I'm seated in the lobby of the hotel, flipping through one of their coffee-table books when I hear his name.

"How did I miss Elliot Kingsley at the gala?" asks a voice, seated at the cluster of seats next to where I'm seated.

Slowly, without turning my head, I cut my eyes over to look at a group of four girls seated there, one of them looking almost indignant.

"How am I supposed to know?" asks her friend, "Because he was so clearly there in a dark brown suit that brings out his eyes."

"Apparently, he has a girlfriend now," says one of the girls, whose face I can't see because she's seated with her back to me.

"He does?!"

"Yeah," says the same voice as before, "Didn't you see her? She was at the gala, too. The brunette. She's Andrusian, apparently."

"Did they meet at the conference?"

"Apparently, she's his sister's friend."

I raise the left side of the book until it's covering my face so that they don't even notice that I'm trying my hardest not to burst out laughing.

How does word get around so fast? Thank God we've already told our parents because the grapevine isn't the way you want to hear about your child's relationship.

My parents have taken an immediate liking to Elliot, his charming, polite ways and his doctorship. They are never ones to show much emotion, but I did think that the whole meeting transpired well enough. Elliot's Mom, on the other hand, related her elation to me over the phone and kept telling me how excited she was for the both of us.

"Which brunette?" asks the girl who first spoke.

"She was wearing a satin, beige dress," says the other and I stifle a chortle because I have never been able to even recall what my sister wore to work in the morning before she comes home in the evening.

"Oh, with the gold heels?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

I bring the book closer to my face so that they don't actually see my face and begin to wonder just how popular Elliot is in Whitfield Hills for so many people to just know him.

I'm too lost in my own thoughts to hear the rest of the conversation happening next to me, but a name they say breaks through to me.

"Hey, Elliot."

There's a moment of silence.

Then, a bemused, "Hi, everyone."

I hear his footsteps and I know he's walking over to me and my cover just might be blown.

"I didn't know water-based architecture was something you were so interested in."

A kiss is pressed against the top of my head and I take it as my cue to lower the book that's been serving as my personal barricade.

Elliot descends on to the coffee table in front of with a smile, completely unaware that the conversation beside us has stopped completely.

I scrunch my nose and shake my head at him.

Elliot takes my hand and I squeeze his fingers three times, making him grin. He sighs and it's almost as if he's saying something. "Breakfast, my love?"

"God, I'm starving," I tell him, standing, "No one does breakfast buffets like Andrusian hotels."

Arm around my waist, Elliot laughs. "So many things seem to be better just because they've originated in Andrusia," he tells me as we turn to walk in the direction of the breakfast room.

My eyes fall on the group of girls seated across from us, who are looking up at us. I give them a smile and all of them smile back, albeit looking a bit dazed.

Before we step into the hallway that leads to the buffet, Elliot pauses. "Hold on. I'm going to go tell Aiden's Dad that his wife is in Aiden's room, fawning over her grandchildren," he says, nodding to Aiden's Dad, who is seated on the lawn, speaking to a few people.

I turn my attention to the green, seeing golf carts weaving in and out in the distance.

"Well, I don't know how I missed you."

A shadow appears near me, stopping right beside me, forcing me to look at them.

A mousy-brown haired man with light blue, almost transparent eyes under thick, dark eyebrows and a perfectly kept beard is smiling at me.

I would have thought he's good-looking if it weren't for the unnerving fact that he is making me feel like I want to peel my skin off just because he's laid his eyes on it.

"Do you stay here?" he asks, without even waiting for me to say anything.

I've begun to shake my head before I even know why. "No," I tell him, with a small smile, offering no other explanation, and turning my attention back to the green.

"What a shame," he goes one, absolutely undeterred, "You and I could have really had some fun. I mean, you could still join me."

My mind is blaring 'Elliot', like a foghorn, trying to summon him.

My acute inability to handle myself in these situations comes alive and I make the noise of a strangled laugh. "No," I say, again, taking a surreptitious step away from him.

The man steps closer to me again and I'm hit by the smell of his definitely expensive, but still manages to smell generic cologne. I cut my eyes to him and notice that he's wearing a Louis Vuitton belt, complete with the ostentatious logo on the buckle, and cringe a little.

"We could go down to the beach," he tries again, "You know, Andrusia has some of the most beautiful beaches in the world."

I want to laugh.

He's telling me this like I haven't grown up with them; like I haven't earned so much money creating content just about the beautiful beaches and tropical weather of Capell.

I could tell him that, but it would serve absolutely no purpose.

"No," I say, yet again, "Thank you."

Again, I slide away from him, my ballet flats making no sound against the tile.

Elliot.

"I bet I could find something that you'd definitely want to do with me," Daddy's Money tells me, overtly confidently.

I have to wipe a hand across my mouth to keep myself from smiling because I cannot think of a single thing in the world that I would rather do with this slimy man than Elliot. "You'd lose," I say, before I can even consider it.

This is unfortunate, because it makes him think that I would like to wager with him.

"Oh," he chuckles, way too close to my ear for comfort – I slide away again – "You want a bet? I bet that I could show you –"

"Get the hell away from her."

A warm hand slips around my waist, pulling me in.

Elliot materializes between me and the man, who I now realize is wearing Gucci slides and it makes me roll my eyes so hard. I feel my shoulders relax against him.

Elliot, however, is not relaxed. He's visibly fuming.

"Kingsley," says the man, in an easy, almost patronizing tone, "What an unpleasant surprise."

"Brad, do not cause a scene." Elliot's tone is low and rumbling; a warning.

Brad only chuckles. "Listen, man. I was only trying to talk to a pretty girl before you interrupted, okay? So, if you leave, there won't be a scene."

Elliot's arm drops from around my waist and he turns to face Brad fully. Maybe, I'm biased, but Elliot is so easily dominating and confident that next to him, Brad seems like a scared school-boy.

"I will tell this to you once and if I have to tell it to you again, it won't be kindly." Elliot is deadly serious. His tone strict and will take absolutely no nonsense. "Do not come near her again. You will have to answer to me."

With an insistent look at Brad, Elliot turns, slips his arm around my waist and leads me away from Brad, and in the direction of breakfast.

"Are you alright?" he asks, arm crushing me to him, lips pressed against my temple. His tone is different with me, but there is still a crease between his eyebrows.

"I'm fine. Who was that?"

"Brad Windom. Absolute scum of the earth. You can go ahead and ask the girls about him. Scarlett even broke his nose once."

I throw my head back and laugh as we walk into the buffet area. "Good for Sky."

Elliot gives the man at the entrance our room numbers and we walk out to the patio to find seating.

"You went a little ballistic," I tell him, as we pick a spot in the shade.

Elliot turns his gaze to me and I don't know how to explain what his eyes do in any word other than soften – he looks at me and his gaze softens.

"I don't think I take kindly to people who make you uncomfortable. Your shoulders were stiff, you were cracking your fingers over and over again, you kept trying to slide away from him." He takes my hand and we make our way to the buffet. Despite his gentle touch, Elliot is simmering with quiet rage. "And Brad Windom gets absolutely no sympathy from me. He's made passes at all of you now. You, Rosalie, Scarlett, Isa, Jenna, Juliette. No matter how many times he's been told to stop. If he tries anything – anything, Aura – you tell me. If he so much as looks at you wrong, I will lobotomize him. If he lays a finger on you, he will not live to see another day."

That's what happens when you mess with Eli's girl.

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Much love!