Mortification and hurt had her lips trembling. How dare he? She stood there indignantly, daring him
to embarrass her like that. If he followed through on his threat, she’d never forgive him.
She glanced around. People crowded them, gyrating and dancing in a world of their own. Past the
dance floor, she spotted Nottingham speaking animatedly with a woman holding a clipboard. She
pointed at them and the woman spoke into a microphone at her ear.
They had every right to be there, but knowing Lucian, he likely paid a great deal to whatever the
hell a Rose Bowl was and was a prominent sponsor. They’d lick his ass if he asked them to. He had the
power to get them kicked out, which she didn’t believe he’d truly do. But there was no way she’d give
that red-lipped slut of his the satisfaction of seeing them escorted off the premises.
Her vision shimmered with unshed tears. She pressed her lips tight and glared at him. “I hate you,”
she whispered, and marched off the dance floor.
“Ev, wait up.” Nick hustled after her.
When she passed the coat check, she halted and stomped her foot. “I forgot my bag.”
“Hey, don’t let that asshole make you cry. We were just having fun and he’s pissed because he
wants you.”
“Oh, he doesn’t want me, Nick. He just wants me to leave so he can have his little actress.”
Nick sighed. “I’ll go get your bag and meet you out front.”
He quickly turned and went back into the ballroom. She turned and rushed through the door, her
heel catching on the runner and causing her to go down with a thump that would’ve likely hurt had she
not been so drunk. Strong arms lifted her off the ground and she shoved them away, brushing the hem
of her dress down her thighs.
“Ms. Keats, are you all right?”
She looked up at the familiar voice and when she saw it was Dugan helping her up, his eyes creased
in concern, she lost it. A wall of tears shimmered and collapsed over her lashes. “No,” she sobbed.
“I’m definitely not all right, Dugan.”
His lips parted beneath his thick, handlebar mustache. “Here, let me help you.”
He gathered her in his arms and escorted her away from the door. She sniffled and wiped her nose
with the back of her hand. “I’m drunk,” she admitted pathetically. “I’m really drunk and I
embarrassed him.”
His lips pursed as he opened the passenger door of the limo and helped her sit so her feet hung over
the pavement. He squatted down and withdrew his handkerchief. She winced as he blotted the scrape
on her knee.
“Pardon my French, Ms. Keats, but any man who lets you walk away is a fucking idiot and deserves
to be embarrassed.”
Her sob cut off and she looked at him, shocked. Was she that drunk or did he really just say that?
She suddenly cracked up, giggles pouring from her lips as she draped her hand on his shoulder and
held her stomach. “You’re right, Big D. He is a fucking idiot.”
“Am I interrupting?”
She and the chauffeur drew up short. Lucian towered over them, an unimpressed and quite put-out
expression marring his beautiful face. His eyes traveled over them and stilled when he noticed her
knee.
Dugan stood and Lucian took his place. He peeled back the handkerchief and made a sound of
exasperation. “Goddamn it, Evelyn.”
“I swear it was the shoes,” she said. Dugan handed him a bottle of water from the limo and Lucian
wet the handkerchief and dabbed it over her abraded skin. She winced and hissed at the sting.
“Stay still,” he snapped.
Fucking idiot. She giggled and hiccupped. Crap, she was definitely plastered. As he doctored up her knee, Dugan producing a small bandage and some ointment, she watched how the streetlights turned
Lucian’s dark hair almost blue. Without thinking, she ran her fingers through it, and he stilled.
His gaze slowly traveled to her face and the air became charged. Dark eyes stared at her, not
seeming to trust the energy between them. “Why did you come tonight?” he whispered in a voice so
low, she could barely hear it.
“I needed—”
“Lucian!”
Jerked out of the quiet moment they each turned. Nottingham stood glaring at them, a gold wrap
draped over her long arm. Lucian stood and Scout spotted Nick waiting with his keys and her clutch.
The truck was idling behind the limo.
Dear God, when would this nightmare end?
She slowly climbed out of the limo and touched Dugan’s arm. “Thank you, Big D, for coming to my
rescue yet again.”
Nottingham scoffed and rolled her eyes. She stepped close to Lucian and handed him her wrap,
turning her back expectantly. She might as well have peed on his ankle.
Lucian held the gold wrap dumbly for a moment and then as though pulled on puppet strings, placed
it on her narrow shoulders. His fingers never touched her. He nodded to Dugan, who gestured to the
back door of the limo. Nottingham turned her picturesque face, and a slow, wicked smile curled her