Chapter 8

8

June

"Where are you going?" The smile on my face turns into a frown as I watch him put distance between us. When he doesn't answer, I take a step forward. "Knox!"

"That's Mr. Davenport to you." He scowls at me over his shoulders. "And I'm going to the bar to get in a couple of drinks, so I'm insulated enough to put on a game face."

"B-but… I can't go on alone."

"You won't be alone; Jeeves here will keep you company."

Jeeves, who's dressed in a black suit and tie and is clearly part of the service staff, looks between us, then pastes a smile on his features. He's uncomfortable but is too polite to show it.

"Shall we, Miss?" He leads me away while my boss stalks off. I track his progress, then frown when he's stopped by a woman in a black dress that fits her like a glove. Her shoulders are covered, and the dress ends below her knee, but the height of the heels on her fire-engine red stilettos ensures she's almost at eye-level with him. She smiles at something he says then takes the arm he offers her. A spurt of jealousy licks my insides, and I bat it away.

Together, they walk forward, picking up another man dressed in a tux with a bored look on his features. He nods at them, and my boss and he exchange a few words, then all three of them head toward the bar at the far end of the room. I hunch my shoulders.

So, he pawned me off on someone else, then decided to catch up with his friends. I thought I'd be spending the evening with him. I thought he invited me along to help further his business. Instead, he's not giving me any direction. He abandoned me and I... I don‘t know what I'm supposed to do.

The scent of expensive perfume permeates the air, combined with the flowers that are arranged in huge vases on tables—lilies and violets and enormous orchids of a size I've never seen before. All around me are men in tuxedos and women wearing the kinds of clothes I've only seen in society pages. The kind of clothing I'm wearing tonight. Many are wearing hats. On the outside, I, too, am wearing a designer dress and heels, and my makeup is flawless. But inside, I feel like a fraud.

I'm not ashamed of my background, or that my childhood was spent in the care system, or that I was adopted. Or that when my mother fell ill and lost her job, I stepped in to help take care of my sister and brother. I want them to benefit from a higher education and promised myself I'd help pay for their university fees.

But surrounded by men and women who've been born into generational wealth, I feel the contrast between them and me keenly. I realize we've come to a halt and Jeeves looks at me expectantly, "Are you okay, Miss?" he asks in a kind voice.

For the first time, I look at him properly and realize he's much older than my boss. He has a patient look about his features, and an understanding in his gaze that I'm grateful for.

"I, uh… Could you lead me to a quieter part of the room, where I might, perhaps, not feel like I'm on display?"

"Of course." He guides me to the side opposite where my boss headed. He leads me to a standing table, pushed up almost against the wall. Once I step behind it, I'm able to hide behind the flowers. This way, I can see the room, but not too many people can spot me. I hope .

"Can I get you something to drink?" he asks.

"I believe the lady would like some… Champagne?" a voice comments.

I look up to find a man who's at least six feet three inches, possibly as tall as my boss, with dark hair and facial features remarkably similar to my boss. Only he's wearing a pair of glasses, which add to his appeal. He places a glass of champagne on the table in front of me. "Connor Davenport," he says by way of introduction. "And you must be June Donnelly."

I nod slowly. "So, you are?—"

"That asshat Knox's brother." He nods at Jeeves, who bows his head, then melts away.

"Wow." I stare after him. "Do they have to go to a school for stewards to learn how to walk away so unobtrusively?"

"Butler school actually," Connor replies.

I look at him, sure he's joking, but his expression says otherwise. His lips quirk in a half smile, and damn, but he reminds me of my boss then. Only Knox—I mean, Mr. Davenport—is bigger than him, not in height but in girth. Connor has a lean strength to him, but Knox? He's built like a truck. A very sexy truck, who looks devastating in a tux. But Connor's handsome, too, in a more classic fashion. Perhaps, it's the lack of scars that gives me that impression?

Connor's gaze grows intense. His eyelids lower as he surveys my features. "I can see why my brother is taken with you."

I blush. Given I caught him masturbating, and he spanked me, and we discussed our attraction in the limo on the way over here, I'd have agreed with his assessment. Only he did make it clear again, that there was nothing between us. Then he ditched me the first chance he could and went off with his fancy schmancy friends, so now I'm not sure.

"Oh, no, no. You're mistaken. I'm his assistant, is all. And he needed me to take notes tonight whenever he met anyone of importance."

There's a knowing smile on Connor's face. And that makes me shake my head again.

"No, really. This is a work thing." I'm beginning to sound desperate. But I'm telling the truth. Besides, I don't want word spreading that there's something between me and my boss. Not when there isn't. And not when it'll make it extremely uncomfortable for me in the workplace if this gets around. Only Connor doesn't seem to believe me .

"It's all right." He pats my hand. "My brother is a dick. He needs to spin lies that he can believe in. But he's a fool, leaving you alone."

"Oh, ah, he had some work to take care of." Now, I'm making excuses for the man. Really?

Again, Connor seems to be aware of what I'm doing, for he winks. "Want to see how I can bring him back here?"

There's a rakish look in his eyes, one I can't help but respond to. This man is trouble in a different way from Knox. He sees the doubt on my features. "I promise, I won't do anything to get you in trouble… Well, maybe a little." His grin turns sly. "In a good way."

The craftiness in his tone brings forth a reluctant smile on my face.

"I promise, it's only going to help my brother see what a complete tosser he is."

"I can get on board with that." I shift my weight between my feet. "But I have to insist that you understand I'm only his employee."

"Of course," he says in a guileless tone.

The expression on his features is too innocent. The man is up to something, but he's so delightfully charming, it doesn't stop me from taking his hand when he offers it to me. He leads me onto the dance floor.

"My bag." I turn to where I left it to find Jeeves taking it. He turns and bows to me then, once again, does that disappearing butler thing. "Oh my god, I could get used to this," I exclaim.

"Jeeves is one of a kind. He is the butler of butlers."

"He really is." I step onto the dance floor where couples are already swaying. There's a live five-piece band at one end of the floor who are playing a classical waltz I vaguely recognize. The violinist, though— "Is that?" My gaze widens. "Surely not."

"It's him." He names a very well-known rock star known for combining classical music into his rock operas and whose music is currently charting Spotify's most downloaded tracks.

Then a woman steps up to take the microphone, and I gasp again. "That's Solene!" She's only the most popular pop star in the world right now. "I didn't realize she did private gigs?" I gasp.

"She's a good friend of the Crown Prince," Connor informs me.

Solene begins to croon into the mic.

I sigh. "Oh wow, she's good. "

"And my brother is not just a twat but a complete loser." Connor smiles down at me. "Also, don't look past my shoulder."

I do so right away, and my gaze connects with the exceptionally large, very scary looking man who's glowering at me from the edge of the dance floor. Without breaking our connection, he begins to shoulder his way across the dance floor, and not too gently. He merely shoves a man who's stepped in his path to the side, then elbows another man who's dancing with his partner out of the way. To their credit the men don't pick a fight with him. They don't even pause as they steer their women out of his way. As if by magic, the rest of the couples glide away, opening up a path from him to where I'm dancing. He prowls toward me, and when he reaches us, he grabs Connor by his collar and shoves him aside. "She's mine."