Page 46 of The Bad Wedding Date

“Don’t worry. She doesn’t compare to you.”

“If I didn’t know any better, Fraser, I’d say you were trying to be charming.” I raised a brow, waiting to see if he pushed back with something that would encourage me to lean in and feel his lips against mine. I wanted them now. I wanted them and his kisses on my terms, and I think the stars in my eyes may have shown him that, too.

His face slipped as though he could read my thoughts, and I was released at once while Fraser fidgeted with the collar of his shirt and looked around the dance floor. “Okay, that’s all you’re getting from me and my feet.”

“Sounds like Michael Bublé is coming on anyway.”

Fraser grimaced and faked a shudder.

“May I have this dance?” came a voice from behind me.

I spun around to see Matteo Vega—the most famous chef, multi-millionaire, and savviest entrepreneur the world had ever seen—looking down on me with a sly smile that had my insides curling, despite the friendly smile I offered him.

“Matteo!” I cried out with a little too much enthusiasm for someone I wasn’t particularly keen on. He’d been a friend of the family for so long now, being fake with him came as easily as it did with the rest of them. “I wondered where you’d got to. I haven’t seen you all day or night. The food today was exquisite. You must be so proud.”

He smirked at me, his Italian skin weathered and crinkled around his eyes. Matteo smelt of money, just like the rest of them, only his eyes were the green of a villainous snake’s, and his bright, white, fake teeth sparkled like a jewel would around a woman’s neck. If vampires were to exist, he’d be a prime suspect as one of them. He eyed you like he could make a good meal out of you like he made good meals out of meat and vegetables.

“Charlotte,” he said with his thick accent—one of the few to use my preferred name. “How is it you get more beautiful with every passing year?”

“Come on, Matteo. You know that kind of talk doesn’t work on me.”

“That’s because you’re not thirsty like the rest of them,” he said with a wicked grin, leaning closer as though he was sharing a secret. “Which only makes you even more attractive.”

I faked another smile, trying desperately not to let it turn into a grimace or audible groan. This man was a Michelin star chef who had had the world at his feet before he’d disappeared from England to live a life somewhere in Europe for the last two years. After hitting the height of his fame through his restaurants, as well as a long stint on daytime television, he’d simply issued a statement to say he’d earned his millions and now wanted to retire to sunnier climates. There’d been speculation about it throughout the country, but that soon drifted away, just like Matteo’s infamous need for the spotlight. Still, he’d somehow managed to remain the most sought-after chef around here. The fact that Emmie had managed to get him to oversee the catering for her wedding was sure to make the gossip magazines, just as she wanted. This was his first return to England, and it was all because of her.

I guess Mayor Williamson made a good choice in making Matteo the godfather of his son Lucas all those years ago. Matteo could hardly say no to his godson.

“How is life in your undisclosed location in Europe?” I asked him.

“Hot and lonely.”

“I take it you’re yet to find a new Mrs Vega.”

“In order to find one, I’d have to be actively seeking. I prefer to keep my options open now that I’m an old man. The few years I have left are too important to waste.” He winked, and it made my insides shrivel. “How about you? Any undeserving men happened to whisk you up in their greedy claws to take you away from the rest of us?”

“Well, actually, let me introduce you to…” I turned to Fraser, only to see his entire body had gone rigid as he stared at Matteo. His jaw was tight, his nostrils flared, his eyes unblinking—a complete contrast to the man he’d been all day.

I frowned up at him. “Hey, are you okay?”

He didn’t react. I wasn’t even sure he’d heard me.

I turned back to Matteo, who was now looking at Fraser himself with a look of amusement and confusion on his face. “So, this is the lucky fellow.”

“Matteo, this is Fraser. I suppose he’s my… he’s my… date.”

“You suppose?”

I laughed awkwardly. “No, he is. He definitely is.”

When I looked at Fraser again, he swallowed and blinked rapidly before his face finally softened, like he was shaking himself out of a daydream… or, by the look of things, a nightmare.

Fraser nodded, strapping on a smile that clearly hadn’t come naturally.

Matteo, intrigued, held out his hand. “Fraser. What a charming name.”

Fraser’s jaw twitched before he reached out to take Matteo’s hand in his. Matteo’s brows pinched together before he pulled his hand away and gently shook it out as though that had hurt.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Matteo clearly lied.

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