The Worst Best Man

by Lucy Score

He shook his head. When he envisioned her here, it wasn’t in designer apparel and flawless makeup. He pictured her in sweats and bare feet, eating takeout off the coffee table. Or laying her head in his lap while they read or watched TV. Or naked and sighing in his bed.

  “Are you trying to ask what my expectations of you are?”

  She nodded, looking apprehensive.

  “Franchesca,” he reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear. “I want you to be you. I enjoy spending time with you. Not some carbon copy of every other celebutante in the borough.”

  “I can’t believe you know that word,” she joked. But she was rubbing her cheek against his palm, and he saw the nerves in her beautiful face.

  “Tonight was fun. And not just the limo. I enjoyed taking you out, showing you off, and spending time with people who are important to us both.”

  She nodded, looking wary.

  “But I also love being with you in Brooklyn. Exploring those hole-in-the-wall restaurants, sleeping in your drafty fire trap. Hanging out with your brothers. I like all that, too.”

  “You’ll still do those things even though I’ve crossed the river?”

  “Sweetheart, did you think I’d stop giving just because you started?”

  He didn’t know who was more surprised when her eyes clouded with tears. “Hey, what is it?” he asked, pulling her into his lap.

  She shook her head, curls shivering from the movement.

  “I feel awful. I want to say that I was just trying to protect myself, but I think part of me wanted to make you eat your words about all this being temporary. I wanted to prove to you that I’d be important to you.”

  “Well, mission accomplished. Franchesca, you’re very important to me. Don’t doubt that.”

  “I feel like I Aidened you.”

  He laughed softly. “I don’t know what that means.”

  “It means I know that you get off on the chase, and I made you work hard. I think I manipulated you whether I consciously meant to or not.”

  “And you think now that the chase is over I won’t be interested,” he guessed.

  “I don’t know. I just, it’s not like me to hurt someone on purpose. And I’m sorry, Aiden. I truly am. The more I get to know you, the more clear it is that you’re… great.”

  “Great?”

  She nodded, blinking back the tears. “Really great.”

  “This doesn’t have to be complicated, Franchesca.”

  She stiffened in his arms.

  “Hang on. Before you get all fired up. I mean, all in doesn’t have to be complicated. You don’t want to give up your life just to be with me, and I want you to know I wouldn’t ask you to.”

  “I don’t know if I’m going to fit in on your side of the tracks.”

  “If I tell you a secret, do you promise it goes no further than this apartment?”

  “Don’t you dare call this sublime chunk of Manhattan real estate an apartment. And yes, I promise.”

  “I don’t exactly fit in either.”

  “I call bullshit. Your family basically built this side of the tracks.”

  “Very true. My great-grandfather blackmailed and swindled his way into a bank presidency, and the Kilbourn story began there. His son, my grandfather, added to the family fortune by leaving his wife and two children for a very wealthy heiress whose father needed someone to step in and run his business. My father continued the great Kilbourn legacy by cheating his way to a business degree at Yale and then bribing admissions with a very hefty donation to accept his son with less than stellar grades and a few scrapes with his private school disciplinary committee.”

  “You? A bad boy? We’re going to need to circle back to this.”

  He smiled at her, shifting her in his lap. “I wouldn’t call the Kilbourns sociopaths. But I would say we prioritize business over all else. But in our case, family is inextricably tied to business. For my father, it was the amassing of trophies and successes. For me, it’s the hunt, the chase, the kill. Then there’s everyone else. I have friends, Chip included, who don’t actually work. Their money is managed for them, and they just live. They marry beautiful women and have beautiful families and extend the family line.”

  “But you all have money,” she reminded him.

  “Yes, but my point is, I feel like I don’t fit in. I don’t want to make small talk with someone over their new race horse or the Van Gogh they got at auction. I don’t want to compare portfolios or fuck a stable full of women. I don’t want to party like I’m a 20 year-old with my father’s black American Express card. I want to win.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Because I don’t know how to do anything else.”

