Page 75 of Playboy Billionaire's Fake Marriage

“You simply reminded him of a time when he felt most alive. You made him blush with pride. It’s something we’ve not seen him do in years.”

Okay, I preen a little bit.

Just then Ryan’s mom emerges from the marquee and approaches us, her face a picture of pride and excitement. “Stella, you are a vision!” She pulls me into a firm embrace, one I’m coming to love so much.

“So are you Diana, your dress is lovely,” I return her effusive greeting. She’s wearing a one-shouldered, rust satin dress with a sweetheart neckline.

“Thank you, darling,” she beams.

“Mom, I see you’ve been busy,” Ryan observes.

“Well, since you decided to arrive late, and your father is holed up in the library, I’ve had to be the entertainment. But now that you’re here, you both can take over,” she says with a playful nudge at Ryan.

She bends forward and kisses my cheek. Which seems odd since we’ve just been hugging. I realize why when she whispers, “Powerful earrings Stella. Great choice,” she straightens and shoots me a conspiratorial wink before disappearing into the crowd.

Again, I wonder what is it about these earrings considering everyone else is draped in diamonds too.

After Diana leaves to mingle, I scan the crowd as bright smiles and soft murmurs of ‘congratulations’ pass by.

“Who are you looking for?” Ryan asks.

“I don’t see any of the Reubens yet.”

“Good eye,” he drawls, nodding toward the marquee. “They’ll be right there, trying to look busy but really just setting up a lair for you to walk into.”

I smile, feeling emboldened by my success so far. “Shall we get it over with then? I hope they’re worth the hype.”

“The first thing they’ll do is pull you away from me. Then they’ll try to wring any juicy out of you which will end up getting fed into the elite gossip circles.”

“Okay. I think you’ve armed me well enough,” I say, fingering the earrings again.

His smile widens as he leads me toward the tent. The reassuring pressure of his hand on the small of my back both grounds me and sends tingles through me.

“They speak a language only Fairchilds understand,” Ryan replies.

My curiosity spikes “What do they signify? Everyone else seems to know what they mean except me!”

He shrugs. “Let’s just say, it’s a two-hundred-year-old expression for ‘don’t fuck with me’.”

Oh wow. Alright then. Now, I want to hear the whole thing. He sees the wheels turning in my head and smirks, “You’ll get the long version later. Come on,” he motions to the white marquee.

I hesitate just as we’re about to go in. “What if I say the wrong thing in there?”

“You’re my wife, Stella; you’ll do fine.” My heart races because, God help me, I really, really like the sound of that. Ryan continues, “Just remember, you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, and I won’t be far away, okay?”

As soon as we enter, I spot Leanne. She’s tall and regal in a long peach gown. Her dark hair in an elaborate updo. She’s surrounded by a group of her friends, much like ladies-in-waiting. Reuben, Don, and a few others are deep in conversation. The older man seems to be muttering angrily, a deep scowl etched onto his lined face while Don responds with an insolent smile.

Don notices us first and breaks away from the group to greet us. He might be a cunning snake, but I can’t fault his blond good looks and blue eyes, a Fairchild trademark.

“Look who it is, Stella! And the boss.”

Ryan accepts his hug, patting him on the back a few times, “Don, my man. Looking great as always.”

Don’s smile is more a baring of teeth than a warm gesture. “Well, what can I say? Good genes, right? Stella would agree, wouldn’t you?”

“Sure,” I manage, though my own smile feels strained. Something about the guy just rubs me the wrong way. And his rudeness from our first meeting still grates on me.

Don addresses Ryan, “Well, I suppose congratulations are in order. It felt like a crazy game of musical chairs for a while there, but who knew you had an ace up your sleeve? Speaking of,” he turns to me, his eyes like icy flints.

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