Page 25 of Never Fake Date the Financier
“Good,” Max says before glancing awkwardly at Sariah who then shakes her head, giving him a look that’s bringing back some memories. Tread lightly, it says.
“What?”
“It’s nothing,” Max says with a laugh. “It’s just—okay, a few of us… Well, Lillian thought Gabriella was made up. An elaborate hoax.”
I laugh, hoping it masks the panic rising in me. “Why would she think that?”
I hardly knew Lillian, Sariah’s little sister. She’d always hang around when I’d visit, but our interactions were limited, so I’m not sure how she’d come to that conclusion. Still, it’s making me a little more uncomfortable about this situation.
“It’s not like you’ve been very open with your relationship. No one’s seen a picture of her, let alone one of you two together. It’s?—”
“Well, you’ll see her soon enough.” I interrupt because the longer they speculate, the tougher this might be.
“And so will Lillian,” Sariah says. “We just ran into her. She’s on her way up to your room. She’s offered to bring Ella along with her and the rest of the bridal party for a spa day before the rehearsal dinner. Her treat! Since Ella couldn’t make the bachelorette party.”
My stomach drops. This is not… ideal. The last thing Ella needs right now is another surprise. And this is one I have no control over. She’s going to have to navigate it alone. Shit. Maybe if I rush back to the room, I can think of something.
“Great,” I say through gritted teeth. “Ella will love that. If you’ll ex?—”
My phone buzzes in my pocket, sending my stomach into freefall. I don’t have to look to know who’s texting. When I see the message on the screen, my suspicion is confirmed, and I can feel the color drain from my skin.
Ella: HELP. ME. NOW.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I say, backing away. I slide my phone back in my pocket. “Something came up.”
“Work?” I can’t help but feel the barbs coming from Sariah.
“Something like that.”
I’m halfway down the hall to our room when I hear it: an aria like none I’ve ever heard. It’s nothing less than high-pitched screeching. It’s as though someone picked the most obnoxious opera music and cranked it to one hundred.
Oh… no.
When I open the door, Ella immediately locks eyes with me. If looks could kill, I’d be dead ten times over. My entire unborn bloodline for generations would be crushed. She’s sitting on the couch amid chaos. Women in various states of undress weave around each other, oblivious to me as they try on the dresses and outfits I had my stylist pick out for Ella.
“Adrian,” a soft voice coos at me as I feel two arms wrap around me. I look down to find Lillian blinking up at me. Although I’ve hardly interacted with her, I recognize those expressive green eyes and a smattering of freckles in a line under her eyes and across the bridge of her nose.
“Lillian,” I offer in a way of greeting.
“I was hoping to see you before whisking off your wonderful woman. I hope you don’t mind,” she adds, smiling up at me.
“No.” I sigh, trying to catch Ella’s eyes again. “Not at all.”
Fuck. We’ve hardly been here twenty minutes, and things are already out of hand. We were supposed to be inseparable—a united front. We haven’t had the chance to solidify our backstory, and now Ella’s going to be interrogated by my ex’s entire bridal party. Just looking around the room, I can feel their gazes piercing me like daggers.
I recognize only a handful of the women, but it’s clear I’m the last person they want to see.
“I wanted to make Gabby feel welcome, so I played some of her favorite music. Trudy’s been so helpful with information on your…” She pauses, eyes locked on me as she drags a finger down my bicep. “Friend. Strange taste, but that’s fine.”
I grab her hand and pull it away from my arm. “Girlfriend. And it’s Gabriella. Or Ella.” My jaw tenses as I vaguely pay attention to Lillian, trying my best to find Ella in the crowd of women. But even with all the varied perfumes and scents filling the room, I can still pick out Ella’s.
“Oh? Trudy kept that one to herself. I had no idea. But it seems that either Trudy has it wrong or I misheard. Everything I know about…” She clears her throat. “Gabriella seems to be wrong. She hates the opera music I picked for her, and she hasn’t touched her eggplant burger or root vegetable medallions.”
“We ate on the flight. Now, if you’d excuse me,” I say, finally spotting Ella, her eyes boring into me from across the room.
Lillian harrumphs as I slip away and stride through the crowd. Ella’s talking with a woman I can’t place.
“Adrian,” the woman says as I approach. “So good to see you again.” She rocks onto the balls of her feet and kisses both of my cheeks.