  Kilbourn Holdings announces heir to the throne is dating Brooklyn student

  Five things you need to know about Aiden Kilbourn’s Brooklyn girlfriend

  Meet the Parents: Aiden Kilbourn introduces family to new girlfriend

  Chapter Forty-Four

  “This is way too Pretty Woman,” Frankie complained inside Aiden’s closet.

  “Are you calling yourself a prostitute?” he asked from the bedroom.

  Frankie pulled the dress on and studied herself in the full-length mirror. She hadn’t had time to go shopping for a gala-worthy dress… or to even find out what gala-worthy dress code was. So, it had fallen on Aiden to find her the right dress.

  It was midnight blue with elbow length lace sleeves and yards of skirt. And, of course, her size. “Am I going to freeze my ass off there tonight?” she asked.

  Aiden poked his head in the doorway and stared appreciatively at her in the mirror. “Freeze your ass off?” he repeated.

  “Yeah, like you know how some restaurants are drafty, so you dress warmer if you’re going there? Or certain offices have the heat blasting, so you make sure you can strip down and not sweat to death?”

  He laughed. “Your practicality is refreshing. I once escorted a woman who chose a dress she couldn’t actually sit in. The ride to the event was quite memorable.” He leaned back against the shelving, keeping his body ramrod straight imitating the woman’s position.

  “She did not!”

  “I swear she did. Then she smiled for the cameras for twenty minutes and complained the entire rest of the evening and refused to eat.”

  “Ugh. What’s the point of wearing something if you can’t sit down or, worse, eat in it?”

  “I promise to always pick clothes for you that allow for both.”

  “My hero. So, what do you think?” Frankie asked turning from side to side.

  Aiden came up behind her and zipped her up in the back.

  “Oh, that’s better.”

  Her waist was slimmer, her breasts were supported and the full skirt floated around her. “Damn good job, Kilbourn.”

  “Can I pick ‘em, or can I pick ‘em?”

  “Mmm, the way you’re looking at me I’m wondering if you’re not just talking about the dress.”

  He leaned in and dropped a kiss to her shoulder.

  “Isn’t this the part where you shower me with a quarter-million dollars’-worth of jewelry?” she joked.

  “As a matter of fact,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small jewelry case.

  “Get the fuck out. Don’t come near me with whatever that is. I’ll lose it or get robbed or break out in a rash. This skin isn’t used to platinum.”

  She backed into the corner of the closet warding him off with her hands.

  “You’re being ridiculous.”

  “You have expensive jewelry in that case, and it’s my right to refuse it. I’ll be a nervous wreck with something sparkly you rented for the evening.”

  He opened the case.

  “Oh,” she breathed, reaching out. “If you shut the case on my fingers, I’m going to punch you in your very sexy nose.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it. Do you like them?”

  It was a pair of cha
ndelier earrings. They weren’t dripping in diamonds but rather a rainbow of glittering gemstones.”

  “Aide, they’re beautiful.”

  He handed them over one at a time, and she slipped them into her ear lobes.

  “They’re not rented. I saw them and thought of you. Colorful. Interesting. Warm.”

  “Oh, sweet baby Jesus, Aide! Exactly how much of your money am I wearing right now?” she asked, admiring the glitter in the mirror.

  “Are we going to do this every time I buy you something?”

  “Yes. Unless it’s a candy bar or a slice of pizza or any other item under ten dollars.”

  “Then I guess we’d both better get used to this conversation. Also, those were some specific food references. Do I need to feed you before we leave?”

  “Definitely.”

  “I’ll have something sent up.” He paused in the doorway. “Or I can make you a grilled cheese.”

  She perked up. “A grilled cheese?”

  He nodded.

  “That would be perfect.”

  He turned to leave again, but she called him back.

  “Hey, Aide? Thank you.”

