Love Bug (The Prescotts Book 3) by Tara Wyatt (electric book reader .TXT) 📗

them, camera flashes strobing. Willa had to remind herself to stand up straight, to not curl into herself under the intensity of the scene. The red carpet was a crush of people in evening wear, posing for photographers, laughing, chatting.

“Max! Max! Over here! Max!” As they moved down the red carpet, they stopped to pose for photographs several times and with each step, Willa’s legs felt a little weaker.

“You doing okay?” he asked, his head dipping low so he could be heard over the noise.

She nodded. “Yeah. It’s just a little overwhelming. I knew there’d be a red carpet and photographers, but this is intense.”

“A few more minutes and we should be at the door.” Everyone who arrived got shuttled along the same path, and so unless they wanted to attract attention by trying to cut through the crowd, they were stuck waiting.

Willa felt a light tap on her shoulder. “Miss, could you move to the side please?” asked one of the event’s staff members. “There are requests for photographs of Mr. Prescott alone.”

Max’s grip tightened on her hand. “Then people will be disappointed.”

“I don’t mind. Really, it’s okay,” she said, glancing down at the red carpet. “I’ll just be right over there.”

Max frowned, the lines on his forehead deepening. “Willa, you don’t—”

“You’re a local celebrity, Max. I understand.”

His frown only deepened, but he gave a small nod and then let go of her hand, watching as she followed the staff member to the designated area for the other plebes like her. Cameras flashed and the crowd moved around her as she kept her eyes on Max, watching as he posed for photos, looking ridiculously handsome in his tux. Watching as he moved farther away from her, moving with ease through this world of wealth and glitz and glamour that he was clearly used to in a way that she didn’t think she’d ever fully be.

After several more minutes, he returned to find her, taking her hand and leading her inside. The interior of the museum had been transformed into an opulent sea of flowers and glimmering lights cascading from the ceiling on invisible wires, making them look like falling stars. Spotlights cast soft pink and gold light on the space. Groupings of round tables, adorned with thick white tablecloths and enormous flower arrangements, sat off to the right, while a bar and dance floor occupied the space to the left. Immediately ahead was an enormous art installation made entirely of lights and flowers, seeming to hover off the ground. Signs in an elegant font indicated that the auction was taking place in an area off the main concourse, and there were sign up times available for private tours of some of the exhibits.

Everywhere she looked all she could see was extravagant beauty, wealth, and privilege. She tightened her grip on Max’s hand, her pulse feeling slow and sluggish as she took it all in. She couldn’t help but feel as though she didn’t belong here. That everyone would take one look at her and wonder what Max was doing with someone so ordinary when he could have anyone he wanted, including the famous supermodel who was currently devouring him with her deep brown eyes.

He led her toward the bar, and she was grateful. Tonight was special and she wanted to enjoy it, not be caught up in insecurities. She gratefully accepted the glass of white wine he held out to her, taking a small sip. Before she could say anything to him, a group of men approached him, one of them clapping Max on the shoulder and after he’d introduced her, they chatted for a few minutes about the stock market and investment opportunities. As soon as they’d moved away, another group came over, wanting to talk to him about a potential spot on their board of directors. And then another group, apparently some guys he knew from Columbia, where he’d done his MBA. And then another group, this one mostly women, who wanted to talk to him about another investment opportunity. They ignored Willa entirely, even after he’d introduced her. By the time they’d left, her glass of wine was gone and she was feeling more and more like scenery.

“Max. Haven’t seen you in a while. Didn’t know you’d be here,” said another man as he approached, his hands in his pockets. He cocked his head toward Willa. “Who’s this?”

Willa glanced over at Max and found that his shoulders had gone tight, his jaw clenched. “This is my girlfriend, Willa Banks.” He hesitated slightly, then said, “Willa, this is my father, Quentin Prescott.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said, but he didn’t answer her as he tapped his fingers against his mouth.

“Banks. Banks. Oh, of the Banks Hotel Group, yes?”

She frowned slightly and shook her head. “Um, no.”

“Well, who’s your father?”

“Uh…no one you’d know,” she said, thrown by his question. “He’s a retired high school biology teacher from upstate.”

“Oh.” He shot Max a disappointed look. “I just assumed, since she’s clearly not a model or something.”

Max’s nostrils flared and he blew out a noisy breath. “You’re such an asshole, you know that?”

Quentin’s eyes went wide in mock innocence. “What? Did I touch a nerve?” He leaned toward Max, his lip curling into a sneer. “If you’re going to slum it, you should at least pick someone with a set of tits.”

Max’s fist cocked back and then, suddenly, another man was there, one Willa didn’t know, holding Max back. Max surged against him but then dropped his arm, shrugging out of the man’s grip.

“Take a walk, Uncle Quentin,” said the man, who, now that Willa was really looking at him, was drop dead gorgeous. He had thick, dark hair and was nearly as tall as Max, but with a leaner build. And given how he’d addressed Quentin, apparently he was Max’s cousin. Which made sense. Willa could see the slight resemblance in the chiseled jaw and full lips.

Quentin laughed. “Noah. Guess they really will let just about anyone in