Wreck the Halls(30)
It took serious restraint not to follow through on that impulse. This whole evening was scary enough, but the sudden lack of warmth coming from Beat made it terrifying.
Relax. He’s probably just nervous, too.
After all, they were preparing to propose a reunion to his mother with, apparently, a lot of people watching. He wasn’t obligated to hold her hand and rain down his golden energy on her every second of the day. Sometimes he probably turned that sunshine-level wattage off completely. What was he like in those moments?
Her chest ached with the need to know.
When a muscle leapt in Beat’s cheek, Melody realized she was staring at him and quickly looked ahead. They were the sole SUV in line and . . . they’d been noticed. At first, she assumed her mind was playing tricks on her, but no. Additional camerapeople were sprinting toward the red-carpet line, along with pedestrians, phones glowing in their hands. A group of very large men in black jackets and headsets stood at the curb, waiting on their arrival. And then it was Beat and Melody’s turn to step out of their vehicle and everything happened so fast, she could only put one foot in front of the other and keep moving.
Someone took her hand and helped her out of the SUV. Not Beat. This hand was thicker and all business. “It’s best if we get inside quickly, ma’am.”
“Just Melody is fine.”
“Melody,” the gruff voice said, not warming in the slightest. “Let’s move.”
Flashes blinded her, but she could see just enough to catch Beat’s tight expression. His eyes were trained on the security guard’s hand where it now gripped her elbow to hustle her forward. One of the cameramen called his name and he seemed to snap himself out of the daze, at least halfway, striding down the red carpet in front of her while frequently glancing back over his shoulder at Melody.
“Smile, Melody!” someone barked at her. “Smile over here!”
Where? She couldn’t see anything. Too many flashes going off. “Silent Night” was hitting its crescendo in a wild stampede of notes. Unfortunately, the combination of temporary blindness and attempting to keep her eyes open for pictures proved a hazard. A piece of artificial snow landed snack in the middle of her right eyeball and she flinched, stumbling to a stop. “The snow. It . . . it got me.” She clapped a palm over her eye, waving Beat forward with her opposite hand. “Save yourself.”
“Melody. Over here!”
“Sure, ignore my pain.” She squinted at the row of paps. “I have a two-part question. One, does artificial snow melt? And two, would I look dashing in an eye patch?”
She was surprised to hear them laugh.
In fact . . . were they laughing with her? Growing up, the laughter was directed at her.
Maybe the fact that she couldn’t see their faces was helping. But the snowflake in her eye was thankfully beginning to melt, restoring her vision, and the brief pause of flashbulbs brought the veritable sea of faces into view.
She almost tossed her cookies.
“Melody!” someone screamed, just as the security guards shuffled her forward again. “Are you single?” Two brass doors swung open, two trumpets heralded her arrival, and then she was inside, the cacophony of outdoors sounds cutting off.
“Yes,” she said. “Brutally.”
A low chuckle behind Melody reminded her that Joseph was hot on her trail.
She’d escaped the physical crowd, but an online crowd was still observing her every word and movement. She really needed to stop forgetting that.
Inside the lobby of the lavish hotel now, Melody couldn’t help but marvel at her surroundings. Whoever oversaw the task of decorating tonight had kept the blue Christmas theme, the entire space lit by a glowing azure ceiling of lights. LED snowflakes danced on the walls and across the faces of guests. A string quartet played in the center of the room, greeting everyone with a refined rendition of “Silver Bells.” Waiters in top hats passed through the space with trays of cranberry-colored champagne, bowing to those who took one.
Beat materialized in front of her, his gaze running over her from head to toe. Why did his hands appear to be fists in his pockets? “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Are you?”
“Yes, of course.” A blinding smile spread across his face, but never quite reached his eyes. “Although in all the excitement, I forgot that tonight was a masquerade.” He held up a slim, black velvet mask in between his middle and forefinger. “Good thing we offer spares at the door.”
Melody watched as the other guests in the lobby started donning their masks, obviously having waited until they’d been photographed to put them on.
“Ah yes, the classic holiday masquerade theme.” Melody took the mask he offered and slipped it over her head, arranging it in place across her eyes. “The season wouldn’t be complete without one.”
“If only there was a mask to keep me from being disinherited.”
Melody laughed. “On a scale of one to ten, how ready are you for this?”
One of his cheeks inflated with air while he considered the question. “Three point five,” he answered, cheek deflating.
“That’s higher than I expected.”
“I just shotgunned two glasses of cranberry champagne,” he explained, indicating one of the waiters nearby. “And then I turned around and you weren’t behind me anymore.”