Page 131 of Morally Black Betrothal
“I’m fine,” I said, maybe a little more sharply than I intended. And maybe I was a little too intent when I grabbed her hand.
I’d been waiting almost a month for that small privilege.
Pathetic.
I tried for a smile. “There are a lot more people here than I thought.”
Simone’s face softened. “Oh, of course. Yeah, it’s a lot.”
Fuck, she looked great. Her stylist had done excellent work with a sleeveless slate dress that slipped over her curves like a stream and a matching translucent shawl draped over her shoulders. With my name, she had the ability to borrow from the best jewelers in the city, but Simone had opted again for the simple pendant and earring set I’d given her on our first date, along with the ring on her finger. With her hair swept around one shoulder, she was the definition of simple elegance.
Da Vinci would be proud. And then he’d probably want to paint her.
I’d been trying not to stare the entire drive here.
“The staff will get our bags and put them in our room,” I told her as we walked inside.
“Our room.” She stared all around the foyer, with its winding double staircase, marble floors, and coiling woodwork, a crystal chandelier winking above us.
“It’s just for tonight.”
Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Of course. People will expect us to sleep together, obviously. I just didn’t think about it until now.”
Neither had I, actually.
Christ. Now I was imagining being alone with her behind closed doors. Taking off her dress. Lying in our bed.
Ourbed.
My tuxedo pants grew tighter. I was going to have to go for four tonight.
Goddamn it.
“There they are!”
I didn’t know who had said it, but we’d been spotted by several partygoers. I squeezed Simone’s hand and led her under the stairs to the back doors of the house, where the party was being held on the lawn that stretched all the way down to the beach. A band was set up just past the pool, along with a dance floor and a tent where people were eating.
“This isn’t an engagement party. It’s a circus,” I muttered.
Now it was Simone squeezing my hand. “Welcome to the greatest show on earth?”
I tried to smile back. “Yes, exactly. Break a leg, baby.” I waved at an eager guest, then took the opportunity to lean down and press a kiss to Simone’s cheek.
Two seconds. Just for show.
I was really starting to hate that fucking contract.
She reddened but leaned into the kiss, so I lingered, taking a few deep inhales of her lilac scent.
Somehow, I managed to stand back up. “All right. Let’s go find my horror show of a family and show you off.”
It was the definition of a rock and a hard place. I wanted her alone. Wanted to carry her up to our room like a caveman, toss her onto the bed, and do unspeakable things to that body before falling asleep with her in my arms. But since that was impossible, I had to content myself with dealing with a mob just to have a reason to hold her hand.
It proved difficult to make our way through the crowd, as we were stopped every few steps by well-wishers (i.e., people looking to kiss my ass). By the time I found my father holding court with my siblings, Liam, Liza, and a few other hangers-on at the edge of the dance floor, ninety minutes had passed. Simone looked dizzy from the effects of too many champagne toasts and introductions.
“Brendan!” my father barked when he saw me approaching.
Having traded his tracksuits for a tux that matched every other man’s at the party, something closer to vitality colored his features. But for my father, vitality wasn’t much different than the need to dominate anyone and everyone in his path.
