The first is that his mouth is open and his eyes are wide as he looks me up and down. I feel actually pretty for the first time in a while, but with the way he’s staring at me, I can’t help but blush.
The second, of course, is the fact that he looks fucking edible himself. He’s opted for a tux, and it’s clearly been tailored to fit him because it looks incredible on the long, trim lines of his body. The black jacket shows off the breadth of his shoulders and their proportion to his waist. His hair is groomed artfully as always, and my mouth goes dry just looking at him.
“You’re one to talk,” I tell him. “God, you look like you should be on the cover of GQ or something, talking about how you make your millions by learning how to let go of the past or whatever.”
He laughs at that and his grin is crooked. “I think that’s a compliment, so thank you. But really, Libby. You look beautiful.”
My face is red, I know it is, and I’ve never heard him compliment me in that tone before. Soft and sincere, eyes shining as he looks at me.
I’m not really sure what to say, so I just shrug. “Thank you. It’s amazing what a few hours in a chair with a makeup artist can do, huh?”
“It’s not the makeup,” he says. “Or the dress before you go there. Although … damn. It looks so good on you, I’m dying to know what it will look like on the floor.”
It’s an expected comment, considering the nature of our ‘relationship,’ but there’s still a little bit of disappointment there. “We don’t have time for that,” I tell him.
I find my earring in the kitchen of all places and put it in my ear, grabbing my purse so we can go.
Ian keeps me distracted from my nerves with idle chatter about meal plans and places he wants to visit when he gets a chance for another vacation. And another comment about us having a quickie in the car before we get to the hotel, which I deflect by telling him if we show up with wrinkles, my nana will have us removed.
We make the drive easily and valet the car. I wipe my hands on my dress and take a deep breath before we head in. Already I can hear music and laughter coming from the ballroom, and my stomach is in knots.
Ian offers me is his arm, though, and I take it, letting him guide me inside.
There’s a man in tails of all things standing at the door, checking names against the guest list and directing people to the coat check.
“Ah, Elizabeth Chastain and guest, there you are,” he says in an overly elegant voice. I can hear Ian stifling a laugh at my side. “You can check your coats just there to the left.”
We thank him and go to do just that before stepping into the ballroom proper.
I’ll say this about my nana: she knows how to throw a party. The hotel itself is one of those super expensive places where you need a reservation months if not years in advance unless you know the right people. Everything is gilded or marble or strung with twinkling lights, and the whole effect is classy and a little magical looking rather than tacky.
There’s a grand piano at one end of the room, and the string quartet is near it, already playing softly. People are mingling in groups and pairs, sipping glasses of champagne in their fancy clothes.
For once, I don’t feel out of place with my outfit. Ian and I blend right in with everyone else, which is a relief.
I catch sight of someone waving, and turn to see Annie heading over, a bright grin on her face. “There you are!” she says when she comes over. “I was wondering when you’d get here. Hi, Ian.” She flutters her lashes at him, and he laughs.
“Annabelle, lovely to see you again.”
“We’re not late,” I say before they have a chance to get started. “It’s just after seven.”
“I didn’t say you were late, but Nana’s already been asking about you.”
I make a face at that. I love my grandmother, I really do, but she’s not like one of those grandmothers you see on TV or in movies. She’s not the warm, cookie baking old lady who greets you at the door with a hug and all that.
No, my nana is a fierce and formidable woman who’s probably never baked a cookie in her life. I crane my neck to see if I can spot her, and of course, she’s right in the middle of everything with my grandfather, dressed in a beautiful silver gown, holding court with a group of her friends.
“We’d better get over there and say hello,” I say with a sigh.
“You wanna hit the open bar first?” Annie asks, and I shake my head.
“No, I’ll need my wits about me for this, but grab me a gin and tonic? Ian?”
He smiles. “Scotch, if they have it.”
Annie and I both laugh. “Oh, they have it,” she says, and heads off to get our drinks.
“Okay,” I say to Ian. “We have to go greet my grandparents. You remember everything I told you about them?”
He nods and takes my hand, squeezing it. “Libby, calm down. I got this. Charming important people is literally what I do for a living. I’m not going to fuck this up, okay?”
“Okay,” I say again, letting out a messy breath. “Okay. Let’s go.”
He keeps ahold of my hand as we weave our way through the throngs of people. Some of the guests are friends and family, but a lot of them are important people my nana wants to impress. The mayor is probably around somewhere, knowing her.
Luckily, there’s no sign of Chris or his grandparents as we make our way over, and an older couple step away just as we get close enough for them to see us.
Grandad breaks into a grin and opens his arms for a hug, which I step into gratefully. Of the two of them, he’s the more down to Earth, and I relax into the hug.
“Look at you,” he says, beaming. “Back from France and looking so lovely. You’ll have to tell us all about it.”
“Of course,” I say, grinning back.
Nana stands there expectantly, a pleasant smile on her face. I kiss both of her cheeks and smile at her. “Hi, Nana. Happy Anniversary, you guys.”
“Thank you, dear,” Nana says. “I’m so glad you could make it.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it,” I assure her. “It’s an important night.”
