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“Well…” I can’t even figure out how to tell Xavier I had a wedding and never even mentioned to him I was getting married, much less didn’t invite him.
Rhiannon’s eyes widen. “Oh, my god. Are you two married?”
“Uh…” Pull it the fuck together.
“No, here’s a better question,” Xavier says, shaking his head. “Are you married and you didn’t invite us?”
I lean in, whispering into Xavier’s ear. “It’s a job. Keep it cool.”
Xavier pulls back. “Got it. Well, let me congratulate you both. A toast.” He raises his glass of whiskey. “To Sophia and Dean, the second hottest couple in the room tonight.”
Rhiannon clinks her glass with her husband’s and then with Sophia’s. “Tell me how you two met.”
“It’s an endless story,” Sopia says. “So, how long have you all known each other?”
“I’ve known Xavier and Dean since we were little,” Rhiannon says.
Sophia laughs. “Oh, I’m sure you have some great stories to tell.”
“No, it’s fine,” I cut in, trying to steer the conversation to safer grounds.
“She has tons of stories,” Xavier says, giving his wife a wink. His expression looking at Rhiannon says it all. With her red hair twisted on the top of her head, and her lithe body tucked away in a shimmery green dress, she looks like a million bucks but is worth far more to him than any wealth or item he could ever possess. And this odd feeling fills my chest again.
What the fuck is happening to me? Why does the idea of being married no longer repel me?
“I didn’t like Dean much growing up,” Rhiannon says. “He was always trying to impede on me and Xavier.”
I laugh, and so does Xavier. “That’s not true.”
“Is to,” Rhiannon says, parking a hand on her hip. “Dean is the ultimate bad boy. I’m happy he’s found someone like you.” Rhiannon doesn’t know our marriage is a sham, as Xavier hasn’t had the opportunity to tell her yet.
The orchestra plays a wistful song, and Xavier and Rhiannon stare at one another. “This brings back memories from the opera. Remember?” he says.
“As if I could ever forget,” Rhiannon says as if they are the only two people in the room.
Xavier asks his wife to dance, and they say their goodbyes, heading to the dance floor.
“Should we dance too?” I ask Sophia.
She smiles. “It wouldn’t be unheard of.”
I lead her to the dance floor, giving a nod to Humphrey Hollingsworth when our eyes meet across the room. “One dance and then we need to get to work.”
I take her into my arms, pulling her close and smelling the fresh scent of her hair. She feels right in my arms, like someone made our bodies to connect with each other. As I twirl her around the floor, men in the room ogle her beauty. It should make me proud, but it pisses me off. Maybe because she’s not mine. I’m just like every other man in this room wishing she belonged to me.
“Your friend seems nice. Maybe I picked the wrong friend?” Sophia smiles as she nods in Xavier’s direction.
I shake my head with a laugh. “No, no. You don’t want him.”
“No?”
“Definitely not.” I have a demanding edge to my tone. “You know his wife told me a secret.” I lean in, like I have something vital to tell her.
“Oooh, what’s this secret?”
“She says he’s not that much fun in bed.”
Sophia’s laugh is deep and refreshing. It’s a laugh I’d like to hear more often in my presence. “I doubt that’s true. Look at her,” she nods toward Rhiannon, “she looks totally smitten.”
I lean in again. “Well, she feels like she owes him.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because he saved her life.”
Sophia play-slaps me on the shoulder. “She looks like a woman madly in love.”
I glance over at my friends Xavier and Rhi. Sophia’s right, they both look completely in love with each other. “I guess they can be in love, but he’s still not much fun in the bedroom.”
Sophia knows I’m joking. “Oh, but you aren’t boring?”
I swallow. The thoughts running through my head right now are not of the boring type. Things I could do with Sophia. It would be very fun. I push the thoughts away and smirk. “I’m definitely fun in the bedroom.”
“I don’t doubt that for a second.” The way she says it, all breathy and such, makes my dick harden instantly.
“What are you doing to me, Sophia?”
She stares at me in silence as we make our way around the dance floor. Finally, when the song is over, she speaks, “I’m going to find Mr. Hollingsworth.”
“I already see Eddie across the room.” I kiss her cheek before whispering into her ear, “Be careful.”
“You too,” she says.
We go our separate ways and I head toward Eddie Gallo. He’s your typical playboy, coiffed dark hair and a poor excuse for a beard, already working the room, chatting it up to a couple of blondes. I step up next to him and order a drink at the bar.
