22
Chris
Grace tugged at the hem of her cocktail dress when I helped her out of the limo a few hours later. I offered her my arm.
“I am leaving that old woman at a nursing home first thing tomorrow,” she vowed.
I smiled down at her. “She’s just looking out for you.”
“I look like a stripper.”
I gave her an assessing look.
“No, you look too expensive to be a stripper.” Then I winked. “You’re more of a high-end escort.”
She shoved me, the motion making her almost topple over in the too-tall stilettos. I caught her and held her close to me briefly, the soft curves of her body pressing against me.
She looked amazing. The silk of the black dress gleamed in the low light from the crystal chandeliers as I escorted her into the lobby of the luxury hotel where the TechBiz event was being held.
The diamond earrings I had had her grandmother buy her glittered every time she moved her head.
“I know you probably don’t know anyone here,” I said, “but just smile and look like you’re happy to be married to me!”
Grace smiled up at me.
“Like this?” she said in a fake valley-girl accent. “I’m just here with my big important husband! I have no idea what’s going on!”
I took two glasses of champagne that a server offered.
“That’s not what I meant,” I said under my breath. “I was trying to be nice.”
“You were trying to be an asshole.”
“I know you didn’t want to come here. I assumed it was because you felt inadequate.”
She snorted and flicked her eyes up and down me.
“I’ve seen you in a towel. I’m not the one who is inadequate,” she said and strutted into the main ballroom, walked right up to Evan Harrington, whose hedge fund owned TechBiz along with a number of other magazines and real estate developments, wrapped her arm around his waist, and gave him a hug.
What the hell?
I loped over to them.
“I heard the bridezillas are out in full force this spring,” Evan was saying as Grace laughed. “I’m shocked you had time to make it.”
“Evan,” Grace said when I came to stand next to her. “This is Chris. My husband.”
Evan scowled at me. “The one who tricked you?”
“He didn’t trick her!” a plump dark-haired woman said, coming up and kissing Grace on each cheek. I thought I recognized her then remembered it was Ivy, the wedding planner forMarriage in a Minute.
“Hubba hubba, girlfriend! I like your dress, even though you didn’t pick the one I wanted.”
“Can’t go wrong with black,” Grace said. “I was just introducing Evan to Chris.”
“We’ve met before,” I said quickly.
“Have we?” Evan said, squinting at me.