“And who’s this?” Granddad asks, nodding to Ian who was standing right beside me. “We heard you were bringing a guest, but I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“No, you haven’t,” I say. “This is Ian Black. Ian, my grandparents.”
Ian shakes Granddad’s hand and takes Nana’s so he can kiss the back of it, ever the charmer. They both look pleased with the greetings, which is definitely a plus. “Happy Anniversary,” he says. “And thank you for the invitation. This is a lovely party.”
“Thank you,” Nana says before Granddad can so much as get a word in. “Tell me, how do you know my granddaughter?”
I know what she’s fishing for, and Ian just smiles. “Oh, we’re old friends, actually, but tonight I have the honor of being her date.”
“So, you two are together, then?” Nana wants to know.
Ian nods, his smile never dimming. “We are.”
Nana looks him up and down appraisingly, clearly trying to see if he’s good enough to date me, which is absurd and insulting, but I just stand there and let her get on with it because that’s honestly the easiest thing to do.
She can’t find fault with him. He’s dressed impeccably, in clothes that clearly cost a lot of money. He’s polite and well mannered, charming and educated. I have no doubt that if we actually were dating, Nana would approve.
She taps her lip with one painted fingernail, thinking. “Black, that’s a familiar last name. Darling, who do we know with that name?” she asks Granddad who just looks confused.
“A lot of people I’m sure,” he says.
“My father is Matthew Black,” Ian supplies. “He runs a consulting business, so you might have heard of him.”
Nana snaps her fingers. “That’s right,” she says, smiling widely. “Isadora Franklin was telling me her husband has used your father’s services. They were very impressed.”
<
br /> Ian smiles easily. “I’m glad to hear it. We like keeping people happy.”
“Well, it’s wonderful that Elizabeth has found someone so nice to keep company with.” She smiles at both of us. “Go on and mingle.”
She makes a shooing motion with her fingers, and we’ve been dismissed. I smile one last time at Granddad and then lead Ian away.
Libby
“I am not cut out for this kind of thing,” I grumble to Annie as she waits near the bar for us, holding out a drink for me. I gulp a third of it down in one go.
“What, fancy parties or lying at a fancy party?” Annie asks, smiling innocently.
“Technically,” Ian butts in, “we didn’t lie. I am an old friend and your date for the night, and we are here together. No falsehoods were told.”
Annie giggles. “He’s smooth. You should keep him.”
I shoot her a look that could melt glass, and she waves her free hand in a gesture of surrender. “I’m gonna go investigate the little canapés. You two stay out of trouble.”
It’s probably easier said than done, considering.
The ballroom is filled with people, chatting and laughing, and the music plays over it all, adding to the atmosphere. I haven’t seen my parents yet, or Chris, for that matter, and I’m already counting down the hours until we can leave without seeming rude.
There will probably be a speech at some point. Nana never turns down a chance to stand in the spotlight, after all, so maybe after that, I can claim I don’t feel well and we can leave.
Ian sips his scotch slowly, looking out over the room. His eyes linger on some people and slide over others. I try not to wonder if there’s anyone in attendance that he’s already been with. Or that he wants to be with.
That’s not the point of this, after all, and technically after tonight, his obligation to me is done. I can come up with a good reason why we broke up and never think about it again.
In theory, anyway.
I drain the rest of my drink and think about heading over to the canapés to see what’s edible, when Ian takes the empty glass from my hand.
“Dance with me?” he asks.
I blink, surprised. “What?”
He nods over to where there’s a small, cleared away area near the string quartet where a handful of couples are swaying and turning to the music, dancing close. I think I can see my parents over there, actually. I’m about to open my mouth and say no when Ian holds a hand out to me in a little half bow.
“Please?” he adds, giving me such ridiculous puppy eyes that I can’t help but laugh.
I roll my eyes and give him my hand, and he grins, leading me over.
Now, I’m not usually one for dancing. I know how to do the basics, thanks to a couple of summers spent with my grandparents where they made sure we knew the basics of being classy enough not to embarrass them when their friends were around.
No one is doing any formal dancing, really, so I let Ian take my hand and my waist and pull me close.
The music is soft and it’s easy to pick up the rhythm. Ian leads us in slow turns, and I have to admit it’s nice. I rest my head on his shoulder, feeling the strength and solidness of his frame.
He’s graceful, and it’s clear he’s done this a time or two before. It’s almost easy to forget about everything else.
He spins me around, and I laugh, waving when we brush by my parents who are also dancing. They just smile and look pleased, and then Ian is whisking us past them and into a less populated little patch of the floor, where we can sway and turn on our own.
“You’re good at this,” I say, looking up at him with a smile.
He shrugs. “I’ve done it before. A lot of the women I’ve dated have been upper crust types. You have to know how to do a half decent waltz to get in good with them.”
I snort, amused. “You’re more than half decent, I’d say.”
“Having a good partner helps. You’re coordinated enough not to step on my feet.” He grins and then leans down so his mouth is right by my ear. “And it helps that having you close like this makes me want to do all kinds of naughty things to you.”
