Taking one from my hand, she says, “Sure they're not. I saw you earlier crossing the room with your first four glasses. Excellent trick. No one would ever imagine someone making such a pig of himself.”
“No offense, though, right?” I say, tipping back my glass and downing it. I set the glass down and hold my right hand out. “Will Banks.”
She shakes my hand even though she seems like the type of woman who's more used to men kissing her knuckles lightly. “Yes, I know who you are.”
I blush a little and get that slightly squishy feeling that comes along with being sort of famous. “Right, sorry, it's hard for me to wrap my head around people knowing who I am everywhere I go.”
“Occupational hazard, I guess,” she says with a grin.
“And what are the hazards of your occupation?” I ask.Oooh, that was pretty smooth, if I do say so myself.
She stares at me for a second, then says, “It's a bit difficult to put a finger on it, but I suppose you could say I'm in public relations.”
“I'll try not to hate you for it,” I say with a wink.
“I'm assuming there's some sort of delicious backstory to that comment. Perhaps something that requires eight glasses of champagne to forget.”
“Something like that.” I watch, thoroughly engrossed as she takes a dainty sip. “Not that I'd ever complain, because believe me, I know how lucky I am to be doing the work I do, but there are aspects of it I could do without.”
She nods, a look of understanding crossing her face that makes me want to continue the conversation. I stare at her for a moment and can’t help but feel like she’s somehow familiar. “Have we met before?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“You’d remember me,” she says with a little smile.
“Ha! Good one,” I say, having a swig of my drink. “Did you enjoy the wedding?”
“It was quite lovely.”
“Whose side are you on? The bride or the groom?”
“The groom,” she says. “He's a friend of my older brother.”
“Your brother must be quite the person. Pierce is very selective with who he allows in his inner circle.”
“Yes, you could say that.” She glances around, then looks back at me. “What about you? Are you a fan of weddings in general?”
“For other people. You?”
“Agreed. Marriage is definitely not for me.”
“So, it's a life of public relations for you, is it?”
“It's what I was born to do.”
“Well, I hope whoever you work for, they’re good to you—not all stuffy like this lot. All the wannabe royals thinking they're so very important when the truth is nobody outside this ballroom knows who they are, and if they did, they wouldn't care.”
“Or worse, theactualroyals,” she says with a knowing look.
“God, yes. What a useless existence that would be. I mean, they're not even in charge of anythingrealanymore. It's just a whole life of pomp and ceremony.”
“Pathetic, right?” she answers, rolling her eyes.
“I actually heard someone earlier saying they feel sorry for them.”
“Absurd.”
