to use the restroom,” she whispered to Nick.
“Okay. Hey, check it out. They have an omelet station. Rich people are funny.”
Nick was wonderful at going with the flow, she decided. She envied how comfortable he was with
his station in comparison to the rest of the guests. There were likely others like themselves there, but Scout couldn’t pick them out of the crowd.
Her eyes searched dimly lit doorways around the room and found a sign with fancy script. That
could be the ladies’ room. She stood and was relieved her legs were working. However, as she tucked
in her chair and took her first step, she swayed with the effects of the four glasses of champagne she’d consumed in the past twenty minutes. She needed to slow down.
She shuffled through the crowd, mindful of some eyes—mostly male—watching her make her
journey. She was so afraid Lucian might see her. She didn’t chance looking at him. Head down, she
made her way to the door she hoped was the restrooms.
Once she reached the perimeter of the ballroom, it was easier to slink by. She turned into the small
hall and spotted a woman coming out of a door. Scout pressed the door wide and breathed a sigh of
relief when she found a wall of sinks.
She took care of business and washed her hands. It was jarring, seeing herself in the full-length
mirror of the ladies’ room. In her high heels, her legs looked a mile long, especially because her dress was so short. Her butt was a tight little ridge covered in black, and her back was completely bare
except for where her hair hung past her shoulders.
“I love your dress.”
She turned and found a woman in a blue cocktail dress washing her hands. “Thank you.”
“I wish I had the guts to wear something like that. Although, I don’t know if my husband would
want to leave the house then.” She laughed. “He already gave me an earful about dragging him here
again. But what are you going to do? If it was up to him we’d never go anywhere.”
Scout laughed nervously. “Yeah.”
“Well, nice talking to you.” The woman left.
Scout glanced back at her reflection. Shit. She wished there were a service exit so she could sneak out. What was she doing there? Lucian was with a date, and she’d told him to move on. It wasn’t right
for her to come spying on him. She didn’t belong there. It was a painful and expensive lesson, but she
got it.
She pressed through the door and decided to tell Nick she changed her mind and wanted to leave.
Her head was fuzzy and it took her a moment to locate her table. Had something changed in the room?
It appeared different from this vantage point. Her footing slipped and she quickly grasped the arm of a man passing by. “Excuse me. Sorry.”
She was drunk. Hopefully the first course would be served soon and she could get something in her
stomach before they left. Or maybe they should just hit a diner. Scout looked up and spotted Lucian,
smiling as an older woman pulled his lapel to whisper something in his ear. His eyes scanned the
room, and when they landed on her it was as though a thousand silent words came crashing down.
His expression fell as their gazes locked. Whatever the woman whispering to him was saying, she
was sure he wasn’t listening. His lips parted and Scout could see the questions running through his
head as his brow creased. He glanced to her left and right, perhaps looking for her escort.
Her heart raced as her breath came fast. This was a mistake. Maybe if she left before he caught up
to her, he’d think it was a case of mistaken identity. He didn’t need to know how immature she was
and that she’d come here to spy on him.
He turned to the older woman and appeared to excuse himself. Nottingham straightened like a lap
dog prepared to follow her master, but he gestured to her with a steadying movement of his hand to
wait and handed her his drink. She looked crestfallen and frowned at the two glasses now awkwardly
filling her dainty, manicured hands.
The second he stepped in Scout’s direction, panic set in. She spotted their table and, with as much
grace as she could manage, quickly worked her way back to Nick. Her hip bumped into a guest and she
apologized quickly, glancing back to see Lucian hot on her tail.
She didn’t bother to take her seat when she reached the table. “Come on. We have to go!”
Nick glanced up at her, startled. “Already? Why?”
“Because—”
“Ms. Keats.”
Nick’s gaze darted over her shoulder. “Holy shit,” he muttered.
Scout swallowed, feeling the blood rush from her face and turned. “Mr. Patras, nice to see you
here.”
He scowled. His gaze travelled over her barely there dress and over her shoulder, giving Nick an
assessing glare. “I didn’t expect you to be in attendance.”