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“What are you thinking about? How much people are going to judge you tonight? Or the fact that Noah’s at the family house alone?”
I turn to him and stare. It’s eerie how attuned he has become to me. So much so that he can now read my damn thoughts.
“Neither,” I lie. “I was thinking about how nice your ass looks in your tux.”
He smirks and quickly turns to me before his eyes return to the road. “Not as nice as yours,” he says simply.
We’re at this point. Harmless flirting, teasing, and overall friendliness. It’s better this way. I flatten my palm against the shiny white material of my short, body-hugging dress. It’s a pretty dress, a gift courtesy of Sam. Noah’s not the only one she likes to dress up. There are rhinestones covering the bust area and the sweetheart neckline is doing wonderful things for my boobs. Plus, the dress is Versace. One can’t really go wrong there.
We finally arrive at the Crane house. I’ve been at this place a million times and I can safely say this is the most nervous I’ve ever been. Michael drives up to the home and a valet appears, ready to park the car. Another valet is on the other side of my door, opening it and offering his hand to help me out. Michael is at my side as soon as I step out. I loop my hand through his arm and try to smile.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Not even a little bit,” I mutter.
I feel rather than see him smile. “You’ll be great,” he assures me before leading me into the den of wolves.
CHAPTER15
MICHAEL
Christine and Matthew had been broken up for a year before we slept together. In any normal circumstance, that would mean their relationship was dead. She could have slept with anyone and everyone she wanted to. They weren’t together anymore, and they certainly weren’t in love.
I could lie to myself all I want and tell myself that, but the truth is, I was the one Matthew confided in. I was the one he would groan and whine to about how much he missed her and how much he wanted to get back together.
All that stopped eventually, way before Christine came back for our father’s funeral, but a part of me always knew that she was off-limits. I was angry at Christine for breaking his heart and angry at myself for being glad for it.
Which is why Matthew’s not going to forgive me easily. Because I knew, my mom knew, and my aunt knew that he wasn’t truly over his ex-girlfriend when I slept with her. It’s why I’m such an asshole for doing it anyway. And why he’s still not talking to me.
Even now, he’s on the other side of the room, as far away from me as he can get, as he talks and mingles with guests. Christine hasn’t left my side since we arrived. Her hand is on my arm as we navigate the large ballroom in my house. I’ve been introducing her as my date the entire time.
“Can we go see Noah now?” she asks after a long conversation with the head of a conglomerate.
I smile and nod, leading her toward the flight of stairs. We’re waylaid by my aunt, however.
“Hey, Mel,” I greet.
“Good evening, Aunt Mel,” Christine says politely.
She looks uncomfortable in my aunt’s presence, and I can’t say I really blame her. The look she’s giving Christine right now is ice cold. I’ve asked her countless times what her problem is with Christine, but she refuses to talk.
“Why are you parading her around the party like she’s your date?” Mel questions.
Christine’s hand loosens around my arm, but I put my hand on top of hers, holding it in place. “She is my date,” I say in reply.
“Michael, dear, I understand that you’re trying your best to mend fences with your son’s mother, but must you really go to these lengths? It doesn’t look good for her to be on your arm, especially since we’re about to make an announcement to introduce Noah to the world.”
“I’m not following. Isn’t that all the more reason for us to show solidarity?”
Her eyes narrow. “Why should we show solidarity to someone who hurt our family for so long?”
Christine is completely silent beside me. Only her death grip on my arm is showing how affected she is by my aunt’s words.
“Lay off her, Mel,” I say curtly before walking myself and Christine around her.
We begin to ascend the steps. “Why does she hate me so much?” Christine mutters.
“Not sure,” I admit. “Did you prank her or something when we were younger?”
