Free Mistress: At What Price? by Anne Oliver Page B

everyone knew it was him she’d be with at the end of the evening.
    Mariel stared at the grim-faced man before her. She knew she looked good, the dress wasn’t vulgar, justsexy, so she refused to feel hurt or embarrassed or any of those vulnerable emotions. Temper was preferable, but it wouldn’t be wise moments before they were due downstairs. ‘No, I don’t have a wrap. I don’t need one.’ She barely restrained herself from raising her voice. ‘And, to use your own words, I’m going to wear this dress because I can . And I can—very well.’ She snatched up her bag.
    She had to pass him to get to the door, but a light hand on her arm stopped her.
    â€˜I apologise,’ he said stiffly. ‘You took me by surprise, that’s all. You look sensational.’
    Too little, too late, she thought, but she could try to be gracious—they had an entire evening in the public eye to get through. ‘All right.’ She let him curl her hand around his arm. ‘We’ll put it behind us and try to enjoy the evening.’
    But how would the evening end, when the ball was over and an annoyed Cinderella retired to her suite with her suddenly stuffy prince?

CHAPTER SIX
    M ARIEL watched the floor numbers blink as the elevator descended. They stood apart, but their respective fragrances mingled, their breathing the only sound in a stilted silence until the doors opened and Dane took her hand and wrapped it around his arm once more.
    The hotel lobby was alive with light and movement. Airline staff checking in, tourists heading out for the city’s nightspots. Photographers snapping their arrival and that of other important guests, interviewing Dane about this evening’s event and, as expected, their renewed acquaintance.
    â€˜What are your plans now, Ms Davenport?’ asked a journalist, shoving a microphone in her face.
    â€˜I intend to start my own fashion label.’
    â€˜And your relationship with Mr Huntington?’
    She met Dane’s eyes and smiled coyly, allowed him to pull her a little closer and encircle her waist. For the publicity. ‘We’re just good friends.’ Let the press put whatever slant on that they chose.
    They passed a glorious Chihuly glass sculpture on their way down the pink marble staircase to the ballroom, where black mirrors on the ceiling reflectedthe glitter from crystal chandeliers, candlelight and a fortune in jewellery. An orchestra was playing light classical, and the scents of fresh flowers mingled with the latest French perfumes while several prominent politicians, including those holding the youth and education portfolios, mingled with society’s elite.
    Their table was the closest to the podium and filled with The Important People. She didn’t feel up to any in-depth conversation tonight, and to Mariel’s relief Justin’s wife, Cass, was seated beside her, looking chic in a simple black halterneck gown, her chestnut-brown hair curling softly about her face.
    â€˜I’ve seen your photo in magazines, but it’s exciting to finally meet you in person,’ Cass said when Dane introduced them. ‘And that’s the most stunning dress I’ve ever seen.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘I wish I could get into something like that.’
    â€˜Thank you,’ Mariel replied, unable to resist tossing a glance over her shoulder at Dane, who was standing behind her chair with Justin.
    Leaning close, he ran his hand lightly over the nape of her neck and halfway down her spine and murmured, ‘I think the challenge will be in the getting out of it.’
    â€˜I heard that, Dane Huntington,’ Cass said, her eyes twinkling up at him.
    As she was supposed to, Mariel knew. ‘Indeed it will be,’ she murmured back, then turned to Cass with a smile. ‘So, you and Justin are recently married? I love weddings; tell me about yours.’
    As Mariel had predicted, Dane moved away