Page 38 of Seduced By You

“Oh, shush. I’m far from perfect. And you don’t need to fake it when we’re alone.”

“What if they have cameras on us?” I grinned to hide the pain her comment had caused.

“Then, considering my performance over the ‘one-bed-gate,’ I’d say the game is already up.”

“Fair point well made.”

I lay down on the bed, my arms braced behind my head as Lee dried her hair and applied makeup that, by the time she’d finished, looked as if she weren’t wearing any yet gave her complexion a fresh-faced natural beauty. It was a skill, I realized, and one she’d clearly perfected. Not that it mattered to me. She looked gorgeous with or without makeup.

She perched on the edge of the bed and slipped on her shoes. Standing, she smoothed her hands over her hips and angled her head to one side.

“Will I do?”

I ran my tongue over my lips and swallowed. “There won’t be a woman in that room who stands a chance of eclipsing you.” I hadn’t meant to voice my earlier thoughts, but I couldn’t help it. She might be faking, butIwasn’t. I wouldn’t get another chance to be so open with my feelings. If she questioned me, I’d say I was method acting.

She didn’t, though. She smiled, leaned over, giving me a bird’s-eye view of her cleavage, and kissed my cheek.

“You’re too good to me, Kadon.”

I sat up with my back to her so she wouldn’t see my cock tenting my dress trousers and prayed for the fucking thing to deflate. “We’re a team,” I said, pretending to retie my laces to buy a little time. “We’re good to each other.” I stood and fastened my suit jacket, hiding my semi.

“Look at you. So handsome.” She brushed her hands over my lapels.

Sticking out my elbow, I smiled at her. “Ready?”

She sighed. “As I’ll ever be.”

According to the itinerary, tonight’s dinner was in the ballroom. Signs guided us down a hallway filled with paintings of what I presumed were familial ancestors. My knowledge of architecture would fit on the head of a pin, but I’d guess this place was hundreds of years old. Probably passed down through the generations. I preferred modern builds, like my place in Saint Tropez or the apartment I kept in Seattle for when I returned home, but I appreciated the history as we followed in the footsteps of people long since dead.

A few guests nodded to us as we entered the ballroom. Circular tables seating eight, ten, and twelve filled the space, dressed in crisp white tablecloths, polished silverware, and centerpieces of white lilies and yellow roses. Some tables were already full, and at the far end was a stage with gear set up for a band. A banner hung along one wall with “Congratulations Fenella and Benedict” emblazoned across it.

“And this isn’t even the wedding, or the rehearsal dinner,” I murmured to Lee as I scanned the seating plan. “Table sixteen.” I took her hand—God, that never got old—and weaved through the tables toward ours, which was right in the middle of the room. “All these people can’t be staying here, surely? I mean, the place is enormous, but it’s not Buckingham Palace.”

“Oh, they’re not.” She glanced up at me and winked. “We’re special guests, don’t you know?”

“Lucky us.” I pulled out her chair and waited for her to sit, then sat beside her. Four other people were already sitting at our table, leaving two chairs currently free.

We introduced ourselves, and when the inevitable question of “How do you know the bride and groom?” came along, Lee smoothly replied, “Oh, we’re old friends,” then immediately turned the subject onto the other guests. It was a masterful tactic. Most people loved the opportunity to talk about themselves, and these four—distant cousins of the bride, apparently—took up the mantle with gusto.

Another couple arrived. We went through the same recitation, with Lee using her earlier approach to divert attention away from us. Dinner was a five-course affair, and as efficient servers cleared our dessert plates, the couple to Lee’s left made their excuses and rose from the table. In seconds, Benedict appeared and plunked himself in one of the spare seats, almost as if he’d been hovering and waiting for the opportunity.

“Did you enjoy the dinner?” he asked, plowing on before waiting for an answer. “Better watch that figure, Annaleesa. You don’t want to get fat now that you’re no longer modeling.” He guffawed, turning to the other guests. “Did you know Annaleesa used to be a top model? She gave it up when I broke off our engagement.”

He made that stupid laugh again while I scrunched the tablecloth in my fists and envisaged the material running red with his blood. What a fucking prick.

“First, Lee doesn’t need to watch her figure. She’s perfect whatever size she is. And second, she didn’t give up modeling because of you. She gave up modeling because she wanted a different life for herself.” I let go of the tablecloth and traced the back of my hand over her cheek, smiling at her with the love I felt in my heart. A woman sitting across from us sighed wistfully.

“It didn’t take you very long to land another rich guy, huh, Annaleesa?”

This jerk was walking a rapidly thinning line.

Lee beat me to a retort. Picking up her champagne flute, she traced her fingertip around the rim. “Considering I’m wealthier than you are, Benedict, I’d say you were the gold digger.” She gestured around the room with its crystal chandeliers and expensive art adorning the walls. “Nice to see that hasn’t changed.”

Despite vibrating with anger at the fucking gall of this dickhead, I laughed. Lee didn’t need me to come to her rescue. She was more than capable of handling this jerk herself.

“And as you brought up the subject of how long it took me to find someone else, it’s only right to point out that I took a lot longer than you.” She put her hand on my leg, I guessed as a warning not to react to his attempts to rile me, but my dick didn’t know that. No, all my dick thought was “We’re off.” I wasn’t sure how to break the news to him that the only action he was likely to see this weekend was attached to my wrist.

I draped an arm around Lee’s shoulder, conscious that we had an audience hanging on to every word of this exchange. Not that I gave a flying fuck.

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