Mackie’s eyes widen as he looks at the gift, which is a very distinct black-velvet jewelry box. “Father, you can’t get my boyfriend jewelry before I do,” I admonish.
“Then you should have been quicker,” he retorts. “Open it, Mackie.”
Mackie spares me a look before opening it, and we both stare, wide-eyed, at the necklace carefully placed inside.
Our family crest is pressed into a medallion inlaid with diamonds. It’s easily worth a few million and doesn’t even surprise me. What does is that my dad is giving it to Mackie. “I thought gold would match your skin tone more than silver. I hope that’s okay, but I can always change it.”
I don’t tell Mackie because he would freak and give it back if he knew how expensive it was and also what it means. My father would only give the family crest to someone he intends for me to marry. Even my mother didn’t get one until I was born.
“It matches your ring.” He looks at me, and I smile softly, my throat tight. “Is the symbol important?”
“It’s our family crest,” my father explains. “I would love for you to wear it, as I’m sure Noah would as well.”
“Oh, I can’t accept this,” he protests, but my dad shakes his head.
“Please.” That stops Mackie’s objections. “It would mean a lot to an old man like me.”
Manipulative bastard. So that’s who I get it from.
“Okay, thank you,” Mackie says, carefully removing the necklace. “It’s beautiful. I’m honored.”
He still hesitates, staring at it, and I wonder if he’s panicking about wearing it, but then I see the start of tears in his eyes and realize he’s just touched.
“Baby, it’s okay,” I promise, and he nods, still staring at it.
“Amanda,” my mother greets, sounding far less welcoming, and I sit up. She’s lingering near our table, wearing a slight smirk on her lips.
“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher.” Her eyes flash to me. “Noah, you are looking handsome, and wow, we match.”
I go to answer, but Mackie’s hand covers mine and he turns to her. “Amanda, nice to see you again. Your dress is lovely. I’m sorry we forgot to send you our color scheme for matching outfits. That shade of black isn’t quite right, but who would notice?” His smile is pure evil as I bite back my laugh. “Babe, can you put this on for me?” He offers me the necklace, his eyes on her. Amanda’s smile drops as I place the medallion around his neck. It shines brightly, perfectly fitting between the gap in his suit. He fingers it, making sure she notices it.
“Thank you again, Royce and Carina. I love it. I’ll proudly wear it.” He spares Amanda another look. “I think I saw your seat somewhere over there, dear. Don’t let us keep you.” Dismissing her, he leans into my father. “Tell me all the names of the people I need to remember.”
The look on her face is priceless, and I have to turn away to hide my laughter. I expected him to be intimidated and overwhelmed. After all, she’s used to these parties, and she knows everyone, but if anything, he’s owning the room, and he knows it.
God, I love this man.
FORTY-EIGHT
Despite our clear dismissal, Amanda sits on the other side of Noah, leaning into her hand, her long red nails curled into her palm. Her makeup is perfectly done, as is her hair, and despite being a terrible person, she looks incredible in her dress.
Noah spares her a tired glance before focusing on me. She doesn’t like that, her eyes narrowing. “I didn’t know you were invited, Mackie. You don’t exactly run in these circles.”
“I invited him,” Noah’s father snaps, glaring at her. “He’s my guest of honor.”
“Of course, I meant no harm,” she offers sweetly, fluttering her eyelashes as she leans closer to Noah, who shifts away, looking uncomfortable. “I never asked, Mackie, but how old are you?”
“Why?” I ask as I lay my hand on Noah’s thigh. The pendant swings around my neck and catches her eye for a moment. “Does my age matter?”
“I was just curious. I know Noah and I are of a similar age,” she replies, acting confused. It’s a ploy.
“I’m twenty-four,” I respond, and she fake gasps, covering her mouth.
“Oh my gosh, you’re so young.” She looks at Noah. “He’s so much older than you.”
“What can I say? I like to volunteer to help the elderly,” I tease as I pick up my glass of Champagne and casually take a sip. “I know others who can help you if you wish, since you’re just as old as he is.”
Noah scoffs before turning it into a cough as her eyes narrow on me. She dismisses me and turns to Noah. “I was talking to Timothy Fret earlier. You remember him, right? We were in the same class.” It’s obvious what she’s doing, and I roll my eyes. Even Noah’s parents look uncomfortable but are too polite to do anything about it.