  He gave her that warm smile that crinkled his eyes, the one that she was starting to think he reserved just for her.

  She turned back to her reflection and took a deep breath, barely recognizing herself. Money really did buy style.

  “Who does this on a Thursday night?” she murmured to her reflection in the mirror.

  --------

  Ever since Kilbourn Holdings had released a PR statement announcing that Aiden was dating business student and small business professional Franchesca Baranski, the attention had noticeably ramped up.

  Brenda had to screen Frankie’s calls at work, and her email and social media accounts had blown up with interview and friend requests. She’d actually spotted a photographer outside her building twice, but her neighborhood wasn’t exactly friendly to lurkers. One of her neighbors had called the cops, and the problem disappeared.

  But none of it had prepared Frankie for the frenzy outside The Lighthouse at Chelsea Piers.

  There was a literal red carpet under her feet. And Aiden’s arm was wrapped around her waist, anchoring her to the spectacle of camera flashes and shouted questions.

  “Aiden, what’s your connection to Big Apple Literacy?”

  “My mother has been a long-time supporter of the cause. And our family is proud to support its educational initiatives,” Aiden answered smoothly.

  “Franchesca, who are you wearing?”

  She looked down at her dress. “I don’t know. Whoever Aiden picked out for me.”

  The crowd of photographers chuckled like she was a stand-up comedian in the middle of a routine.

  “Carolina Herrera,” Aiden filled in. “Now, if you’ll excuse us.” He towed Frankie away from the call line.

  “There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  “Am I supposed to answer them when they ask questions?” Frankie frowned.

  “You’re supposed to do whatever you want to. I’m not going to treat you like a puppet and feed you sound-bites.”

  “But you’ll tell me if there’s something I shouldn’t say?”

  “It’s always safe to avoid the word ‘fuck’ on the red carpet.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re so helpful.”

  She accepted his arm with a death grip. If she didn’t fall off of these sexy as hell icepicks and take a header into an ice sculpture or billionaire, it would be a damn miracle.

  Miraculously, they made it inside unscathed. Aiden helped her straighten her skirt for her. “Ready?”

  She looked beyond him to the crowd. At least she wasn’t underdressed.

  “Yeah, let’s do this,” she said.

  “You’re going to be great. You might even have the smallest bit of fun.”

  She didn’t believe a second of his pep talk, but Frankie appreciated it all the same.

  “Yeah, you too.”

  “And when this is all over, I’ll take you through any drive-thru you want, and we’ll eat in pajamas at home.”

  “Deal.”

  She recognized Ferris Kilbourn from his photo at Aiden’s. He skimmed in just under six feet tall, and his Irish roots showed in the red hair going silver that ringed his head. He wore a tux and seemed as comfortable in it as if he were wearing sweats. He had his arm around a skeletal platinum blonde who had brushed a little too closely to having too much work done. She was dressed in gold and decorated in diamonds.

  “My father and step-mother,” Aiden whispered in her ear as they approached.

  “Aren’t they getting a divorce?”

  “Appearances.”

  “Of course.”

  “Dad, Jacqueline,” Aiden greeted them. He offered a hug for his father and a stately kiss on the cheek to his stepmother. “This is Franchesca or Frankie if you prefer.”

  “Frankie?” Jacqueline eyed her like a wad of chewing gum someone spit on the sidewalk. “Isn’t that… cute?” Her tone made it clear she found it anything but cute.

  Frankie ignored the dig. It was hard to take offense to a woman who had been traded in on a younger, hipper model.

  Frankie offered her hand to Ferris. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “I’ve heard my son has been smiling for weeks now,” Ferris said amicably. “I assume we have you to thank for that.” Instead of shaking her hand, he lifted her knuckles to his lips.

  Oh. Okay, so this is the 1800s.

  “I’m sure there are other factors at play,” Frankie guessed.

