Page 51 of The Bad Wedding Date

With a curious scowl, I raised the glass to my mouth at the same time he did, merely wetting my lips to appease him before he hopefully left me the hell alone.

“So, the date of yours seems an unusual choice for you, Charlotte. I always imagined you with someone less… rugged. So many tattoos.”

“What’s wrong with tattoos?”

“Shall we ask your mother to answer that?”

“I’m asking you.”

“They are rather middle class.”

“Didn’t you grow up in poor conditions, Matteo? I’m sure an interview I once read about you said your upbringing was less than glamorous.”

His smile slipped. “We were all poor back in those days compared to today’s world. It doesn’t mean we have to choose to return there.”

“Some of us prefer that life to all of this.” I smiled tightly.

“I do suppose being charitable is in fashion.”

“Believe me. I’m not with Fraser to be charitable. I’m here with him because he’s every woman’s dream, even more sobecauseof the tattoos. Hence why half the female population of this room are currently eyeing those doors over there, wondering when he’s going to return so they can get another look at him.”

“Wherehashe disappeared to?”

“I…”don’t know.“He had to take a call.” The lie was so obvious, it made heat rush to my cheeks.

Matteo’s satisfied smirk had me lifting my glass to my mouth to take an actual drink this time, only for my skin to prickle a split second when a warm, familiar hand wrapped itself around mine and pushed the flute away from my lips.

Fraser’s aftershave washed under my nostrils, making me lightheaded before I turned to see him towering over me, glaring, his hand still on mine.

“No more,” he said quietly, firm in his instruction.

I opened my mouth to say something along the lines ofWho the hell do you think you’re talking to?but Matteo’s voice broke through first.

“Excuse me. We’re in the middle of a private conversation here.”

Fraser’s jaw ticked before he slowly turned his head in Matteo’s direction. “You’re excused.”

Matteo’s expression fell. “Who do you think you’re—”

“I really wouldn’t finish that sentence if I were you.”

“Fraser,” I whispered, reaching up to grab his arm.

“You need to leave.” He stared at Matteo, now a colder version of the man I thought I was getting to know. “Now.”

“Do you know who you’re talking to, boy?”

“Oh, I know,” he ground out.

“Then act like it. You do not get to tell me what to do.” Matteo scoffed, looking behind him at his security, one of which promptly stepped forward to challenge Fraser with nothing but a look. The guy was bald, big, and not afraid to get into something heavy. As much as I despised Emmie for everything she’d done to me that day, I wasn’t about to let my fake date ruin her wedding day so they could all accuse me of doing so on purpose.

“Do we have a problem here?” one of the security guys asked Matteo, not taking his eyes away from Fraser.

“No,” I answered for him, dropping the champagne flute to the nearest table before placing myself between Fraser and Matteo. There wasn’t much room, and Fraser’s firm stomach pressed against my back. “No problem. We were just leaving.”

Pushing back into Fraser, I guided us both backwards a few steps before I spun around to face him, looking up as he continued to stare at Matteo as though he was his opponent in a boxing match before the first bell had been rung.

“What in the hell was that?” I hissed, slapping both hands against his chest.

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