Page 33 of Just a Friend for the Lion
Time to hunt.
Chapter 12
MJ
“Iswear on this Vera Bradley wristlet, if you two let me leave here without making me promise to ignore that Lion tonight, I’m setting your maternity pillow on fire and I’m banning your husband from my Nutella stash!”
“Sweetie,” Carina says, waddling beside me in a goddess-level wrap dress that shows off her third-trimester belly bump and glows with built-in glamor.
“You think I waddled all the way up this marble staircase to leave you without any real advice?Please,” Carina says, walking me out of the car and up the stairs so she can get a better peek at this mansion and almost tumbling over in the process.
“Oh my God, Carina, please don’t trip! Horace is already glaring daggers at me,” I mumble as I watchher big ass husband hand the keys to the valet and jog up after her.
“Careful,” he grumbles and takes her hand.
“I’m fine, Honey Bear, and MJ, Uncle Uzzi invited us all to stay and shmooze, so you know we’re here for you.”
“Yeah right. You’re here for the gossip, the view, and the snacks,” I mutter.
“And to cockblock anyone who’s ever broken your heart,” she agrees.
“Same,” Dina chirps, blowing a kiss at her Wolf Shifter mate who had to meet us here since he was out on a gig. Doug is a private eye with a penchant for trouble, so I don’t doubt she is using this opportunity to have a nice evening out with her guy.
Lucky beyotch.
“Except I’m also here to have a hot date with my man. Preferably one that lasts in a sweaty tangle of limbs!”
“Oh, that is enough from you two,” I moan and fake gag—only it’s not really pretend.
I roll my eyes, adjusting my dress—burgundy satin, off-the-shoulder, totally not meant to be worn by someone trying to avoid attention.
Curse Uncle Uzzi and his meddling magical wardrobe delivery.
The historic mansion is lit up like a Hallmark movie threw up on it—twinkling lights, and cascades of florals arranged in stunning displays.
Inside there are floating candles, tables with enchanted place cards that rearrange themselves for optimal matchmaking, and waitstaff serving drinks and munchies.
The Hudson sparkles behind massive glass windows.
The air is charmed to smell like cinnamon, apples, and the first kiss of autumn—whatever the hell that means.
I should feel magical.
I should feel excited.
But mostly, I feel tense.
Becausehemight be here.
And I promised myself—promised—I wouldn’t even look at Carter Leone tonight.
I’m here for me. For my happily ever after.
“Okay, MJ,” Carina says, linking her arm through mine. “Deep breath. Just remember your goals.”
“Right,” I murmur. “No Liony louses. No regrets. No letting my hormones win.”
We cross the ballroom just as Uncle Uzzifloats by in a purple velvet tux with gold constellation embroidery.
