Page 89 of Fakers with Benefits

Instead, I said to Adelaide, “I love your dress. Is that Chanel? I recognize it from the new collection.”

“It is.” She beamed and smoothed her hand down the skirt of her gold and red gown. “You have quite the eye for fashion.”

“Did someone say fashion?” Emily appeared at Evan’s side.

“You’ve been summoned,” Vlado teased.

“How about we step aside and let the ladies have a chat about dresses and flowers.” Grant gave Evan a pointed look.

Evan stiffened beside me.

“I’ll be right here when you’re done,” I told him, hoping to defuse the rising tension.

Evan nodded and pecked a quick kiss against my lips. “I won’t be long.”

“Take your time.” My cheeks flamed hot with a blush that wasn’t fake. “You know how much I love fashion talk.”

If Grant had an issue with me not being manly enough for his son, then I was going to lean into it and be the most extra bitch I could get away with. I didn’t have to get Grant to like me if Adelaide and Emily were team Nick.

Evan gave me another kiss, then traded a look with Vlado.

“You don’t need to go stand in my brother’s shadow?” Emily asked Vlado when Grant and Evan had stepped out of earshot.

“You know me, I can’t resist a good conversation about fashion.”

Emily laughed as Adelaide smiled. Interesting.

Vlado had said that his mom was Emily and Evan’s nanny, and that was how they’d become friends. I’d assumed Evan’s parents would look down on Vlado for being the help, and the kid of the help, but Adelaide’s smile was filled with warmth and affection.

“Can I just say that this”—Emily waved her hand at me—“is what I call alook. The cut, the contrast, I’m here for all of it.”

I smiled, a very real one. “Thanks. I was a bit hesitant to wear something so nontraditional, but this shirt”—I plucked at the neckline—“was calling my name and I couldn’t resist.”

Emily gently smoothed her fingertips over the material of the shirt where it peeked out from under my lapel. “Exquisite. Imagine it with a pair of slim-fit black trousers, and maybe some utilitarian calf boots.”

“With buckles, not laces,” I said. “And a chunky heel.”

“Exactly!” She nodded enthusiastically. “But it needs something else. Something that just brings everything together.” She tapped her lips with her finger.

“I have the most gorgeous vintage steampunk vest that would do just that.” I waved my hands like I was setting a stage. “Picture this—a nineteen-twenties waistcoat-style front with a leather corseted back.”

“What color?” she asked.

“Front is dark gray with black leather trim. Back is black.”

“Does the vest have a built-in harness with the clip straps?”

“It does. Matte black leather and brushed silver accents and buckles.”

“Is the corset held together with ribbon, or leather ties?”

“Black ribbon.”

“Perfection.” She clapped. “We’re definitely keeping you.”

The warmth in her tone and smile did weird things to my belly.

“You must come to my tasting.” Emily looked at her mother. “He can take your place.”

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