Page 26 of The Bad Wedding Date

“Well, and out of trouble, just as my family requested.”

“Pleased to hear it. Your parents tell me you’ve taken up a career in hospitality. How wonderful that you’ve ventured into such an avenue. I have friends in high places, particularly the restaurant sector, who are always looking for people skilled in the industry. If you ever need me to put in a good word for you...”

“Oh, don’t get ahead of yourself now, Mayor. I think you may have misunderstood. I’m sure my parents told you I worked in a care home rather than in executive hospitality. My choice of career is something they’re highly unlikely to forget or muddle up since they’re so squeamish and disgusted by it.”

His face dropped. “I must have misheard them.”

“Either that or they lied.” I paused, allowing us all to bathe in his awkwardness. “But that’s neither here nor there. Do you two know each other?” I gestured between Fraser and him, saving us both from the grim reality of my parents’ lies.

“I recognised your friend from an event I attended last month. Just another charitable art fundraiser of sorts.”

“Art?” I turned to Fraser, laying an impressed look on him. “I didn’t have you down as a fan of Picasso and the likes, Fraser.”

His playful, casual smirk was his only response.

“Anyway,” the mayor interrupted, drawing my attention back to him, although I was sure to leave Fraser with a parting look that let him know I had questions, and he’d soon be getting them. “I see Lucas and his new bride are gesturing for me to go to them. It must be time for the pictures. Take care, Lott—Charlotte.”

“You, too, Mayor.”

He shot off faster than a cat burglar at the sound of an alarm, leaving me to spin on my heels back to Fraser with an accusatory glare.

“It looked like you were arguing to me.”

“Really?” He scowled. “This is how you think I’d look when I’m angry?”

“Well… not you, but the mayor—”

“Is full of his own self-importance and often likes to use his hands to gesticulate when talking. Everybody knows this about him.”

“So, you two do know each other?”

“He’s the mayor of London. Everyone knows him.”

“Fraser…”

His smile dropped, an impatient sigh falling free. “Charlotte, let’s not overcomplicate this, okay? You brought me here for a favour. I’m halfway through completing that favour for you. Can’t we just leave it at that?”

I swallowed the weird lump in my throat. Half from the reminder that we were, in fact, two people who didn’t know each other this morning and wouldn’t know each other after tonight… but also from the way Fraser’s entire demeanour changed as though he had something to hide.

“Sure.” I nodded.

He pushed himself off the bar and stepped closer, leaving me to look up at his towering form with wide eyes.

“Tell me… do you think you can trust me?” he asked.

“I haven’t made my mind up yet.”

“Wrong. Your answer should have been no. Never trust a stranger, Charlotte. Trust has to be earned, and earning takes time.”

“You’re infuriating.” I ran my hand over my forehead before I dropped it. “Am I going to regret bringing you here?”

“That depends on what you’re expecting out of it.”

“Just help me get through this thing alive,” I said quietly. “That’s all I want from you.”

“That, I can manage.”

“And don’t, I don’t know, mug me or anything.”

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