Page 45 of Love, Academically
Lila’s heart went out to Rhys because, bless him – all he was doing was chasing his dream, which his family should have encouraged. Instead, they put him down, made him feel small and unworthy. She’d been there. She knew how it felt, and luckily had Jasmeet and Maddy to pull her out of it. Rhys had, what? Kickboxing? Dan?
Perhaps not all of his family felt that way, though. It seemed his father was the biggest culprit. But still, who would want to work in boring corporate construction anyway?
“You don’t mind?” Rhys asked, glancing at her before assessing the menu again.
“Mind? Why would I mind?” she asked. “Hang on,whatwould I mind?”
Rhys squirmed in his seat.
“Coming with me. Being my fake girlfriend. After everything I’ve just said? It won’t be easy.” He offered her a wan smile. “By that, I mean,Iprobably won’t be easy.”
Lila blinked at him, because that was excellent self-awareness from Rhys Aubrey.
“I’ll help. We’ll get through it together.” Her voice was quiet, because it seemed that was exactly what Rhys needed.
Rhys narrowed his eyes at her, searching her face for any sign of her making fun of him. Poor, hurt, untrusting man.
“Anyway, shall we order?” Lila asked, as the waitress headed in their direction.
It didn’t take long for their food to arrive, but Lila’s stomach was grumbling by the time she shovelled the first forkful of her lasagne into her mouth.
“What time will we be eating? If it’s late, I’ll have to have a snack beforehand. Otherwise, I’ll expire and you’ll have to catch me as I faint,” she said, putting the back of her hand to her forehead and fanning her face with the other.
Rhys snorted a laugh.
“I don’t know, eight-ish? There’ll be canapes I would imagine,” he said, picking at his hunter’s chicken.
Shit. In all of the Rhys-o-Drama, she’d forgotten.
“Um, Rhys?” Lila laid her knife and fork down carefully on the edge of her plate.
“Mmm?” he said, not looking at up her.
“Rhys, this is important.”
He must have noticed the urgency in her voice because he stopped chewing, swallowed heavily and looked at her intently.
“What is the dress code?” she whispered. The super rich?Canapes? Boring business-y type people? It could only be one thing.
Please be smart casual. Please be smart casual.
“Oh,” Rhys said, screwing his face up. “Black tie.”
Black tie. Oh, good lord.
“And what will you be wearing?” she asked, keeping her voice calm and low.
“Um, a tux? That’s what black tie is.”
Lila took three deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth, but it was no use.
“Oh my God, Rhys,” she said, burying her face in her hands. What, in the name of all that was holy, was she going to wear?
“What’s the matter?” he asked, calmly cutting up his godforsaken chicken.
“What’s the matter?” she squeaked.
How could he be so stupid? Rhys Aubrey-Dallimore would be wearing a tuxedo and there was nothing more attractive than a man in a well-fitting tuxedo. It probably was designed especially for him, clinging to his pert little arse like a wasp on picnic food.
