necessary?” I arch a brow.

“Yes. We are on a covert mission.”

“I think it was a nice touch,” Olivia adds with a smirk, and Reagan grins.

“Thanks, girl.” Reagan then looks at me. “I have news that I think you’ll like, Aaron.”

“Well, now that we are safely among the mink furs of the rich and glitzy, please do tell.”

Olivia snorts with laughter at this, and we share a small smile before Reagan clears her throat. Dramatically.

“I decided to do some digging on Brandi before tonight.”

I tense. I’ve been so wrapped up in being at the gala with Olivia, I’d almost forgotten why Olivia is here with me in the first place.

“Has she arrived?” Olivia asks tentatively.

“I haven’t seen her yet, but she will be here, I’m sure of it.” Reagan’s eyes widen conspiratorially, and she takes a long pause for dramatic effect, I’m sure, before she adds, “This is what she does.”

I frown. “I’m confused.”

“Look at this.”

She hands me her phone, and right there, on her screen, is a social media post dated several years back. The account that made the post is called CrazyforCarterCallahan and the picture unmistakably features an almost unrecognizable, bright blond Brandi holding up a signed poster from one of the star’s movies.

What the hell?

I happen to know Carter Callahan—the Cyclones have worked with his charity in the past. I also know that he lives here in Atlanta.

I’m trying to figure out what this all means when Olivia peers at the screen, too. She sucks in a breath. “She’s done this before. You’re not her first target.”

“Good sleuthing, Sherlock,” Reagan praises her before smirking at me. “You, however, were slow on the uptake there, Marino.”

Olivia snickers, and I give her a little nudge as Reagan swipes her phone out of my hand. She then pulls up another post, this time an old and defunct fan account for an Atlanta-based pro-baseball player. And then, another for a rap star also based in this city.

“I contacted all of these people’s PR teams, and they confirmed that their client had been harassed by Brandi in the past. She comes after her victims by creating negative press, and then essentially blackmails them into paying her to disappear.”

“That is wild.” I shake my head. “But I don’t understand why you seem so happy about this. Surely, this is bad news—the woman is clearly a freaking professional at shakedowns, which means that I’m screwed. Who knows what she might pull tonight.”

I cast a sideways glance at Olivia, anxiety suddenly churning in my gut. I shouldn’t have brought her into this.

What if Brandi does something to her? The very thought makes me sick.

But Reagan’s laughing merrily, sounding not unlike a movie villain. “Here’s the thing, Aaron. In the past, she attacked her targets from multiple angles, but for you, she chose to focus on your love life. Probably because you’ve never really dated anyone seriously, and so that’s what she exploited. She could make you look so fricking callous.” Reagan’s eyes move mischievously to Olivia. “But what I believe she didn’t count on was you being linked to someone else.”

Next to me, Olivia shifts her weight a little. I am also starting to have a distinct feeling about where this is going, and I want nothing more than to peek at Liv’s face. Try to read her expression.

“So,” Reagan continues, nonplussed. “If you were to be seen at a high-visibility event, perhaps… with someone serious in your life… someone you’re living with… then Brandi’s stories would no longer hold any weight. She would no longer be a victim in the eyes of the media, but just a jilted, bitter ex. And if she were to try anything crazy, it would be seen, and reported, as such.”

“And therefore clear up any lingering doubts Dennis Lieberman has about me and my character,” I finish, my mind reeling.

She gives me a little finger gun and a wink. “Bingo, my friend.”

“Genius,” Olivia adds, sparkling at Reagan. “You should really be working for the CIA rather than the Cyclones.”

She snorts. “Nah, my talents scouring social media archives would be entirely wasted at the CIA.”

Olivia laughs, and I watch as her face lights up..

“But Olivia and me… we’re not actually together.” Nor would she ever want to make it look like we were. She agreed to be my plus one tonight, nothing more.

“Duh.” Reagan purses her lips. “But you’re here together tonight, right?”

She looks from me to Liv, and we both nod.

“And you’re both young, and hot, and otherwise not romantically entangled, right?”

Olivia’s skin is the color of her dress. “Yes,” she says unevenly.

“So, if you make it look real tonight, Brandi will have no choice but to fade into the background. Or risk looking like a hysterical brat having a tantrum.” Reagan mimes dusting her shoulders off, then gives us an upward nod. “Another cracked case by the Cyclones’ resident super sleuth! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an auction to prepare for. I’ll see you on-stage in five minutes.”

And with that, she exits the coat closet, leaving Liv and me alone.

I rake a hand through my hair. As perfect as Reagan’s solution might appear to be, there’s one very important factor here. “I’m sorry, Liv. This wasn’t part of our agreement. You are, in no way, obliged to go along with Reagan’s plan.”

I honestly expect Olivia to look as horrified as she did when she saw my Christmas tree at the prospect of acting like more than just my auction-bidder tonight. But there’s a smile playing on her lips. “I’ll do it.”

“You will?” I blink at her.

“Sure.”

“Why?”

Her smile grows, and despite how focused I am on sorting out this Brandi stuff, I can’t help but notice how beautiful she is.

“Because you’ve done me more than a few favors lately.” Her brows furrow slightly as she adds, “And because what Brandi’s doing is pretty gross, and I’d like her to be stopped. There are so many women—so many people —who have actual terrible relationships. Her pretending you treated her badly just to blackmail you is horrendous.”

“Well… thank you. This means a lot.”

“And I am poised and ready to spend a lot.” She bounces her eyebrows up and down. “A lot of your money.”

“All to win the date of a lifetime with me,” I tease.

“We’ll see about that,” she says with a laugh as she puts her hand on the doorknob. “Now, let’s get you auctioned off.”

She throws open the door and we tumble out of the closet to find Sadie Lincoln—AKA the right-hand reporter for Satan himself—standing in the hallway. Reflexively, I reach for Olivia’s hand.

Sadie’s pencil-thin brows shoot up. “Hello, Aaron.”

I nod brusquely. “Sadie.”

She snaps straight into pitbull mode, pulling her lips back in a grimace. “Just the man I wanted to see. I had some follow-up questions regarding Dennis Lieberman’s dissatisfaction with?— ”

“Whoa,” Olivia cuts her off with a sweet smile. She gives my hand a squeeze, while placing her other one on my chest, gazing up at me adoringly.

I’m momentarily stunned by the liquid hazel depths of her eyes. It’s a look she’s never directed at me before, and I want to drown in it.

“You promised me we wouldn’t talk about work tonight, honey. Tonight is about raising money for the children, remember.” She pouts her bottom lip, then looks up at me seductively. “And for spending time with me.”

“I remember,” I say solemnly, shaking my head like I’ve been reprimanded. “Sorry, my love.”

Sadie practically topples over in shock.

Honestly, while I’m apprehensive about seeing Lieberman tonight, Olivia’s presence is making me feel much better about whatever he might have to say to me.

So much so that I turn back to the reporter and arrange my features into a bashful grin. “Sorry, Sadie, the boss has spoken. And she’s right—tonight’s about the children. So you’ll have to save those questions for our next pre-game media chat. Have a good night.”

With that, I put my hand on the small of Olivia’s back, just like I did in my fantasy earlier. I direct her back into the ballroom, reveling in fact that I now know what her silky soft skin feels like beneath my palm.

I’m going to need zero help making this look real tonight.