Page 42 of One Wealthy Wedding

“I’m very athletic, it’s true. Ah, dessert.” He reaches around to point at the left-hand column of the menu. “I recommend the tarte tatin. They source fantastic apples. And the pastry chef is French.”

I make a considering sound, but all thought has fled. All I can think about is the heat of Theo’s body and the weight of his arm around my shoulders, the feeling that I’m his. His? No way. I stiffen. I don’t want to belong to anyone. I spent my entire life belonging to my family, like a doll on a shelf. No more.

He finally pulls away to order our food and a tarte tatin to share, and I’m grateful for him taking charge, because the eyes of so many people on me are making it hard to breathe.

“Angle your hand a little more so they can see the ring,” he says.

I comply, and I swear I hear a woman suck in a breath. “You’re way too good at this.” I look up to see his eyes hard and his handsome face blank.

“My main skill, really. It’s quite useful for courting investors. Unless they try to sleep with me.” He shrugs, like he doesn’t care, but cold seeps through me.

“Women make passes at you on business trips?”

“Of course they do.” He stirs more sugar into his coffee. “I’m hot, and I can’t really say no, right? Not if we want to grow our business. Oh, come on. It’s not like that. We go out drinking, and one thing leads to another. Can you blame them?”

No, not really, I guess. If I were rich and confident, I’d make a pass at Theo too. But feeling like you have to? Fuck that. Anger burns holes in my stomach. Fuck these investors and the way they’ve used him and discarded him.

“Do you like the ring?” he asks abruptly.

“As much as any ring. It’s archaic, don’t you think? A sign of ownership.”

“I suppose.” He sips his coffee. “You hate it.” He smiles.

“Darling, you’re not supposed to smile when you do something I hate.”

His smile grows.

“I totally hate it,” I say.

He laughs, setting his coffee down as his shoulders shake. Why does he have to be so stupidly, annoyingly attractive when he laughs? I narrow my eyes on him. Damn you, Theo and your perfect shiny teeth and your just-fucked, tousled hair, and the way your Adam’s apple bobs in your throat.

“Do you know what I had to go through to get that ring on such short notice?”

“I imagine you walked up to the jewelers at Cartier and said ‘the biggest one, please. No, bigger. Do you have something really ostentatious?’”

He shakes his head. “I had to call the owner of Cartier to open the store for me. They were closed for renovations.”

“It’s good to be you,” I say blandly. “Even if this ring is fucking ugly and I want to throw it at your head most of the time.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you say the nicest things.” He grins at me, totally unrepentant, and my silly, traitorous heart does a little flip-flop in my chest.

“Do you think our charade is working?” I whisper once we’ve finished our entirely mediocre plates of eggs and dessert is in front of us.

Theo shrugs. “The real test will be next weekend. That charity gala. Sitting at a brunch table is one thing, but talking to investors and their partners will be tough. We should prep.” He swipes some of the caramel off the top of the tart and into his mouth. His lips close around his finger, and my stomach does a funny little pirouette. His lips are a little too full, especially his bottom lip, soft in an otherwise harshly male face.

“Talk about the investors, you mean? Learn their backgrounds?”

“And learn about each other.”

The pirouette turns into a full-blown knot in my gut. “I think we know each other well enough,” I say airily. “We can make up anything we don’t know. We’ll be fine. You’re a good actor, clearly, and I’ll just go along with it. I can make small talk.”

“Catherine.” He levels a look at me with those green eyes. “I’m a different person now than I was at twenty. I’m not going to mess this up. Think about if people found out this was a marriage of convenience.” He takes a neat scoop of the tart onto his spoon. “I’d be ruined in the eyes of my investors. More than I usually am. A libertine is borderline, but a liar? Unacceptable. And you might find your inheritance being challenged.”

The thought sends chills through me. Theo is right. I know he’s right, and yet the thought of sharing with him, letting him in again…I stand in a rush.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” I mutter before striding away from the table and keeping my head down as I pass clusters of people I probably know.

In the bathroom, I lean against the counter and press cold water to the skin of my chest where it’s red and blotchy from nerves. Sharing with Theo. I can’t. My hands clench around the edge of the counter. My past is shameful. I’ve had everything and made nothing of myself. I could have been like Blair, like Theo. I could have left sooner. I could have been braver. But I liked being rich and pampered, and I was too damn comfortable to leave the nest.

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