The elevator doors had barely closed when Mr. Starr began staring at Amelia with an intensity that bordered on alarming.
Amelia instinctively leaned back, her discomfort evident.
Noticing her reaction, Mr. Starr quickly tried to explain, waving his hands frantically.
“Wait, don’t misunderstand! I just want to get that outfit off you!”
Amelia stared at him, speechless.
What kind of line is that?
Realizing how his words sounded, he immediately backtracked, flustered.
“No, no, that came out wrong! I’m a massive fan of the designer, Joey. Seeing her iconic piece in person… I got overexcited. My apologies, I didn’t mean to be creepy.”
Amelia let out a breath, half-amused, half-annoyed.
“It’s fine.
I know a few defensive moves, just in case.”
“You know Joey personally?” Mr. Starr asked, his eyes lighting up with hope.
Amelia shook her head.
“No.”
“But you must be close with her assistant, Leaf, then? So you’ve never even met Joey?” he pressed, suspicion lingering in his voice.
Joey was famously reclusive, and even their assistant, Leaf, was a figure of mystery.
“Never,” she replied calmly.
“Leaf promised me a meeting if I helped out tonight, and I delivered! So tonight, I finally get to meet my idol!” Mr. Starr beamed, ecstatic.
“Congratulations,” Amelia muttered, her eye twitching slightly.
As they stepped out of the elevator, Mr. Starr turned to her.
“Well, my work here is done.
Best of luck!”
Safe travels, Mr. Starr,” Amelia said with a polite smile.
Earlier, while still in Damien’s car, she had texted her assistant, Emily Carter: Sabrina might try to expose a ‘fake’ dress tonight.
I need a countermove.
Help me turn the tables.
Emily had handled it reasonably well—though when Amelia’s first instinct was confrontation, Emily had wisely vetoed it.
“Amelia.”
She turned at the sound of the familiar voice.
It was Damien.
“What are you doing down here?” she asked, surprised.
“The party lost its appeal,” he said, walking over to stand before her.
“Feel like getting some air?”
“Sure,” she agreed with a nod.
As they walked, she fired off another text to Emily: You little troublemaker, how could you agree to that?
Joey doesn’t make public appearances.
Emily replied almost instantly with a laughing emoji: Relax!
I told Mr. Starr the meeting is postponed.
We have time to figure it out.
Distracted by her phone, Amelia missed a step on the curb.
Damien’s arm shot out, catching her around the waist.
“Careful.”
She grabbed his arm for balance, wincing as a jolt of pain shot through her ankle.
“Are you hurt?” Damien asked, his voice laced with concern.
“I think I twisted it,” she said, biting her lip.
Without another word, Damien bent down and scooped her up into his arms.
Startled by the sudden movement, Amelia instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck for support.
“I’m okay, really! You can put me down,” she insisted, flustered.
She hadn’t expected him to carry her.
“We’re going to get it checked,” Damien stated firmly.
“It’s not that bad, no need for a hospital,” she protested.
Ignoring her objections, he carried her to his car, placed her gently in the passenger seat, and even leaned over to buckle her seatbelt.
“I brought you to this event. Your well-being is my responsibility.”
Amelia stole a quiet glance at his profile.
Good grief, he’s ridiculously handsome from every angle.
That furrow in his brow… was he genuinely worried about her?
“Wait, this isn’t the way to the hospital,” she noted, puzzled by the route.
Damien kept his eyes on the road, his tone leaving no room for argument.
“We’re going to my place.”