Page 67 of My Big, Fat, Fake Billionaire Wedding

“Daddyalways supports the Bronson Foundation.” Her gaze shifts to Ava, her eyes narrowing in recognition. “Well, if it isn’t the mysterious bride. We meet again, Mrs. King.”

Ava straightens her shoulders slightly, clearly remembering their confrontation at the last charity event. “Vanessa,” she acknowledges coolly.

“Still enjoying your time in Gideon’s world?” Vanessa rudely takes the champagne flute from Ava’s hand, pretending to examine it. “How lovely. Gideonalways did have exquisite taste.” She hands it back with a smirk. “In art, at least.”

I feel my jaw tighten. “Ava’s work was recently featured at the Wess Gallery.”

“How... quaint. Starting small is admirable, I suppose.”

“The Wess Gallery has launched some of the most influential artists of the past decade,” Ava replies evenly.

“I’m sure.” Vanessa’s smile doesn’t falter. “It must be quite an adjustment, moving from student art shows to... all this.” She gestures vaguely around the ballroom.

“Change is part of growth,” Ava says. “Though some things remain constant. Like genuine talent.”

I suppress a smile. My fake wife has claws.

“I overheard you talking about the art market earlier,” Vanessa says. “You must find these investment conversations terribly boring, Ava.”

“Actually,” I interrupt, wishing she would take the hint and leave us alone, “Ava has an excellent eye for investment opportunities. It’s one of the many things I admire about her.”

Vanessa’s eyes narrow. “Fascinating. Such a departure from your usual type.”

“Perhaps I finally recognized what I truly wanted,” I say, placing my hand protectively at the small of Ava’s back. I grab my champagne glass and take a sip, turning away.

“It’s a miracle her silicone rack doesn’t launch itself onto the appetizers,” Ava mutters for my ears alone.

I choke on my champagne, a spray escaping before I can control it. The laugh that follows breaks through my carefully maintained composure.Several heads turn our way, eyebrows raised at this breach of decorum from Manhattan’s typically controlled power broker.

“Christ, Ava,” I whisper, dabbing at my mouth with a napkin. “A little warning next time.”

“Totally worth it if for your reaction alone,” she replies, beaming. The unexpected spark in her eyes catches me off guard almost as much as her comment did.

The dinner bell chimes, saving us from further scrutiny. As we move toward our assigned table, Vanessa follows too closely.

“You know, I’m actually surprised you married at all,” she murmurs, loud enough for Ava to hear. “Especially after what happened with Celeste. That kind of betrayal leaves scars.”

I feel Ava tense beside me. Damn Vanessa and her viper’s tongue.

“Ancient history,” I reply coldly. “And irrelevant.”

To my dismay, the seating arrangement is a nightmare. Goddamn it. Vanessa somehow scored a spot at our table, three seats away. I’m going to have to have a little talk with the event coordinator later. Because someone sure as hell greased the wheels to plant her here, and knowing Vanessa, she probably fucked the spineless prick into compliance. Classic.

She catches my eye and offers that predatory smile, clearly pleased with her strategic positioning. I deliberately turn my attention to Ava instead.

Let the viper seethe. I don’t play games. I end them.

Throughout the first course, Vanessa dominates conversation, peppering her speech with references to events Ava wasn’t part of, and dropping names shecouldn’t possibly know. I deliberately avoid engaging her directly.

I watch Ava carefully. She holds her own, asking intelligent questions, refusing to be intimidated. Pride swells in my chest unexpectedly.

As the main course arrives, Vanessa gets up, those silicone tragedies of hers jiggling as she fake-reaches for the salt. Christ, she’s about as subtle as two bazookas in a ballet.

I start looking away, but then she“slips,”her wrist catching Ava’s glass and knocking it over. A bloodbath of Cabernet cascades across the pristine tablecloth and splashes onto Ava’s blue gown.

“Oh!” Vanessa’s hand flies to her mouth in mock horror. “How clumsy of me. I’m so sorry.”

Ava gasps, jumping to her feet as the stain spreads across her abdomen. Her face turns a bright crimson.

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