6. Ethereal

As I stepped into the hall for the night's event, I was struck by how much effort the sponsors had put into bringing the Formula One teams together for a glamorous evening away from the fierce competition of the racing circuit.

A loud throat-clearing beside me caught my attention, and I looked up instantly to see Graham Scazard towering over my frame, a beautiful smile on his face.

"You look ethereal." He said, and all the air got sucked out of the room.

My stomach did an annoying, fluttery flip-flop.

I blinked up at his crushing, dreamy, green eyes.

'I look ethereal'

That was the best compliment of my life.

Oh, how good it felt to be seen.

He stepped back and raked his gaze down my outfit. "Gosh!" He whispered.

The outfit was beautiful, a little revealing along the thigh, but it was perfect!

I never dress like this.

Jeffery liked me covered, and I always obliged. In all the years I spent with him, I never wore a dress without sleeves.

He didn't like it, said it made my arm look like a “big mummy,” and eventually, I stopped liking sleeveless outfits.

Little by little, everything Jeffery liked eventually became things I convinced myself to like too, until I could barely tell the difference between his preference and mine.

Slowly, I followed Graham’s gaze down my dress that had a sweetheart neckline and a soft, curve-hugging lower that made my ass look…well, Melody said it looked “bam-bam.”

Graham let out a low and very slow whistle that told me Melody knew exactly what she was saying.

“God, Catalina." he shook his head, smiling as though I'd personally inconvenienced him. "You are drop dead gorgeous."

Am I?

He thinks so?

Nerves fluttered through me, and heat flushed up my neck and cheeks.

“Thank you,” I replied sharply.

“No, thank you. For coming." He gave me a teasing expression. “Now, play along and tell me I look good, too.”

My smile was light as I flicked my eyes over him in his suit that was tailored perfectly to his tall, broad frame; it was custom-made and expensive.

I knew this from years of working alongside Jeffery’s wardrobe manager, Ernest.

I shrugged, trying hard to give him the unimpressed look. “Nice outfit.”

“But?” he arched his brow as if he knew I had something else to say.

“I would have styled it differently,” I replied.

“Exactly,” he said in a low voice, leaning in with a rakish grin and glittering eyes. “You're an asset, Catalina. How about you also become my personal stylist? 50k upfront, 35k monthly retainer f*e.”

“You are really bad with money,” I muttered under my breath, grabbing a glass of wine from a server passing by. "Look how you're throwing it around.”

He shrugged, “I work hard for the money.”

“So, it's not Daddy's money?”

He smiled, “Potato, potahto. Come on now, let me introduce you to some of my close pals. I need you to get acquainted with all of them.”

"Why?" I asked, flabbergasted.

Jeffery never introduced me to anyone. In fact, he always stated openly in all his interviews that he was single.

And whenever he got home, he would tell me his world as a celebrity Formula One driver was entirely different and classier than mine as a children’s toy vendor.

Hence one of his numerous reasons for keeping me away from his world.

What a mean thing to say to someone.

"Why? I asked Graham again as he tilted his frame closer to mine.

“For starters, You're going to be my wife, Catalina.”

"No, I will not-"

“Oh, look at that,” a photographer gestured at us, interrupting me. “Let’s get a photo of the cute couple.”

Before I could protest that we were not exactly together, Graham slipped his hand around my waist and pulled me against him.

His scent surrounded me; warm, spicy, and woodsy, like sandalwood and cloves.

From either the intensely masculine way he smelled or the way his body heat warmed me, my stomach dipped.

“Relax,” he murmured into my ear, giving my waist a tiny squeeze. “You’re so tense. It's just a harmless picture.”

“Stop it,” I murmured back.

“Let me take you out some time, Catalina,” he said quietly as the camera clicked.

I snorted, even as delight shot through me. “Once we get off this Island, I’ll either be working or catching some rest. No free time.”

His quiet laugh tickled my cheek. “Scared princess.”

I really did laugh this time, and the camera flash went off.

Stars burst in my vision.

“Lovely,” the photographer said, snapping away. “What a beautiful couple.”

I opened and closed my mouth like a fish. The photographer finally got enough shots and left us alone.

I stepped away from Graham, putting some distance between us.

His hands slipped into his pockets as he regarded me, gaze dipping down to my neckline, so fast I barely caught it.

“Come on, Princess. Let's go.”

He introduced me to a few members of his team who were present at the party.

There was Maximus, DeBronx Motorsports' second F1 driver; then Jonathan, one of the big guys in their technical team; and there was Jordan, Graham's personal trainer, and Senazo, his personal PR manager and friend.

There were also Nat, Ben, Gideon, Kenny, Ethan, and Luke, who were fellow F1 drivers from other teams.

They all seemed chill with Graham and quite friendly when he introduced me as his friend.

Their behaviour was in total contrast to the picture Jeffery painted of their community.

He painted them as monsters who saw women beneath them, and according to him, that was the main reason he never wanted me hanging out with him during these sorts of events.

And that still makes me wonder why he brought me to this one.

The party lasted till three in the morning, and then the after-party was moved to a private lounge in the resort, where the event turned out even more interesting as earlier formalities fizzled out, the atmosphere transforming into playfulness, cheers, fun, and games.

Graham and I paired together to play a name game that we lost to Gideon and Luke in the final round.

Standing up, I strolled across the room to get a glass of water that nearly slipped from my hands when I ran smack into...Jeffery.

“Catalina!”

F*ck!

My heart stuttered to a stop, and I squeezed my fists to keep the glass of water from hitting the floor.

“What the hell are you wearing, and what are you doing here without me?” Jeffery asked, his eyes gliding down my body as he took in my outfit.

He was holding an almost empty champagne flute.

His eyes lingered on my heels, his brows furrowing in confusion before slowly returning to my face.

“You sure never looked like this with me.”

Like he ever allowed me to dress any other way.

I didn't give him the same inspection because I didn't really give a shit what he was wearing or how he looked.

“I thought you left the island?” I asked him.

“Is that an answer to my question?”

His eyes trailed over my body once more, this time honing in on the exposed swells of my br£asts.

“One minute away from me and you let yourself loose like this? Showing off too much saggy skin,” he grunted, his words laced with disdain. “That’s not the kind of outfit you should be wearing.”

“Oh,” a deep voice grunted from behind me. “And what exactly do you mean by that?”

My shoulders relaxed instantly as I recognised Graham's voice.