Page 13 of Fake Lemons Love and Luxury

WREN

T he Belmont Hotel's grand ballroom sparkles with crystal chandeliers and the glittering jewelry of California’s business elite. I smooth down my emerald silk dress, grateful for the confidence it gives me.

I’m used to events like these. Lights. Music. Photographers calling my name from velvet corners. Smiling like it doesn’t hurt. But tonight, something feels different.

Everyone wants a moment with me. A picture. A conversation. A brush with the woman trying to outrun a scandal. But my eyes keep finding him.

Sean stands near the bar, talking with one of the security leads. Jacket stretched across those wide shoulders. A drink in one hand, his gaze scanning the room. Always watching. Always calculating.

He glances over. Our eyes meet.

Something springs to life in my stomach… and then a fluttering. Butterflies.

I shake it off and turn back to Gary Whitman, the CEO from Haven & Holt, who’s been asking the same question five different ways.

“Sorry, Gary. We don't have any plans for a collaboration as of now,” I say, smiling.

“Aww, Wren. Come on. Sleep on it and give me a call later.”

“We’re busy with our new product launch. With all that’s happened, we have to make sure that launch is hitch-free.”

“Yes, I heard you’re still on track for the launch. Very brave, Wren.”

Brave. That’s one word for it.

“Oh, and here comes my wife, Lauren. She’s been wanting to meet you.”

“Wren Sinclair!” A woman with silver hair approaches, hand extended. “What a pleasure to meet you. Gary knows I’m such a huge fan of yours.”

I take her hand with a warm smile. “Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Whitman.”

“Listen, that Pepperberry Exfoliating Toner is the bomb! I see why you won the Women's Health Skincare Awards last year. Phenomenal work you're doing.”

I beam. I could never get tired of hearing praises about Lemon LLC. This is why I made this company, and I’m proud of the work we do.

“Thank you for saying that. I'm just grateful to have such an incredible team.”

Sean materializes at my side, two champagne flutes in hand. The crisp black tuxedo makes his shoulders look even broader, his jawline sharper under the ballroom lights. He passes me a glass, our fingers brushing.

“And this is…” Lauren's eyes flicker with unabashed interest.

“Sean Langston.” I take a small sip of champagne to hide my reaction to saying his name. “My…”

“Partner,” he finishes, extending his hand. “Pleasure to meet you both.”

Gary smiles. “Good to meet you too. Perhaps you could help me convince Wren to collaborate with Haven & Holt.”

“Haven’t you seen this woman? She's stubborn as a mule.”

I roll my eyes, smiling.

Lauren grins. “Well, aren't you two just the most striking couple? It was nice meeting you two.”

After they move on, we interact with other beauty industry elites, each one more interested in my personal life than my business acumen.

I skirt the personal questions, focusing on Lemon's plans while Sean stands at my side, adding thoughtful comments that show he's been paying attention to my work when he's asked.

A Glitzy reporter glides toward us, microphone in hand.

“Wren Sinclair! How do you do? And wow, you look stunning in that dress? Is that Versace?”

“Why, thank you. I’m wearing Alexander McQueen tonight. A forever fave.”

“You were always the face. But now, people want to know the man behind the mystery,” he nods toward Sean.

I laugh it off, then excuse myself before he can bring up more questions about our relationship and propose having us on a cover.

“You're pretty good at this for someone who hates social events,” I whisper when we have a moment alone.

“I don't hate all social events.” His eyes meet mine. “Just depends on the company.”

Our eyes meet then and I smile.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you overwhelmed yet?”

“Not yet. I’m used to this, even though I don't attend many events now. I've been doing these things since I was nineteen.” I toss him a smile. “But having backup tonight is nice.”

His hand finds the small of my back, guiding me through the crowd. The simple touch shouldn't affect me, but warmth spreads across my skin.

“There's Maxwell Pierce,” I whisper. “We’ve been having discussions about funding our new app project. He hasn't responded since the scandal broke, though.”

“What's our play?”

“Just follow my lead.”

Maxwell spots us approaching. “Wren. Didn't expect to see you tonight.”

“I wouldn't miss it, Maxwell. Have you met Sean Langston?”

“The man who somehow charmed our Wren?” Maxwell shakes Sean's hand, sizing him up. “Words travel fast in our circles.”

“Good things, I hope.” Sean's voice carries an easy confidence.

“Surprising things. Wren's never brought a date to these functions before.”

Heat floods through me. “There's a first time for everything.”

Sean slips an arm around my waist. It feels… easy. Like it belongs there.

“Indeed.” Maxwell studies us. “Though I must say, your timing is interesting with everything happening at Lemon.”

