Page 106 of Merry Fake Bride

I crave to see her.

She told me she’d gotten herself a beautiful dress and I resisted looking at the charge on my card to see where she bought it from.

She could turn up in a garbage bag and she’d still be more beautiful than anyone else at this party.

Down below, my mother’s laugh carries obnoxiously through the air as she weaves back and forth through the crowd, wearing a green dress that rivals the shade of the four Christmas trees set up around the hall.

Each one is next to a table for people to bid on different prizes ranging from luxury cruises to a brand-new helicopter—the true cost of charity.

My phone buzzes lightly in my suit jacket, but rather than reaching for it, my eyes dart back to the entrance to the hall and my heart stills in my chest.

She’s here.

Devon steps into the hall and steals my breath away.

Her curvaceous body is wrapped up in an absolutely stunning silver floor-length dress that wraps her up in starlight and glitters from every angle.

The heart-shaped corset carefully hugging her chest melts into sheer fabric that covers her shoulders and drapes down her arms like the glittering trail left by shooting stars.

Her thick hair is curled and scooped to one side, draping over her shoulder, while her free ear is glittering with a dangling red earring the same shade as the lipstick swept over her kissable lips.

Martin stands next to her, nodding as they exchange words, and she nervously clutches a gold tote to her abdomen.

I’ve never descended stairs faster in my life.

It’s a wonder I make it down without breaking my neck and I’m slightly breathless by the time I reach them.

Martin flashes me a smile and melts into the crowd, but the entire room might as well be empty because all my attention, all my focus is on her.

“Devon.” Her name warms my throat. “You look absolutely beautiful.”

Her dark-lined eyes meet mine briefly before her gaze falls away, shy. “It’s not too much?” she whispers.

“It’s perfect.” I refrain from tacking on ayou’re perfectand offer her my elbow. “I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’re here.”

Devon loops her hand around my arm, and it’s then that I notice the absence of her blue cast.

My heart skips a beat and our eyes meet again as a cheeky smile crosses her face. “Surprise,” she murmurs. “I got my cast off yesterday.”

“Are you okay? How is your arm? Are you in any pain?”

“Kairo, relax.” She leans into me with a soft laugh, her eyes sparkling.

“I’m fine. My wrist is a little tender, and movement feels kind of stiff, but it’s okay. If I’m honest, I feel a little rough, but I think it’s the stress of everything, y’know?”

Concern warms my chest as I listen, then I pat her hand as she holds my elbow. “If you want to leave at any point, let me know. You don’t even need a reason.”

“I’ll be fine,” Devon assures me. “Besides, it’s about time I held up my end of this deal. No one can ask about your dating life with me on your arm.”

She’s right, but as prepared as Devon might be, the people around us are vultures.

As soon as someone spots us together, they descend with all the tact of a lion among pigeons and quiz Devon on every aspect of her life.

I offer as much support as I can, keeping people at a distance from her and redirecting all rude questions.

But Devon holds her own.

She’s honest about who she is, what she does, and her thoughts on the performative nature of the rich in this world, only doing the bare minimum to help out those less fortunate in society.