Page 257 of The Billionaires

Oh, crap.

He turns to Sydney. “Jane and I have been secretly dating for the last six months, and as of yesterday, we’re engaged.”

Double crap.

Until this moment, Sydney hadn’t truly looked at me, but now that she’s turned those intense amber eyes on me, I’d rather go back to the good old days when she didn’t think me worthy of her notice.

She turns to Adrian, and her fake laugh reminds me of the time Mom tried practicing laughter yoga—which sounded a lot like Jack Nicholson’s portrayal of the Joker. “I hope our daughter inherits your wonderful sense of humor.”

Adrian sighs. “Why would I be joking about that?”

Feeling a little petty, I flash Sydney the ring on my finger.

Her faux joviality is gone without a trace. “You’re getting married,” she says, enunciating every word.

Adrian crosses his arms over his chest. “Marriage is a common step after getting engaged.”

Her eyes narrow. “So now you are able to get married?”

Does she want him to tell her outright that he’s fine with getting married, just not to her?

Frowning, Adrian turns my way. “Sydney and I are going to talk in private for a moment.”

I nod because what else can I do? Even if what Adrian and I have were real, Sydney would still be in his life forever, or at least until their daughter moves out. He needs to stay on talking terms with this woman, and for the next three years, so should I.

Just as they walk away, an unfamiliar middle-aged man approaches me, a champagne flute in his hand.

“Hello.” He raises the flute. “I’m Tristan Astor.” With that, he extends his hand to me.

I shake the proffered hand. “I’m Jane Miller. I’m sorry… The way you said your name made it sound like I should know it, but I don’t.”

“Oh.” His cheeks flush. “I’m Sydney’s father.”

Ah. Now that he says it, I can see some resemblance—his hair is the same shade of black, and his eyes are amber. So Sydney’s last name is Astor. That could be handy in case I feel like cyberstalking her.

“I saw you talking with her a moment ago,” he continues. “So I assumed you were part of the same circle.”

He thinks I’m part of the ton? I’ll take that as a compliment.

“I’m not part of their circle,” I say. “However, since you’re Piper’s grandfather, our paths might cross again, so we might as well get to know each other.”

He looks confused. “How are you connected to Piper?”

Before I can answer, a voice even haughtier than Sydney’s says, “Tristan, dear, is that a contender to be wife number four? Or is it five?”

I turn to check out the speaker, a middle-aged lady who looks like she has a team of plastic surgeons on speed dial. She could also easily play an evil dowager baroness in a show about Victorian England.

“Juliet,” Tristan says through his teeth. “Tired of your boy toy already?”

Juliet glances at a guy about Adrian’s age, then turns back to Tristan. “I’m not actually here to quarrel.” She points at Adrian and Sydney in the distance. “Do you think they’re reconciling?”

Tristan shrugs and gestures at me. “Maybe Jane has a clue?”

Juliet peers at me and forces one of her perfectly styled eyebrows into a simulacrum of a question mark. “You know my daughter?”

Ah. So this is Sydney’s mom, and it seems like she and Tristan aren’t together. Probably because her name isn’t Isolde, and his name isn’t Romeo.

“I just met Sydney a second ago,” I say, and don’t add that it wasn’t a pleasure in the slightest. “I came with Adrian.”

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