  Aiden slid his arm around her waist. “Not at all. Ah, and this lovely woman is my mother,” he said, offering Frankie up to a lovely brunette in hunter green.

  “Cecily, Franchesca. Franchesca, Cecily.”

  Cecily was a stunning woman in her early sixties. Her face had yet to show signs of an intervention by scalpel. She was tall, regal, and lovely.

  “Franchesca. I’ve heard so much about you. May I call you Frankie?”

  If Jacqueline was the frosty Arctic air, Cecily was a Bahama breeze.

  Frankie accepted the woman’s hand and shook it.

  “And I believe you already know my half-brother,” Aiden said.

  Frankie could hear the tension in Aiden’s voice and slid her hand up under his jacket. She wouldn’t be breaking any noses this evening and embarrassing him. At least not without provocation.

  Elliot sauntered into the group, hands in his pockets and an insolent expression on his face.

  “Franchesca,” he said, running a finger down the bridge of his ever so slightly crooked nose. “So nice to see you again.”

  “Hey, Elliot. How’s the nose?”

  She felt Aiden stiffen next to her, but then he covered his laugh with a cough.

  “He broke it playing polo,” Jacqueline announced firmly. Either she was an idiot or an idiot in denial.

  Frankie wasn’t sure who started it, but soon the Kilbourns were all laughing. Not the genuine belly laugh that was contagious around her parents’ dinner table but the stifled, embarrassed “I know something you don’t know” chuckle she imagined was probably common on this side of the East River.

  The Kilbourns were a remarkably civilized lot for people who had done so much damage to each other. It seemed as though everyone knew their particular role and was secure in it.

  “And you thought my family was weird,” she whispered in Aiden’s ear.

  “Why don’t we find our way to the silent auction?” Ferris said jovially, offering an arm to both his ex-wife and his soon-to-be ex-wife.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Franchesca let Mr. Fast Feet drag her on another lap of the dance floor. The man was in his early thirties and very energetic. He also had an ulterior motive. If he said, “I think Aiden would really be interested in hearing about this investment opportunity,” one more time, she was going to stomp
on his fast feet and go find some tequila.

  “You know, I just can’t help but think Aiden would—”

  Frankie brought the dance to a halt. “Yeah, you’re not being even remotely subtle. You want to talk to Aiden about something to invest his gazillions in, go to him. Don’t go through me.”

  Fast Feet looked chagrined. “It’s a really exciting opportunity—”

  “Dude, seriously.” Frankie scanned the crowd for Aiden, and when his gaze met hers, she waved him over. “Tell him what’s in it for him and why you think he’d like… whatever it is you’re doing,” she instructed. “If he says no, I’ll buy you a drink. Just, for the love of God, stop talking to me about it.”

  Aiden arrived at her side.

  “Aiden, Mr. Uh…”

  “Finch. Robert Finch,” Fast Feet supplied.

  “Right, Finch has something he wants to talk to you about.” She winked at Aiden as she sailed in the direction of the bar. She didn’t know if tequila was classy to order at a swanky event like this.

  “What can I get for you, miss?” the bartender asked, all professional politeness.

  “Listen, I’m new here. Is there a way that I can order a shot of tequila and not have half of this crowd gossiping about me?”

  His smile warmed a few degrees. “How about I put it in a rocks glass, and you pretend it’s top shelf scotch?”

  “Sold,” she said, slapping the bar. She slid a five-dollar bill into his tip glass.

  He made a show of tossing the bottle over his shoulder and catching it behind his back. Bartender flirtations.

  Frankie watched appreciatively and hid her smile when she saw he was catching the eye of a few other ladies in the crowd. There was always someone drunk enough to screw the staff in a closet or a restroom before the end of the night at events like these.

  Frankie had been propositioned often enough at the events she worked to accept it as par for the course. Unless those propositions got a little too aggressive.

  She accepted the glass that he handed her with a flourish. Clearly a double pour. And gave him a smile and a nod as she left him to his new admirers.