Page 83 of Torrid Passion
“This isn’t a joke?” Bliss is eying me up and down.
“No, Bliss, it isn’t,” Mom responds before I do. “He’s one of the offspring that popped out of me.”
Dad chuckles.
“Wow.” Finally, Bliss shakes my hand. “I might be the luckiest girl in LA right now,” she says. “Enchantée, mon nom est Joie.”
I glance at my mom with an unmistakableseriouslylook on my face. She grimaces and offers an apologeticI’m sorry.
“Pardon me, I didn’t catch that,” I say removing my hands from hers.
“Oh, it means, pleased to meet you, my name is Bliss. It’s French. I don’t have to translate my first name, but I like doing it.”
“I see,” I nod. “You speak it fluently?”
“I know seven words,” Bliss beams. “It’s to help me come across as worldly. I’m learning with a cool video series on YouTube––One French Word A Day! I also knowmerci—”
“Got it.”
This is going to be the longest night of my life.
Even Mom, the consummate professional, cracks a small smile.
Dad has his back to us now. From the way his body is shaking, I’m pretty sure he’s having a good laugh at my expense.
“Let’s go!” Mom says.
We all cram into the limo and we’re off.
“I can’t believe your son is so handsome,” Bliss marvels. “And he’smydate.”
“It’s not a date,” I correct.
“Of course it is,” Bliss cheers, jumping in her seat.
“No, it isn’t,” I toss back.
“Yes, it is.” Bliss is worse than a child. “You and I,” she says, pointing between us—an arm full of silver bangles make all kinds of annoying racket— “are going to be one of the most talked about couples of the evening.”
“Wearen’ta couple,” I insist.
I’m trying really hard here to remain polite.
“Bliss, Lochlan is standing in for Philip Barnaby because it’s a really bad idea to be seen with him,” Mom comes to my rescue.
“But Jordana, Lochlan and I look sooooo good together.”Maybe the puffy fabric around her ears is affecting her hearing.“Who knows, sparks might fly!”There’s a better chance of pigs flying.“I’m sure by the end of the evening, we’ll be arealcouple.”Keep dreaming, buttercup.
“Bliss, focus!” Mom snaps. “Philip Barnaby is a liability right now. My son isn’t. Lochlan isn’t your date. This is smoke and mirrors. For appearances only. Lochlan’s job is to walk you down the red carpet. End of story,” Mom waves her hand in a circular motion.Oh, she’s mad.
“But––”
I already have a fucking headache.
“We need to salvage your image, Bliss,” Mom reminds her. “This isn’t about duping people.”
“Oh, okay.”
Bliss pouts like a pissed off five-year-old.
