JACINDA LOCKWOOD CAME TO BE seen. The newest Bond girl stepped onto the red carpet in a neon teal reproduction of a classic Gucci dress—practically daring you to stare directly at her. I couldn’t—it was like looking into the sun. Though, I did see enough to suggest that the strapless number—in December!—might have benefited from a bit of a hoick.

Chapter 12

Chapter
12

GABE WAS WAITING FOR ME at the end of the red carpet.

He looked incredible, and when he gave me a hug—which I tried desperately not to sink into—I could smell his cologne. It was probably very expensive and smelled very, very nice. Like the world’s most exclusive cedar tree.

There was also a hint of whisky on his breath.

“You made it,” he said, as if there was some universe in which I might not show. “You look gorgeous.”

I twisted on my heels a little, flustered not just at the compliment but at the way he was looking at me. He leaned back as he did it, as if he was trying to see all of me at once, and then ran his hand over his mouth.

My legs started trembling.

“You look gorgeous too,” I said.

He laughed.

“Come on,” he said, taking my hand and tucking it into the crook of his elbow.

So.

Jo was wrong.

The one thing I couldn’t quite discern was whether or not Gabe considered this a continuation of our interview. If he was planning to show me his world just so I could write about it, or if this was something else. Something more.

It seemed very unlikely that it was, but still.

I needed to know.

But the moment we were led down the red carpet, I was hit with a wall of noise and lights so intense and abrupt that I stumbled, and almost fell.

Gabe’s arm went around my waist, pulling me up against him.

“Gabe! Gabe!” people were shouting.

Flashbulbs were going off around us, and that’s all I could see, an unending strobe of bright, white pops of light. I tried to smile, even though I felt like I was baring my teeth more than making any sort of attractive expression. It was as if I’d forgotten how to grin normally.

“We’ll just give them a few shots,” Gabe said, leaning his head toward mine, his cheek almost grazing my forehead. “Take a deep breath, and smile.”

I nodded, following his instructions, as the crowd threw questions at us.

“Who’s your date?”

“Are you excited about Bond?”

“When do you start filming?”

“Who’s your date?”

“Who are you wearing?”

“Does Oliver know you’re coming tonight?”

“Who’s your date?”