“You’re a womanizer.” It was meant to sound like a joke, but there’s a bite I can’t hide. The insult stings more than it should.
His eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
“Womanizer?” he repeats. “That’s what you think of me?”
“From what I’ve heard, you have an array of previous conquests.”
“Do you always believe rumors, Amy?” he asks, his lips thinning to a line in annoyance. “I thought you were an independent woman. Someone who came to their own conclusions.”
“I do,” I protest, “but according to Trey…” I trail off when I see his expression. He’s pissed off, and we’ve not even got to the Country Club yet. Great, tonight is going to be a blast.
“Trey has known me since we were young men. His sex life isn’t exactly vanilla either. I could tell you a few stories about him. Does he know you’re here this evening?”
I blush and twist my hands together, then shake my head.
“Why not?”
“Because he warned me off you. He told me you were bad news.”
“But you’re still here, against his advice.”
“It’s not a date,” I say simply. “I’m here so you don’t have to explain to a woman, whom I assume you’ve slept with, why you won’t sleep with her again. I’m a decoy.”
“And I don’t think I could have recruited a more stunning decoy,” he whispers, raising his hand to my cheek.
Time stops for a moment, tension pressing everywhere. Sex buzzes in the air, my skin tingling beneath his touch.
“I’m a decoy,” I repeat, snapping my gaze from his and taking a sip of my drink. He drops his hand, the coolness of losing his touch unpleasant.
“As you wish,” he says, his tone clipped. “Just get through tonight, and we won’t need to see each other again. Thank you for agreeing to do this,” he adds as an afterthought.
The rest of our journey is made in silence. We both sip our drinks, ignoring each other.
After thirty minutes, the limo slows and turns off the main road between two huge black iron gates. The driveway is lined with trees, between which are lanterns emitting a soft light. We progress slowly, and I gaze out of the windows into the darkness. I can almost make out what looks like miniature flag poles.
“What are they?” I ask, and Ivan looks up from his phone.
“It’s a golf course,” he replies. “Have you never seen a golf course?” He smirks.
“Not in the half-dark,” I mutter, annoyed at him being obtuse. “I’ve never been to a country club before.”
He sighs, holding my gaze with his. “Amy, tonight will be lots of stuck-up people wearing expensive clothes, trying to one-up each other through what they claim they have. Most of the members come from deep pockets and old money. Very few have created their own success stories—most have been born into it.”
“Like you?” I state. He’s unfazed by my comment.
“To an extent. I was lucky that my father started the business and implemented a solid foundation. But the major growth we’ve seen has been under my leadership.”
“You’re a cocky bastard,” I snipe, and he chuckles. “Do you even know what humble means?”
He shrugs. “I’ve been called a lot worse.”
The light surrounding us brightens suddenly as we pull into an open area covered in white gravel in front of the most incredible building I’ve ever seen. The limo stops at the foot of a white stone staircase, which leads up to a magnificent mansion. Our driver exits the car, then comes to open my door. I step out onto the crisp, clean stone, which crunches noisily under my shoes.
Ivan comes to my side silently and slips my arm through his. “Are you ready to win an Oscar?” he asks. I don’t respond?I can’t, too shocked by the opulence of my surroundings. He tugs on my arm, and we make our way up the stairs toward whatever the night has in store for us.
Upon reaching the top, we’re met with heavy wooden doors pinned back, allowing entry into the most exquisite house I’ve ever seen. A gentleman stands at the door, dressed in top hat and tails, handing out crystal glasses of champagne. Inside, every wall is covered in intricate wallpaper that is soft to the touch as I brush past. I glance up and see the ceiling decorated with incredible paintings depicting cherubs and scenes from Greek mythology. In the huge oval windows, heavy red drapes hang and pool onto the floor.
Men and women stand around in groups chatting animatedly, dressed to the nines. Every conceivable color and style of ballgown is in attendance today. I glance down at my second-hand dress and suddenly feel very out of place.
