Page 136 of Morally Black Betrothal

Simone’s sweet voice forced me to return to the present and assume the mask that had protected me my entire life. I ignored the amusement dimpling Ronan’s face. The shock and eagerness coloring Shea’s. The satisfied grin splitting Owen’s.

Somehow, I forced a smile myself. I released Simone and clapped my hands along with everyone else, raised my champagne glass in a too-loud toast to my father’s health, and joined everyone in a nauseating chorus of “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow.”

Simone sang with me, but I could feel her nerves shaking when I wrapped my arms back around her shoulders, if only because I needed something solid.

As Dad left the stage, she turned in my arms and tapped my chest. “Brendan. What does it mean?”

My father was now accepting handshakes and congratulations from his executives, board members, and other countless people looking to squeeze their last bit of profit from riding Niall Black’s coattails while they could. At one point, that razor-sharp gaze found me, and a white brow arched wryly, as if to say,your move, son.

“It means our work isn’t done yet,” I told her. “It means we still have three months to go.”

31

DOGFIGHT

Simone

“So, I have to know. How on earth did you snag The Black Prince?”

To the pair of chestnut-haired women with painted faces that barely seemed to move when they talked, I offered a sheepish smile around a mouthful of shrimp. Using food to keep myself from speaking had been my tactic all evening to bypass variations of the same question: what the heck did a girl like you do to catch the biggest fish in the pond?

From the sound of it, some of these girls had been fishing for over a decade. And they were just as interested in how to kick me out of the boat too.

As soon as Mr. Black finished his speech, Brendan and I had been invited to dance with the crowd to what they said was our “song” (that we had connected over Stevie Wonder’s “Isn’t She Lovely?” was news to me), and then we had listened to approximately a hundred and forty more toasts in our honor. Then, as if the Gilded Age mansion and its opulent grounds weren’t intimidating enough (I wasn’t sure just how many car-sized chandeliers one house needed, but in the walk through the grand foyer, I had spotted at least four), Brendan was spirited away by investors, board members, and plenty of scary-looking business people.

That was when my pseudo-engagement party turned into an interview with every socialite on the eastern seaboard.

And let me tell you, these girls were brutal.

“Patrice!” squealed the woman to her friend. “How can you even ask her that? Do you want to know the size of his parts too?”

“Pretty sure we gotthatinformation from Danica Edwards in Miami, 2014, remember?”

The two of them burst into giggles, and I took the opportunity to grab another shrimp from a passing waiter to avoid answering the question. They’d been getting increasingly more…personal as the night progressed, along with the amount of champagne that had been imbibed.

“Oh, please, Camille,” Patrice said. “Like you don’t want to know. You chased him for the better half of last year.”

Camille rolled her eyes. “Much good it did me. The man is a monk. Except with present company, apparently.”

They both turned to me with more giggles, clearly awaiting my response.

This time, unfortunately, I was caught without a shrimp in sight.

“We just…connected,” I said with a shrug. “There’s really not much more to it than that.”

“‘Connected.’ Right.” Patrice winked with her spidery lashes. “So is it true? Is he as much of a devil in the bedroom as out? Or maybe it’syouwho’s the real temptress, since you got him to put a ring on it, huh?”

“Um…” I fumbled, then nabbed a cheese puff off a passing tray and popped it into my mouth with another awkward smile.

Patrice and Camille both tittered, as if on command.

God, what time was it? Kate had insisted watches were not appropriate with evening gowns, so I was left feeling as if I’d been sucked into a time warp. Several hours must have passed. At what point was my duty served? How many of these people, most of whom were completely smashed, would even notice if I disappeared for the night?

The other truth was that I was finding it harder to lie. Not just about being in a fake relationship, but also about the fact that part of me wanted to know the answers to these sorts of questions as badly as the other women. Brendan’s kisses still tingled on my lips, and the imprint of his hands on my waist burned. And every so often, I would catch his glance from the other side of the pool, looking like a ship lost at sea, searching for a safe port in a storm.

Looking at me like I was the lighthouse sent to guide him home.

I constantly had to remind myself that the yearning looks, the lingering touches, the gentle kisses were all in service of our charade.