“I want you, Andie.”
My stomach flipped.
“Do you hear me? I want you.” He leaned forward so that the next few words were whispered right up against my ear. “I choose you.”
His hand was on my lower back, gathering me against him. There was no hesitation in his voice, no second-guessing. Just because Caroline was in Rio didn’t necessarily mean he’d lied to me.
I pressed my hands to his chest and glanced up. “After the dinner, meet me back at your condo. We can talk there.”
A slow smirk unraveled across his lips—we both knew we’d be doing more than talking.
“Here are your drinks,” the bartender said with a bored tone. If he’d noticed our flirtation, he didn’t act like it. We reached for our cups and walked back to the table with a healthy distance between us.
“There’s just one hitch: Caroline will be here.”
My heart sunk. “Here here?”
He nodded. “She was invited by the organizers after our families released the news of the betrothal. It would be bigger news if she didn’t show up, so we agreed that we would show up separately and ignore questions about the betrothal.”
I frowned. “Am I missing something? If it’s over, can’t you just say it’s over?”
He shook his head. “It’s not that simple. The press in England are ruthless. When the story breaks, it won’t be simple and it won’t be pleasant. I’d rather not deal with it until after I’m done swimming next week. She’s agreed to play along for now and keep the separation discreet.”
My heart sank. Of course. Freddie hadn’t even started competing. He had his first race the very next day, and where most of the athletes were focused solely on swimming, Freddie might as well have been trying to put a stop to World War III. He didn’t deserve to have all this petty drama on his plate, and I was partly to blame for putting it there. I couldn’t help but feel disappointed and insecure, but I swallowed my doubts once again. If he told me he’d talked to Caroline, then he had. I could deal with our relationship being a secret for a few more days, especially when I took a moment to admire him as we walked back.
I smiled. “I like your suit.”
It was black and fitted, and with his British accent, it almost felt like I was flirting with James Bond himself.
He pressed his hand to my lower back, guiding me to my seat. “I think you’ll like it more once I’ve taken it off.”
My cheeks flushed. We were back at the table where Kinsley and Sophie were talking. Another few athletes had found their seats. If any of them had been paying close attention, they would have heard him.
“Freddie,” I warned, trying to contain my blush.
“Oh my goodness, finally,” a soft British accent spoke behind me. “This place is like a circus.”
I spun toward the voice and inhaled a shaky breath as my eyes locked with Caroline Montague. Coifed blonde hair, discreetly sexy black cocktail dress, impossibly expensive shoes—she was hard to absorb in person, like seeing a Monet for the first time. Her plump lips spread into a smile as her eyes slid over Freddie, then she looked down, down, down, and paused when her gaze hit Freddie’s hand resting on the small of my back. I stepped forward to introduce myself, but she beat me to it with a harmonic string of practiced words and a smile that only made her more radiant.
“You must be Andie Foster.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Andie
THE ORGANIZERS OF the media dinner either had a very sadistic sense of humor, or they were setting me up for a hidden camera prank show; there was no other way to explain the seating arrangement. Out of all the tables in the banquet hall, I was assigned to the one with Sophie Boyle, Freddie, and Caroline. Worse yet, Caroline was assigned to the seat directly beside mine. When she’d walked up to find her name card, she’d smiled good-naturedly, but my body had filled with dread. I felt like the dirty mistress. Am I the dirty mistress? They weren’t even dating. They hardly knew each other. She had agreed to end the betrothal. So why couldn’t I meet Caroline’s eyes?
“More water?”
I gripped my napkin in my lap and stared down at my place setting, trying to think of how I could get out of having to sit through the rest of dinner. They hadn’t even served the first course yet, and they were still seating people across the room. I couldn’t do it. My stomach hurt and I was fairly sure that if I tried to eat anything, it’d just come right back up.
“Andie,” Kinsley said, jostling my arm. “She’s asking if you want more water.”