about going out. But you know what—he never even made it home. He called from the airport to say he had to go out of town for a couple days.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“I’m so embarrassed about all of this. Is this my husband or a stranger? I don’t know anymore.”
“You’ll get past this. I know you will.”
“What if we don’t? What if he leaves me?”
“No. Oh my God, no. Listen, there were many times my father left my mother waiting after promising he’d be home at a certain time. Charles has a high-profile career. He’s working on a high-profile case.”
“Then why did he say I’m pushing him away?”
“Couples have arguments like that all the time. Say things they don’t mean.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I am. Annie, you had an argument. That’s all.”
Annelise seems to consider my words but doesn’t comment. Instead, she gets to her feet and straightens her buttercup-yellow gown. It looks fantastic on her, highlighting her blond hair.
“We’d better get back out there,” she says.
“You’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” she assures me, and thankfully, she does seem fine. “Let me freshen up my makeup, and I’ll be good to go.”
We both spend a couple minutes retouching face powder and lipstick, then we head out the door.
I bump right into someone entering, and offer a quick apology before I see who it is. It’s Arlene Nash, and unlike me, she doesn’t offer an apology. Instead, she gives me the quick once-over, checking out my gown. Her lips turn ever so slightly in a barely noticeable frown.
“Arlene,” I say. I have to admit she looks gorgeous in a form-fitting black gown. I saw the same gown at Fendi and almost bought it myself.
She forces a smile. “How nice to see you, Claudia. How are the wedding plans going?”
“It’s going to be the event of the season.” I can’t help boasting a little. I’ve often heard rumors that Arlene is interested in Adam. When I started dating him, she stopped inviting me to events.
“I can’t wait,” she says, but I don’t believe her.
Arlene continues into the bathroom, followed by a woman I don’t recognize.
“Whoa,” Annelise comments. “She’s a royal bitch, isn’t she?”
“You’ve met her only once and you figured that out.”
“I’m guessing there’s a story there.”
“Yeah, but I won’t bore you with it. Let’s find Charles.”
There’s something electric about Adam when he speaks. Something captivating. He has the power to mesmerize people, make them stop whatever they’re doing and listen to him, just as they are now.
And he’s so natural when he’s speaking before a crowd. It’s obvious to me and anyone who knows him that he should be in the public arena.
“The mother came to me in tears, and told me that the vacation to the Turks and Caicos brought a smile to her son’s face that she hadn’t seen since he’d first become ill. For the first time in a year and a half, he was able to be a child. To laugh and have fun without worry about treatments.” Adam pauses as his eyes move over the crowd. “That, ladies and gentlemen, is why I do what I do. It’s important work. The most important work.” There are nods and hums of agreement. “I thank each and every one of you for coming out tonight to support this great cause. With your help, we’ll make every child in need’s dream come true in Georgia!”
The crowd erupts in applause. I smile at Adam with admiration. He raises a hand in a wave to everyone, then, as the applause dies, makes his way off the stage.
I wrap my arms around him. “That was a great speech, Adam. You knock ’em dead every time.”
“Thank you, babe.”
I’m by his side as he spends time shaking hands. He’s already working the crowd like he’s on the campaign trail.
After several minutes, he takes my hand. “I’ve got to escape for a minute.”
He whisks me away. We hurry across the floor of Atlanta’s prestigious Supper Club. It’s a members-only type club, and you have to be invited to join. Of course, on a night like this, anyone able to pay the ticket price for dinner—the proceeds of which go to the Wishes Come True Foundation—is allowed entry.
I’m about to ask Adam where he’s taking me when he opens the door to what looks like a utility room. He ushers me inside.
Before the door clicks shut, he’s pushing my gown up to my waist. “Adam,” I say cautiously.
“I’ve had enough of everyone out there. I want to eat your pussy.”
I open my mouth to protest, but he’s already pulling my panties down. When he flicks his tongue over me, he moans long and loud, like my nectar is the sweetest thing on earth.
“I’ve been wanting to do this all night.”
I know there are five hundred guests just outside that door, but I can’t resist my man. And I don’t really want to. I doubt anyone else will venture into this utility closet, so I feel safe.
His hot tongue laves my clit, and now I’m the one who moans. I grip his shoulders to keep my balance.
I’m in the throes of passion when I hear the door creak open. I jump back so fast, I slip and nearly fall.
“Shit,” I utter, trying to right my dress. It’s then that I realize Adam isn’t hurrying like I am. In fact, he’s still on his knees, smiling as he swipes the back of his hand across his mouth.
“Adam!” I whisper sharply.
“Relax,” he says, stroking my hand. “I’m expecting company.”
“What?”
“Hello?” someone calls out. A man’s voice.
Now Adam gets to his feet. “Around the corner,” he answers.
My stomach takes a serious nosedive, and my breath leaves me in a rush. “Adam…”
“It’s a surprise, babe.”
Before I can say another word, an attractive white man rounds the corner. A moment later, I recognize him. Jason—the bartender who helped us create our own special drink for our wedding!
“What’s going on here?” I ask. My voice is shaky, and I feel sick. And scared.
“You