I blush fiercely and splutter while he laughs and keeps us moving.
“You’re the worst. You’re terrible and the worst.”
“No, I’m not,” he says, and of course he’s right. He’s really pretty great when it comes down it, and I think with a pang that I’m going to miss this.
We could stay friends, of course, but it won’t be the same.
We dance for a bit more until my stomach growls and the two of us go off to investigate the food. Darren is there, and he gives Ian a handshake and even a smile.
It’s nice that they’re making progress, even if it won’t really matter soon.
I stuff my face with little salmon and dill sandwiches, washing them down with champagne. So far, it’s been a much better night than I could have hoped. Having Ian with me is a relief, and while we eat, he keeps up a steady stream of half muttered insults about some of the more posh people who walk past us.
One woman who has clearly refused to check her white fur stole comes flouncing by and Ian leans down and murmurs “She’s clearly afraid the animal she skinned for that is going to come get its revenge,” in my ear, making me nearly choke on the champagne.
We laugh in our little corner, and the time passes easily.
Then I see Chris.
It’s like the crowd parts, letting me have full view of him on the opposite side of the ballroom. He’s standing with his grandparents and a woman with silky looking dark hair, telling some story that everyone gathered around him is clearly very interested in.
They all hang off his words like he’s giving them the meaning of life, and I feel something unpleasant shift in me, like I’m going to be sick.
Of course, he still looks incredible. Taller than me by several inches, and cutting an impressive figure in a dark burgundy suit. His hair is shorter, deep brown and curly, and he reaches up to push it back out of his face every now and then, casual, but devastating.
The woman on his arm is gorgeous, but she’s a different woman from the one he was cheating on me with. As far as I know, there could have been a lot more women, after all.
I want to tear my eyes away from him, but I can’t.
Other women in the room are watching him, too. Women my age, younger, and older. He’s always been the type of man who draws stares and attention from those around him. Devilishly handsome and confident enough to know how to use it to his advantage.
I feel sick just looking at him, and I wish there was a handy hole that could swallow me up so I don’t have to be in the same space as him.
I don’t want him anymore, at least. I don’t want to go over there and beg him to take me back. I can understand what he did was wrong and he’s a shitty person, but at the same time, there’s a part of me that still longs for his approval.
It’s messed up, and I hate it.
I miss whatever Ian is saying in my ear, and he catches the line of my gaze, following it to see Chris standing there. One eyebrow lifts, and he doesn’t look impressed.
“I’m guessing that’s him,” he says.
“Yep,” I reply, finally forcing myself to look away. “That’s him.”
“He looks like a smarmy jackass,” Ian tells me.
“You’re not wrong about that. He’s so cocky.”
As we stand there looking at him, the group around him laughs again, and something makes him look up and over at us. I try to turn so he won’t see me, but Ian’s just standing there, not giving a single fuck about being seen.
It must be nice to have that kind of confidence. I don’t see what Chris’ reaction is, and thank goodness he doesn’t come over. He stays on his side of the room with his cronies, and I can breathe a sigh of relief.
I end up getting another drink just to calm my nerves.
We go and sit with my parents for a bit, and Ian and my dad get drawn into a conversation about
football that I tune out as soon as humanly possible.
My mom smiles at me and pats my hand. “How are you doing, honey?” she asks, eyes roaming over my face. She’s always been able to tell when I’m lying about being okay, so I just sigh and shrug.
“I’m all right. Ready for tonight to be over.”
“I hear that. My mother really does know how to put on a spectacle, doesn’t she?”
She looks just as uncomfortable as I expected her to be, but she’s here, dressed up and celebrating with her parents, despite the fact that they don’t approve of her lifestyle and probably never will.
It has to be hard, loving parents like that, but my mom does it.
“You know, I can’t believe she actually invited him to this thing.” She nods across the room to where Chris is casually leaning on the bar, talking to the woman he brought with him and receiving the adoring stares of three other women.
“His grandparents are their friends,” I reply, trying to sound unfazed.
“And you’re her granddaughter. You should come first.”
We both know that isn’t how this works, so I don’t even bother to say anything about it. “It’s fine, Mom. I’m okay.”
For the most part, I am. I should have known that Chris would ignore me all night, and really having Ian here with me is more for my own comfort than anything else. Aside from him pretending to be my boyfriend for the night, it’s been nice to have him here, keeping me company and distracting me from feeling crappy. I don’t know how I’m going to begin to repay him.
Nana finally gets up and makes her speech, thanking everyone for coming and talking about how lucky she is to be surrounded by such kind friends and wonderful family.
“If Arnold and I have made it this far, it’s because we have always had the tremendous support and love of people like you.”
It rings a little hollow, considering there are local politicians and business owners in the room who probably know more about Nana’s wallet than her as a person, but whatever makes her feel good, I guess.
When she’s done talking, we all clap and raise a toast to them, and people get back to mingling and dancing.
Off Limits: A Brother's Best Friend Fake Relationship Romance (Fake It Book 1) Page 11
