She’s openly flirting with Ivan, and every so often her manicured hand drifts to his arm. Her laugh, a little too bright, draws eyes from all around. A fiery sensation twists and turns in my gut. It’s sharp and unwanted. I don’t like it.
And clearly, neither does he, considering he just told her we were dating and slid his arm around my waist.
“What’s going on?” I ask as she bids us farewell and totters away.
“Shhh…the woman has ears like a bat. Keep your voice down until we can’t see her.” He glances at me and smirks. She turns to give us a small wave, and he leans in and pecks me on the lips. Her face contorts instantly, the smile vanishing mid-wave.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I hiss when she turns away.
“Kissing you. What does it look like?” he replies. “And I don’t know about you, but it felt pretty good.”
“Dream on,” I mutter. His eyebrows draw together, his playful expression tightening to a frown.
“Listen, Amy,” he says, “I know we’ve not always got on.”
“I think that may be the understatement of the century.”
“Okay, we’ve openly hated each other. But if I don’t turn up at that ball on Saturday night with you on my arm, that woman will smell a rat. She’ll hunt me down and demand an explanation. That is a situation I want to avoid.”
“Why?” I say, snarky. “Couldn’t you just fuck her into submission? She was practically drooling over you.”
“Did that bother you?” he asks, the side of his mouth lifting into that infuriating, confident half-smile.
“No,” I snap a little too quickly.
He grins wider. “Then help me out.”
“Not a chance. Find someone else to play pretend girlfriend. I’m sure you have a queue.”
“I’m asking you,” he insists. His voice lowers, the first hint of frustration bleeding through. It’s satisfying. “You’re the one she’ll believe.”
“That’s not my problem.” I fold my arms. “You made this mess; it’s up to you to dig yourself out.”
“Please, Amy. One night only. Endure a few hours of champagne, pretend to be my date. Then, after, you can dump me spectacularly. If that would make you happy?”
I arch an eyebrow. “I would enjoy humiliating you.”
“I have no doubt you’d be good at it too.” His lips twitch.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of notes. “Go get yourself something to wear. It’s black tie.”
My skin prickles. The gesture feels like charity, not an agreement. I’d rather be dead in a box than let him buy me a dress. If I go to this ball, it will be under my own steam.
“I don’t need your money,” I say.
“I didn’t say you did. I’m asking you to do me a favor. At least let me…” He holds the notes toward me, and I bat his hand away.
“No, I’ll wear my own damn dress.”
He hesitates, jaw tight, then nods once. “Fine. Please come.”
“I’ll think about it,” I tell him, staring a little too long.
“Please.” He tries again, but he knows he has me beat.
I sigh. “Alright. Just once. For show.”
Something flickers in his eyes, relief maybe. But it’s gone before I can be sure. “Thank you,” he says.
