I was miserable.
The man I was chasing wasn't here. Or, I hadn't found him yet. But I'd looked, stomped my way across every foot of the place until my aching feet wished I had shoved them into more comfortable shoes.
I swirled the drink in my hand. It had been hard to turn away every waiter, they swarmed like flies—trying to be helpful, but in the end, making me feel like I'd buckled and given in to their efforts.
At least the wine was tasty.
Leaning on the wall, I felt the sensation of hot eyes watching me. I might have missed it if I wasn't already so on edge looking for someone. Blinking, I turned, spotting a stranger watching me.
He wasn't anyone I knew, just a guy who could have blended into the crowd in his black suit and James Bond bow-tie. Not someone I cared to talk to, but he'd caught my eye, and now, he was swaggering my way.
Ah, fuck, I thought silently. I didn't need this right now.
He stood over me, a glass extended, an offering of peace. “Why, hello there! Sorry if you keep hearing this all night, but I just had to tell you, that dress looks amazing on you.”
Blushing nervously, I looked side to side. How did I get out of this politely?
Both of his hands had drinks in them. He clinked my empty glass with a full one, indicating it was for me. “Uh, thanks,” I said. Setting my champagne flute on a table, I took the one he offered. “You're very kind.”
“Kind?” His teeth were off-white, his smile no where near as nice as Kite's or Jacob's. “My dear, I'm only being honest. You're a lovely creature. What's your name?”
Ugh. I needed to escape. “Marina,” I said, twisting the stem of the glass. I was debating on excusing myself. Would he get the message? I was not used to guys hitting on me so openly.
“Marina, that's beautiful.” He tilted his glass and beamed. “I'm Baxter. Cheers, to the lady in red.”
He started to drink, and since it would free me from speaking, I moved to copy him. I didn't get that far. The hand on my shoulder startled me, fast fingers plucking my drink away.
“Kite!” I gasped, boggled by his appearance.
His arm snaked around my middle, a deliberate motion that screamed, “This is mine.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, winking and making it clear he wasn't sorry at all. “But I need to steal my lovely wife for a minute.”
I was burning with shock, but I still caught the look of disgust Baxter gave us both. I also saw how he stabbed his glare at me, looking for a ring. Kite had closed his fingers tight, hiding my hand from prying eyes.
“I didn't know,” Baxter muttered. Did he scowl at my drink in Kite's hand? Was he regretting giving it to me?
Pulling me towards the gardens, Kite laughed in his throat. “Forget it. People try to steal her all the time. Have a good night, don't do anything stupid, okay?”
Baxter flushed, watching us until we were out in the cool night air. When we were a few feet from the door, Kite let me go, his eyes twinkling.
“What the hell was that?” I asked, though no anger touched my voice.
“That asshole was bothering you,” he said. Lifting the drink I'd been holding, he tipped it, poured it onto the grass. “Plus, he thought it'd be a good idea to slip you something. What a piece of shit.”
My mouth had fallen open. I stared at the wet ground, then looked back up to Kite. “He tried to drug me? How did you know?”
He answered with a casual shrug. “I was watching.”
He was watching.
Spying on my movements and habits wasn't normal for anyone to do. But I couldn't be upset, he'd saved me. Hugging myself, wishing for my jacket, I felt my smile growing. “Thank you, husband.”
Kite's grin went ear to ear. “Anytime, wife. How is the night treating you?”
That made me falter. “Not great. I haven't found him. I assume you haven't, either.”
Shaking his head, Kite toyed with the side of his tie. “Nothing.”
Lifting my chin, I gazed out over the gardens. We were near the hedges, a fountain tinkling in the darkness. The museum's door glowed like a dragon's mouth. No one was near us, they'd gathered closer to the warmth inside.
“Do you think Jacob found anything?” I asked softly.
“I doubt it. If there was anything to find, I think we would know by now.” I must have flinched, because he stepped closer, hurrying to correct himself. “That doesn't mean this guy won't show up, Marina. It's still early.”
He was right, but my gut said otherwise. Looking at his hand, I studied the empty glass. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
Reaching out, I touched his wrist—then took the champagne flute. “If the guy hadn't tried to roofie me, would you have still stepped in?”
Kite's mouth was a tight line, his voice just as tense. “Yes. I would have.”