“Sean’s an old friend and he's helping with crisis management.”

Maxwell chuckles. “I suppose the best innovations happen under pressure.”

“Ah Maxwell. You hit the nail on the head. I guess we could say that’s why she’s been spending more time with this broad-shouldered hunk than saving her company,” a new voice interrupts.

I turn to find Ian Geller, one of Maxwell's friends, smirking at us. My spine stiffens but my smile stays fixed.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, come on, Wren. You didn’t fight the plagiarism stuff this hard. But now—” he smirks, “Now you’re bringing the broad-shouldered hunk to galas.”

“Broad-shouldered hunk,” I repeat, deadpan.

He lifts his drink, like it’s a compliment. He turns to Sean, the corners of his lips twitching. “How's it feel dating the woman who's got the whole industry talking? I can't relate.”

Sean's expression doesn't change, but I feel him tense beside me.

“Funny you should mention business concerns, Ian. I was just reading about that privacy lawsuit your company's facing. Three hundred million in damages, was it? Oof.”

Ian's smug expression falters. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“No? That's strange, because my sources are usually quite reliable.”

Ian's face flushes dark red.

“Perhaps you should worry less about my personal life and more about your legal team.”

“Excuse me,” he mutters, stalking away.

Sean's fingers tighten on my waist as he bends to whisper, “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

I bite back a smile.

Maxwell chuckles as he watches Ian retreat. “You haven't lost your edge, Wren.”

I smile. “Now, about what we were discussing the other day…”

Twenty minutes later, Maxwell promises to call my office next week, and I exhale as he walks away.

“That went well.” Sean's voice carries genuine admiration.

“We make a good team.”

I wink and his mouth curves into a smile.

“We do.”

An orchestra starts up, and couples drift toward the dance floor. Sean's hand finds the small of my back.

“Want to get some air?” he asks.

I nod. He guides me toward the balcony doors, his touch never leaving my back.

The balcony overlooks a garden illuminated by strands of fairy lights. The evening carries the scent of blooming flowers. I take a deep breath, letting the tension ease from my shoulders.

“Better?” Sean asks, leaning against the stone railing.

“Much.” I smile at him. “Thank you for coming tonight. I know this isn't your idea of fun.”

He gives me a lopsided smile. “Like I said, the company isn't half bad.”

“Why, thank you.”

“I’m enjoying the night so far, really.” His eyes catch the light, turning them to liquid amber. “Watching you work a room is pretty impressive.”

“I'm just faking my way through.”

“That's not how it looks from where I'm standing.” He steps closer. “You're confident, smart, and everyone in that room knows it.”

Warmth spread through me. “Well, I've had practice.”

“And hilarious.”

“I wouldn't call myself funny.”

“That part is a little surprising to even me.”

I turn to him, hands on my hips. “Did you just call me uptight and boring? Wow, I’m offended.”

Sean throws his head back, laughing. A deep, rich and smooth sound like spiced liqueur. Butterflies flutter in my stomach as I watch him laugh, noting the way his eyes crinkle, the genuineness of his laughter. I’ve never seen him like that before. He looks… happy.

“I didn't say that. I just mean… you can be so strict and precise and ‘I-know-what-I-want-and-I-won’t-deviate-from-it’.”

I roll my eyes, chuckling. “Look who’s talking. Pot calling kettle black?”

“My job requires me to be tough.”

“I’ve never seen you smile before we started this whole thing.”

“That’s not quite right. I still have the picture from your twenty-second birthday. I remember smiling there.”

I gasp. “Oh my God. I remember that. You still have that picture?”

Sean grins.

“Somewhere in my room, I’m sure.”

“Well, that was the first time you smiled at me. And that was because Jen was making goofy faces while we took pictures.”

Sean shakes his head.

“That girl was so tipsy. I don't know how you two went out to party again.”

“The night was still young.”

“I guess the consequence was returning home with the worst hangover. Thank you for bringing her home once again.”

I laugh. “Not without her throwing up on my shoes first.”

“And we bumped into each other like five times trying to clean her up.”

Our laughter fades as our eyes hold, and I know he's thinking about that night the same way I am.The night which springs up at unbidden moments. That night that makes me wonder…

“Then you tried to kiss me,” he teases.

I tear my eyes away from him, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “I guess I was drunk.”

He let out a low chuckle.

“Hmm, right.”

“Stop it.”

“I’m doing nothing.”

“You’re teasing me about it.”

Sean smiles. He pulls me closer, his hand splayed across my back. He leans down, lips almost touching my cheek.

My heart hammers against my ribs.

“Someone’s taking pictures of us.”