She drank in the sight until a different sense prickled along her skin. Tingling straight to her toes, Ella slid her glance upward to find Hawk admiring—not the surrounding area as she was—but her. Just her.
A muscle jumped in his jaw. He lowered his arm, allowing his fingers to graze down her skin until they found hers. She was putty under that look, under his touch. How had she ever thought of not coming tonight?
Hawk opened his mouth when a short woman with red hair and a flattering black dress approached. Her lips thinned, and she cast Ella an apologetic glance before interrupting.
“Hey, boss,” she said. “I’m sorry, but I wanted to run something past you before I headed home for the night.”
Hawk hesitated. He squeezed Ella’s fingers. “Save me that dance?”
Disbelief continued to razz her. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. But not only had he remembered her, he’d completely devoted his attention to her the instant they’d met in the hall. Which meant their handful of moments in that elevator had had the same effect on him as it’d had on her.
Somehow her lips managed to respond. “You bet.”
Ella backed out of the line of dancers, opting to wait beside the refreshment table. Her living daydream didn’t last. In an instant, someone jerked her by the elbow.
“What do you think you’re doing here?” Pris snarled. She dazzled in a red, floor-length gown drenched with sequins. Her dark hair was sassy in a French twist, up away from her throat and leaving all the attention to her bare shoulders and pretty but petulant face.
Ella attempted to yank free. She didn’t want anyone to see her basically being assaulted by her stepsister, least of all Hawk.
“I was invited,” Ella said. “Just like you were.”
Pris’s grip on her bicep tightened, reminding Ella far too much of the way their mother used to do the same thing.
Pris pushed Ella against the end of the refreshment table. Ella nearly tripped on her dress’s train. Several dishes rattled at the impact.
“You’re kidding, right? Mom booked Highland Heights thinking you’d be there. I’d hate to think what she does to you when she finds out you’ve decided to come to a ball instead of doing your job.”
Ella’s heart beat like a rabbit’s under the heat of the confrontation. Whether she went to Stina’s assignment or not was none of Pris’s business.
With fleeting hope, she glanced around, hoping Charlotte might be nearby. Maybe she could signal her for a distraction. For help.
No Charlotte. Looked like she was on her own.
“Stina said midnight,” Ella said. “I don’t have to leave yet.”
Pris’s lip curled. “You think you can just show up here in a handmade dress and not have everyone see right through you?”
Pris’s insults were usually a well-aimed arrow, but this seemed like a pathetic attack. Anyone who saw the gown Ella wore would never have suspected it was homemade. It was clearly a lame attempt at an insult and a false assumption to boot. What did Pris care if she was here or not?
“Why?”
Pris’s brows proved they weren’t stenciled on. “Why what?”
Ella straightened her shoulders. She wasn’t sure where this audacity came from, but she was here, waiting for a dance with a handsome man who’d seemed star-struck by the very sight of her. She didn’t need to deal with Pris’s petty vindictiveness right now.
“Why do you want me out of here so badly? Why do you want to keep me out of your family gatherings? Our family gatherings?”
Pris lifted her chin. “I can’t believe you still don’t get it.”
“You can’t be talking about Derek. That happened two years ago, Pris. We broke it off.”
“Yeah, after you stole him from me.”
“He made his choice.”
Pris rolled her eyes before her attention diverted to a good-looking man Ella recognized. Derek Cummins was in a tux, peering around the ballroom a few feet away.
Ella thought back to the email invitation. It had said to bring a single guest if desired. She should have known who Pris would invite. She was only surprised Derek had agreed.
Everything suddenly made sense. No wonder Pris was guarding the ball like a wounded killdeer. She didn’t want Derek to see Ella there.
The stepsisters clapped eyes on one another. Pris gritted out the words that screamed from her gaze. “I hate you. I’ve hated you since you stole him from me, and I’m not about to give you another shot.”
In their many—many—misunderstandings, Pris had never said the actual words. While Ella had known her stepsister had disliked her from the start, hate was an open slit straight into her chest.
Ella tried to force away the sting. She could tell Pris that she had no more interest in Derek, which was entirely true. But it hadn’t convinced her in the past. Why would it now?
Her attention veered to Hawk, who was nodding to the redhead before the two parted ways. He shot Ella a smile that had all the force of a lightning bolt. It kinked her insides.
She couldn’t leave, not now. Not when she hadn’t gotten her dance with him. Even if she ended up parting at midnight to work for Stina, she could enjoy a few dances, at least.
“Hate me all you want, but I’ve been invited tonight.” She attempted to worm her way past Pris, to join Hawk’s side before he approached and saw the unfortunate confrontation, but Pris pinched her arm again.
Words seemed to be failing Pris. In a moment of fury, she reached behind Ella, retrieved a glass on the table, and pitched its cranberry-colored contents at Ella’s face.
The iced liquid made a frigid splash against her. Ella held her arms aloft, mortified at the red juice dripping from her hair, her lashes, her nose and lips and down her neck. An ice cube slid down the front of her dress.
All Ella could think of was
