And even I can see it.
No wonder Hayes doesn’t want to be here.
Even with the kindest of people, there are subtle social hierarchies and digs and rules.
And are Jonas and Peyton kind?
I don’t know.
I really don’t.
“Excuse us,” Hayes says to Amelia and his family. “I promised Begonia front-row seats to the feeding.”
“You won’t really have to fight the crowd,” Amelia says.
“Do they do tricks?” Peyton asks. “We’ll come with you. Jonas. Where’s your phone? Show Begonia the video of the sea lions from our trip to San Francisco when we were filming Deep in Love. Amelia, so good to see you again. Have your assistant ping mine. We’ll do lunch next time I’m in town.”
They do the cheek-kisses, and once more, I get a pang for Amelia.
I shouldn’t. She’s one more of the women watching Hayes like he’s a golden ticket, and even knowing she doesn’t want him for him—Hayes told me she’s involved with someone her family doesn’t like—I can’t help feeling sorry for her.
How lonely must it be to not know who your real friends are, and to be hunting for a husband for convenience instead of love?
I want to hug her and tell her to say fuck the world and go after what she wants, but it’s not my place, and I don’t think she wants to hear it from me.
Also, it’s not like I don’t know how hard that is.
I’m dating a billionaire myself, and my mother is still holding my ex-husband in reserve as her plan for my future when I screw it up with Hayes, which she’s convinced I’ll do.
And she’s not wrong.
I mean, that’s actually the plan.
Sigh.
Why can’t the world support people doing what it takes to make them happy, instead of what it takes to make other people miserable?
“Do you think they know how lucky they are?” Hayes murmurs to me a few minutes later as we’re watching the zookeepers tease the sea lions into doing tricks for fish.
“The zookeeper or the sea lions?”
“Yes.”
I slip an arm around his waist and squeeze it too.
He gets it.
He really does.
“I hope so,” I whisper.
Once the sea lions are fed, which involves a lot of squealing and pointing on my behalf and a lot of unexpected smiles on his behalf, he tugs my hand. “The interminable self-congratulating about saving a single sea turtle is about to begin,” he whispers. “Come with me.”
While the crowd around us drifts toward the tables set up on the other side of the sea lion enclosure, Hayes guides me away from the light. It’s a gradual departure, when no one’s looking, as if he’s done this before. He slips behind the catering truck, where there’s a break in the security line, and then we’re sneaking deeper into a darker part of the zoo.
Nothing is fully dark—not in the city—but the noises of the party are fading behind us, and I can feel the tension leaving him with every step we take away.
“How many times have you disappeared to hide at events like this?” I whisper.
“All of the times.”
“Oh.”
“Oh?”
“I thought you wanted to sneak away and be alone with me and do something naughty but absolutely irresistible.”
He turns me against the back of a building, replies, “Bluebell, for the first time in my life, that’s exactly what I want to do,” and then he’s kissing me.
Everything that’s felt messy or awkward or off-kilter tonight fades away into the utter bliss that comes with his mouth on mine.
My own shoulders relax as my clit throbs and my breasts tighten. He grips my ass through my dress, and I curse the material for being so form-fitting.
Even if I wanted to rip the material and wrap my legs around him, I would’ve needed to be doing some kind of Amelia Shawcross workout to make it happen.
“Fuck, I needed this,” he says.
“Your crowd is hard.”
He tilts his hips against me, a rueful smile crossing his features in the dim light. “Not as hard as I am.”
I arch my belly into the thick ridge of his erection. “You can’t possibly go through the rest of the night like this. Whatever shall we do?”
“Begonia—”
I tug at his belt. “Shh. Everyone’s at the party.”
“Just when I think you can’t possibly get any more perfect.”
“There aren’t any reporters stalking in the bushes, are there?”