While he wasn't exactly having fun, surrounded by these jackals, he didn't hate tonight. Solana made a dull evening with men in penguin suits and women tucked into dresses and high heels turn into an event worth attending. She changed everything. Infused colour into his black and white world.

At the church, as per Wolfe's instructions, they'd arrived early, and he'd quickly ushered Solana inside, assured no photographers were present. The underground garage and security at the Ritz protected her from the paparazzi stalking the reception. With her anonymity guaranteed, he could concentrate on his date.

His stunning date, in the perfect black dress that made his blood pump faster every time she crossed her legs. The tiny omission over its price didn't mar the sheer enjoyment of admiring how the silk hinted at hidden secrets beneath the full skirt. He hadn't lied exactly. The dress cost him three hundred dollars. Michelle, the owner of the boutique, insisted any dress was his at no cost. Aware of Solana's obsession with money, he'd taken a gamble and had the sales person add the tag with their commission as the price.

He'd tell her the whole truth one day. Maybe later, when he had her all to himself. If he got that privilege.

Usually by this point in the evening, he'd be dragging his escort into the cloakroom and burying himself in her for an interlude of relief from the tedious drone of people pulling on his coattails. Tonight, it wasn't necessary. At dinner, Solana berating the man whose name he'd never bothered to learn, seemed to scare off further leeches and Jack was able to enjoy his meal with her.

Solana bounced in her chair. "Let's dance."

Her enthusiasm made the notion appeal to him. On the dance floor, he could hold her. A woman warbled about the power of love as they joined the other guests, already swaying to the music.

The diamonds on her neck, twinkling in the low lights of the ballroom, caused a strange, almost pleasurable ache in the cavern of his chest. Many a night he stared at the picture of his parents on his bedside table, that necklace on his mother's neck, wondering if she'd be proud of him. James rarely spoke about his mother, her artistic endeavors of no value to the company or his life. What Jack knew he'd pieced together by reading newspaper articles, family documents and the few people in their inner circle still alive.

She'd met his father in Rome where she was spending a summer painting by day and partying by night. His father was backpacking through Europe after university and when it came time to leave Italy, she'd followed him. Then followed him home to America. James told the story like his mother knew the Blackhorne brothers would come into money someday and latched on.

Wolfe was kinder when he talked about Jack's parents. He spoke highly of her involvement in various charities, providing the company with write-offs and tax deductions. Yet, behind those fiscal benefits, Jack sensed a sadness in Wolfe's demeanour when either of his parents came up in conversation.

Unlike his head of security's underlying aversion to Solana. There was something there, something Wolfe was either hiding from him or worried about. He paid the man to protect him and his reputation, but Abraham's dirty deals or her ex-husbands criminal record were not worth the worry.

Not when the benefits far outweighed any entanglements.

Jack stared in awe at Solana. "Have I told you you're beautiful?"

She squeezed his hand, a glint in her eye. "Not nearly enough." Then her mouth twisted in a sharp turn.

His stomach seized. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Her lack of poker face would have amused him if she'd been lying under other circumstances. But the forced smile reminiscent of the night he'd met her marred her lovely features again. If she wasn't having a good time or if he was a terrible dancer, she should tell him.

His feet stilled. "Tell me." The words came out in a barked order. Regret immediately rose in his throat as all remnants of her smile evaporated.

"It's just..." Her eyes swung around the room and Jack prepared to kill the person who'd insulted her. Her hand tugged on his lapel, and he leaned in as she hissed in his ear. "My feet are killing me."

A balloon of elation bubbled up and burst from his lips.

Her eyes narrowed, and she tapped on his chest. "Don't laugh at me. I hate heels. You try spending the day in these torture devices."

"Not my style." He moved to leave the dance floor.

If it was possible to dig her heels into the hardwood of the dance floor, Solana achieved it, refusing to move. "No." She dropped his hand. "I want to dance."

Frustration tightened every tendon in his body. A deep desire to please her warred with the need to fix the problem. If the shoes caused her pain, they had to go. He calculated how long it would take his assistant to purchase a new pair and deliver them to the venue. But if she wouldn't sit...

"Stubborn woman." He stalked back onto the dance floor, secured his arm on her waist and hoisted Solana a few inches into the air. "You want to dance, lets dance."

Feet dangling, she threw her head back with a roar of laughter, the sight and sound draining the tension in his body away. He loved the feel of her chest rumbling against his; the vibrations infecting him. His actions made her happy. The sensation seeped into the holes in his heart, filling the gaps with a gooey substance.

If the other guests stared, he didn't notice. The burnt orange dots in her hazel eyes fascinating him.

She kicked off the offending shoes and met his gaze. "Jack Blackhorne, you never cease to amaze me."

"Good." He hoped he could keep it that way. Keep Solana happy, keep her by his side.

The music morphed into an upbeat tempo and Jack settled Solana back to the ground. "Now can we sit, your majesty?"

"I deem it so." She tucked her toes into the offending shoes, and he resisted tossing her over his shoulder and carrying her back to the table. Or better yet, out of this place. Draven and his bride wouldn't miss him if he wasn't there for the cutting of the wedding cake. His best man duties were over.

A tug on his elbow distracted him. "Hello stranger."

"Michelle." Her flawless face stepped in front of him, halting his escape. Solana bumped into his back and he pulled her closer to lean on him. "Solana, this is the owner of the boutique where we got your dress."

Michelle extended her hand, and Solana gingerly took it. "Nice to meet you, Solana. You chose a beautiful outfit."

A tiny smile graced Solana's face. "All Jack's doing."

"Don't go giving him too much credit." Michelle brushed a non-existent crumb off his jacket. Once her touch had the power to excite him, a teaser to them finding a hotel room and feeding each other's need for pleasure and distraction. Now the feeling was nothing but a memory. "It'll feed his already enormous ego."

Solana inched away from him, drawing his attention to her. The lightness from the dance floor was no longer evident in her face. "You know Jack well."

Michelle's gaze turned to Solana. "Yes. We go way back."

"My father and hers went to school together." Jack reached for Solana's fingers to bring her back to him, not liking the distance between them. She avoided his request and clasped them behind her back. The rebuttal of his gesture stung like the first time his uncle informed him he had to be a man and go to boarding school.

"We got stuck together at a lot of family functions like this." Michelle twirled her finger in the air. "He was my default date until this man came along." She stretched a hand to the man joining them. "Solana, this is my husband, Matthew. Perfect timing. You can entertain Jack while I steal Solana away and tell her embarrassing stories about our mutual friend."

"Is my wild wife stirring up trouble again?" Matthew kissed his wife on the cheek.

"I may have changed my name to Patterson, but I'll always be a Wilde." Michelle passed her champagne glass to her husband. "Now, Solana, let's talk."

Interception was on Jack's mind until he saw Solana accepting Michelle's invitation. A chill from the too high air conditioning in the venue crept under his collar. To stop himself from demanding she stay with him, he stuffed his useless fingers into his pockets.

Instead, he resigned himself to a dull conversation with Matthew.

"Haven't seen you on the links lately." As usual, Matthew didn't disappoint. Jack listened as the man pontificated on a new putter he'd recently discovered that was sure to shave strokes off his golf game. After a polite eon, he turned to sneak a glance at the women to gauge Solana's mood.

Except he only found one woman. Michelle stood, mouth agape. "She just... ran away."

Hey D L here. You knew it was all going far too well, right?

Apologize for the shorter chapter. Can I blame summer and the amazing weather we've been having? How's your summer going?