Page 28 of Roommate Wars
“So what else do you need from me tonight?” She looked absently out the window at the passing cars as we drove through town.
“Need from you?” I was hung up on the purring. An image of slipping off Elise’s silk dress flittered through my mind before I mentally slapped myself. “Eat? Socialize?”
She looked at me, and her face turned pale. “Socialize? With wealthy snobs? I thought I’d just hang with you.”
“Not everyone there will be a snob. Some are good people. I’ll introduce you to the good ones.”
“Okay,” she said, but she was biting her lip.
The urge to hold her hand was strong. And this here was the danger in fake dating. It could feel real even if it wasn’t.
I tamped down the desire to comfort her and drank my own damn water until we pulled up to the building where the party was being held.
I helped Elise out of the car. “The old Merchants Exchange is one of the few buildings that survived the 1906 earthquake. And the ballroom we’re going to inside is named after a prolific architect who designed Hearst Castle.”
She looked up at the French Beaux-Arts architecture. “What was the architect’s name?”
“Julia Morgan, though she didn’t design this property. They named it in honor of her because she was the first licensed female architect in California.”
“That is so cool. Gotta love a ladyboss.”
We made our way to the carpeted ballroom with hundred-year-old French chandeliers, heavy drapes, and wood paneling. Off the room was a curved bar with art deco details and a massive old fireplace that was no longer in use.
I enjoyed events held in places like this, with history and the echo of the past. Made me wonder if my mother had ever visited some of them.
My dad never sold the apartment where I grew up, and I was glad of it. Most of the memories I had of my mother were in that apartment, and it was comforting to walk the same paths she did. When she died, I’d lost all sense of being grounded. It was likely why I failed at relationships. Max called me “relationship stunted,” because the only good ones I’d had were from before my mother’s death.
Speaking of… Max was standing halfway across the ballroom with Sophia, sipping red wine and chatting with one of his clients I recognized. Elise and I made our way over, and as we passed, the eyeballs of the men in the room popped out of their heads at my gorgeous date.
Get in line,I thought. Tonight, Elise was all mine. Fake dating had its perks.
Elise nervously checked her dress. She had no idea how beautiful she was.
I leaned closer. “Nothing’s out of place. You look…”
She widened her eyes, a little wary, patiently waiting for the next words to leave my mouth. “What, Jackson?” she said, frustrated when I took too long to finish my thought.
“Nice.” She was stunning, gorgeous, and sexy as hell, but I couldn’t tell her all that or she’d get the wrong idea.
She rolled her eyes. “Gee, thanks.”
Before we could reach Max and Sophia, Thalia popped up out of nowhere a few feet away, wearing a reddish floor-length gown. She was a good-looking woman, only a couple of years older than me, but I didn’t find her attractive in a romantic way. That didn’t seem to stop the determination in her eyes.
I sighed as Thalia ignored my gorgeous date and made a beeline for my side. “You made it. I’ve got someone to introduce you to.”
I slipped my arm around Elise’s waist. “Can it wait? I’d like to get my girlfriend a drink.”
Elise stiffened.
I slid my hand to the top of her ass, which had been calling to me in the close-fitting gown since she left the apartment. She was my girlfriend tonight; physical contact was to be expected.
Elise’s eyes widened and her lips compressed with a silent message I interpreted as:What the hell do you think you’re doing?
I leaned down and whispered in her ear, “It’s for show.”
She whispered back, “You’re pushing it, Jackson.”
“Drink?” I asked her, loud enough for Thalia to hear in the crowded room.
