Page 53 of Threads That Bind Us
Despite the unbearable need to hear what she wants to say, I know it’s for the best. There’s already so much happening tonight. Neither of us can handle whatever we can feel simmering between us.
The unease means that I don’t warn Gwen about anything that’s about to happen at this event, which I realize as we’re pulling up.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe out, reaching into the center console to grab the valet key and trying to avoid touching her. “I should have told you about the event.”
A smile flashes across her face as she smooths over the indents she’s made in her hand.
“It’s okay. I assumed I’d just follow your lead.” She gives me a tight, nervous smile that has my chest clenching.
The valet lets me out of the car, and I wave off the second attendant so I can open her door myself. When she slips her hand into mine, a shudder runs up my spine.
I hold her coat out to her, the evening unseasonably cold for the beginning of summer. With her back to my chest, and her scent of lemon and amber surrounding me, I lose all sense of reservation.
“I trust you,” I whisper, lifting her hair from where it’s trapped under her collar. “And I think I’d much prefer following your lead.”
It’s a stupid risk, ramping myself up like this before an event where we’ll be surrounded by people. But it’s worth it when Gwen glances over her shoulder, her cheeks rosy and eyes round with surprise, and only hesitates a moment before reaching behind her and slipping her hand into mine.
The ballroom is packed to the brim with people laden with luxury, sipping top shelf liquor and chatting around high top tables. Despite the bodies moving around the room, the air is chilly, and Gwen tucks herself closer to me, shivering without her coat, which we left at the check. I slip my arm around her shoulder as we step into the fray.
I notice familiar faces—other foundation and non-profit executives, high-level government officials, donors with pockets far deeper than mine. We may have been invited to this dinner, but the price of a seat is well more than the value of most people’s cars.
“People recognize you,” Gwen whispers as we make our way through the crowd. A few eyes flicker our way, some with nods that I return, some avoiding my gaze completely.
“The Costa Family Foundation is well known in these circles,” I say casually, snagging a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and handing it to Gwen. We find anempty table, and I find it difficult to remove my arm from around her shoulder so she can sip her drink.
“Some of them look afraid of you,” she says, almost like a question rather than an observation.
“Afraid ofus,” I rebut, winking at her.
She rolls her eyes, but the corners of her mouth pull into a smile around the rim of her glass.
“I thought your family’s work was a bit more…discrete.” Her eyes flicker around the room, many of the guests averting their eyes as soon as hers land on them.
“Most of them are only aware of the work of the foundation, but the legacy of The Syndicate is well known among those whose families have crossed our paths in the past. Even if they don’t know why they should fear us, their parents and grandparents have warned them to stay in our good graces, or to stay invisible.” I smile and nod over Gwen’s head at the man waving at me, who starts making his way toward us. “But don’t worry, tonight should be filled with more allies than enemies.”
Gwen starts to respond, but the Administrator cuts in.
“Mr. Costa, so good to have you here. Your mother was too kind, sending a donation and her son in her absence. I hope she and your father are enjoying their anniversary trip.”
Clara’s been busy spreading rumors, it seems. There’s a pang in my chest, the memory of seeing her in the hospital for the first time etched into the back of my eyelids.
“Good to see you. And I’ll pass on your well-wishes. They both seem to be enjoying themselves, to the point that they forget to check in with us.” Dr. Loden laughs, and I slip my arm back around Gwen, finding comfort in the soft skin of her shoulder under my hand. “Let me introduce you to my partner, Guinevere. Gwen, this is the Administrator of the Federal Aviation Administration, Dr. Christopher Loden.”
Gwen holds out her hand and he shakes it, smiling widely at her.
“Nice to meet you, Dr. Loden,” she says, sweet and unphased.
“Lovely to meet you, Gwen, and wonderful to see you settled down, Charlie,” he laughs, shooting me a look over Gwen’s head. “We thought you might be an eternal bachelor.”
“Just had to wait for the stars to align,” I reply, unable to suppress my smile at how true the words are. “Are we going to be blessed with the company of your husband tonight?”
Dr. Loden rolls his eyes and turns over his shoulder, searching the crowd.
“He’s here somewhere, probably annoying the DEA staff like he enjoys doing so much,” he says, his smile indulgent and amused, before turning back to us. “I hope you don’t mind if we talk a bit of business over dinner. The Secretary has been asking about local non-profit organizations that have international arms to assist trafficking victims identified at airports, and few have as far of a reach as the Costas.”
“We’d be happy to discuss.” I glance down at Gwen, who already has her eyes on me, some indiscernible look in her eyes.
Maybe it’s the overt affection throwing her off—this is the most we’ve touched each other since meeting. Again, I’m reminded of what I don’t know—does she want to touch me as badly as I want her, or is this simply an obligation?