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Because the sex would be too good?
Nope, try again.
Because Zelda is expecting me to do my Dashford duty downstairs?
Zelda. Duty.
Shit.
What if this unwelcome interruption screws our whole plan? Right now, Callie isn’t feeling so much like a fake girlfriend as a very real temptation, but that doesn’t mean we can afford to let our guard down.
We’re running out of time to convince Zelda to release my trust. And, sure, I seem to forget about the whole point of this trip every time Callie smiles at me, but if we head back to New York tomorrow without locking it down?
I won’t have the cash available to invest in her makeup line.
That thought sobers me up, real quick. After everything she’s done to help me out—and all the hard work she’s put into her company, there’s no way I can let her down now. Every time she talks about it, she lights up. Talking on the boat today, it’s clear, this dream means everything to her.
And I can help make it happen.
I take a deep breath. Finally, a motivation stronger than the lust drumming in my veins.
OK, new plan: keep my shit together—and our clothes on—long enough to convince Zelda I’m stable and respectable. And not seducing girls in her guestroom.
Eyes on the prize, mister.
* * *
I head down to the party. Zelda always goes all out for her galas, but this is something else. There seems to be some kind of demented fairy wonderland theme, so everything is covered in trails of silver moss, sparkling jewels, and catering staff dressed as weird woodland nymphs. The place is already getting busy with guests in their fancy cocktail finery, and I greet some familiar faces as I make my way outside to the terrace, where there’s a full bar set up.
“Whiskey, neat, double. Please,” I add, taking a look around. Outside, the decorations are even more over-the-top. How the hell did Zelda manage to get a full-on fake oak tree set up in the middle of the lawn?
“I can’t figure out if it’s more Bridgerton or Game of Thrones,” Piper joins me, looking disarmingly sweet in a floral-print gown. “I mean, both have plenty of nudity,” she adds with a smirk.
I groan. “You heard?”
“I had to give Zelda smelling salts,” she laughs, teasing.
I shake my head. “It was totally innocent.”
At least, to begin with.
“Hey, it’s not my fault you chose this weekend to test out your exhibitionist tendencies. Poor Zelda. At least she believes she has one sweet and virginal grandchild left.”
“Believes being the operative word,” I grumble.
Piper bats her lashes. “Who, me?”
I shake my head. My sister’s romantic life is a no-go topic of conversation.
“Where’s Callie?” she asks.
“Probably fleeing for the hills,” I reply, rueful. We didn’t have a chance to talk after Zelda walked in—Callie was too busy racing back to her room.
“Aww, she’ll get over it. What’s a little humiliation between friends?” Piper grins.
“I hope so.”
“Look at you,” Piper beams.
