Page 105 of Forbidden Romeo

I glance at myself once more before taking a deep breath and marching to the door.

“Where are you-”

“To this stupid gala,” I say over my shoulder.

Kate bites her lip, “Padraic said he wanted to wait to introduce you–”

“Fuck Padraic fucking Duffy, I want to get this over with,” I say as I yank the door open. “It’s like you said; I just need to show my face and smile. If Padraic wants me to be a spectacle, I’m going to do it on my own terms.”

As I stride across the hallway, I can already hear the murmurings of guests and the pleasant hum of a live quartet. People had been arriving for the last hour or so, but hanging around in Kate’s room was making me restless.

The blonde eases off her protesting and quickly falls into step beside me.

“Remember, let Jack do the talking and try to avoid anyone that might remember you from before,” she says as she takes my arm, guiding me toward the dual staircase for our grand entrance.

“If no one has said anything by now, I assume they’re either dead or don’t care. Or both,” I mutter back.

“Still, be alert,” Kate whispers as we reach our destination.

The foyer is quite beautiful. The decoration plays into the traditional architecture of the room, and a newly installed water fountain trickles happily in time with the band. If it weren’t for the modern dresses and all the skin on show, it would feel like I’d stepped into Regency era-Britain.

I take a step down the stairs, then another. I’m not arrogant enough to presume the guests will stop to watch my arrival, but with the blonde by my side, it’s a little satisfying to see some of the women move their husbands on by a little quicker.

As we take the final step, Kate squeezes my arm and nods toward where Jack has emerged from the crowd. His hazel eyes are glued to me, even as he approaches the both of us.

“Chroí.”

“Jack,” I reply curtly.

Kate glances between the two of us a little nervously. “I’ll leave you guys to it.”

Jack doesn’t stop staring at me as Kate makes her exit. “You look as beautiful as ever.”

I offer him a sweet smile. “You still look like an asshole.”

Just as he narrows his eyes, a server walks past with a tray of champagne flutes. I reach over to grab two and turn back to find Jack holding his hand out expectantly for it.

I stare at him for a moment, then down one of the glasses in one. Then put the empty flute in his outstretched hand.

“Shall we get on with it?” I say, taking a dainty sip from the other glass.

Jack’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t rise to the bait. “With pleasure.”

He takes my arm and leads me through the room. More than a few guests turn to stare at us as we pass by, but I keep my head held high. Focusing on what I assume is Jack’s destination, the bar.

But suddenly, he jerks and changes course. My heart sinks as we approach a gaggle of overdressed, over-painted young women.

“Jacky!” The apparent leader of this pack of frills and puffy sleeves says as she leans in to kiss his cheek. “Where have you been?”

The way her hand lingers on his arm makes my blood boil, and I can’t help but “tsk” loud enough for Jack to hear.

But he ignores me. “Business has kept me busy.”

“I heard the most awful rumor,” the leader chirps. “They’re saying you’reengaged.”

I stiffen as the woman’s eyes dart toward me, then at the arm tucked through Jack’s.

“Guilty,” Jack says with a sly smile. “I’d like to introduce my fiance, Roisin Maguire.”

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