Inside the gates, it seems there are no boundaries. Dresses barely cover the essentials, and I’m pretty sure I’ve already seen flashes of two women’s lady bits before we’re even out of the car.
Luckily for me, my man doesn’t want me putting on the same show, so he lifts me down from the back of the SUV.
He nods to the driver. “I’ll call you in a few hours.”
“Yes, sir.”
When our ride is gone, we walk up to the front door of a sprawling house with a similar Spanish style as Cav’s, but where his is simple and understated, this house is over the top in every way, starting with the fountain in the front courtyard where two women are calf-deep and splashing water at each other. Two men, most likely their dates, stand back and enjoy the show. One of the women is wearing a solid white dress that the water has turned sheer. The bulge below the belt of one onlooker also can’t be missed.
What kind of party is Cav taking me to?
One of the men lifts his chin to Cav, and he returns the gesture. The man’s gaze lands on me and rakes down my dress so boldly, I imagine I can feel the trail. Cav’s arm is already around me, but he splays his hand out on the front of my hip, his fingers edging toward my center, and squeezes me against his side.
It’s a move of possession.
The other man’s gaze falls away, returning to the show in the fountain. It’s not until we’re at the massive white arched front door that I recognize the man from the movie Cav and I watched the other night.
“Was that—” I start to ask, not remembering the guy’s name.
“Yes. And he’s got a thing for brunettes who aren’t his, so watch yourself. If we get separated, find me or Windsor. Some of these guys are too helpful for the wrong reasons. Throw on a layer of entitlement and a coating of being really fucking impressed with themselves, you’re more than likely to kick someone in the balls if they try to pick you up.”
Instantly, I’m on guard. “Why would we get separated?”
Cav looks at me, not so far down as usual due to the borrowed heels I’m wearing, and clearly reads the uneasiness on my face. “I’m not planning on it, but I’m just saying, if we do . . . I want you to be prepared. There’s no one here you can’t put in their place with a few well-chosen words.”
And with that little pep talk, Cav shoves open the wood-and-glass monstrosity that Windsor calls a door, and we step inside my first Hollywood party.
It’s an odd sensation, seeing people and recognizing them, but never having met them before. Still, when nearly everyone in the room has been on TV, that’s what you get. People are dressed in various levels of sophistication. Some eschewed the fancy vibe of the party altogether and wore jeans—or at least parts and pieces of them.
I’m scanning the room—taking in the former child star, the Oscar winner, the chart-topping pop diva, several TV personalities, and other generally famous people—when I realize something shocking.
They’re all staring at us.
After a few beats, the novelty must wear off because their focus turns back to their conversational partners and drinks.
I look to Cav only to find a hard and forbidding expression on his face. A don’t fuck with me, I’m in the mood to hand you your ass expression.
“Everything okay?” I whisper.
“We’re good.” He doesn’t elaborate on why it was necessary to scare off everyone who dared look in our direction.
“You sure?”
I’m about to ask whether he’s sure this party is a good idea when Windsor comes striding toward us on heels even taller than the ones she lent me. Given that she’s at least five six without them, the heels put her close to six feet. She looks like a blond Amazonian goddess.
“You made it! Oh my God, that dress looks so much better on you than it did on my sister. I hope you don’t mind that it wasn’t one of mine, because I thought this one was the absolute perfect thing.” Her gaze cuts to Cav. “Looking handsome yourself, but not nearly as foxy as your lady.”
Cav’s arm, still curled around me, squeezes instinctively. “That’s as true a statement as I’ve ever heard.”
Finding my manners, I say, “Thank you so much for the dress and the shoes.”
Windsor tilts her head to one side and reminds me so much of my best friend, I feel the need to call Banner right that moment. I miss her.
“I bet he threw a fit when he first saw you in it and then decided to play barbarian all night, just short of stamping his name on your forehead.”
I can’t help but laugh because she hit that one right on the head.
“Something like that.”
Windsor winks at me before glancing at Cav. “Exactly like that, I bet.”
“That’s enough out of you. We’re here, she’s not tossed over my shoulder, so count yourself lucky.”
With a small, feminine shrug, Windsor laughs off his remark and gives us a rundown of the party. “I think everyone I invited decided to tell a friend, so things have gotten a little more out of hand than I’d planned, but I’m not all that surprised. You know how these things go.”
She’s clearly addressing that part to Cav, because I have zero idea how these things go.
“Food is set up in the dining room. There’s the usual smattering of hors d’oeuvres, so help yourselves.” She turns to me. “If you eat, you’ll probably be the only female seen putting anything besides alcohol or a dick in her mouth, but it’d be a nice change of pace.”