“Have you had something to eat?”
“Yes, Dad.”
I give her a wry look, and Scarlett and Marama both giggle.
“We need to circulate,” Orson says, holding out his hand to Scarlett.
“Yes, us too,” I tell Chessie. “Are you up for it?”
To my surprise, she says, “Let’s go for it,” and takes my hand. She’s holding a glass of champagne, so I’m guessing a little Dutch courage is involved.
I half expect her to stand quietly at my side as I introduce her to my business associates, but to my surprise she throws herself into the role with gusto. Holding her hand, I take her around the room, introducing her, and she shakes hands and kisses cheeks like a pro, telling little jokes about our relationship and leaning against me as if we’ve been dating for months.
I thought it might be annoying to have someone acting as if they own me, but it doesn’t feel like that. Weirdly, it’s comforting to have her at my side. It’s as if she’s got my back, and that’s an unusual feeling for me with women. With men… yeah, I have my father and Orson and other friends and business associates to back me up, but my relationship with women has always been… difficult. I’ve always felt as if they wanted something from me, whether that was my attention, my connections, or, most likely, my money.
I don’t get that feeling with Chessie though. I suppose because she’s an old friend, I just feel comfortable with her. I know she was overwhelmed by the amount of money I gave her, and she obviously has no intention of trying to milk me for any more. All she wants to do is help me, and I’m genuinely touched by that selfless act.
She’s a little nervous when it comes to meeting my parents. I understand why, as she overheard my father’s put-down all those years ago, but I’ve told her that, to my surprise, when I told them we were getting engaged, although they were both surprised, neither of them said anything detrimental. Now, they both give her a big hug and tell her they’re sorry to hear about Joe but are glad he’s on the mend. My mother then leadsChessie away with Scarlett and Marama, saying she wants to talk weddings, which, “isn’t a conversation for men’s ears.”
“Like I wouldn’t be the one getting married too,” I grumble to Orson.
“Oh, leave them to it,” he says good naturedly. We’ve both had a few whiskies, and he’s pleasantly mellow. “Girls like weddings. They’ll have fun planning ours. Maybe we should have a joint wedding, too.” He looks genuinely pleased at the thought.
“Dude.” I frown. “I’m not actually getting married, remember?”
He blinks. “Oh. Yeah. You two look so good together. I forgot.”
I give him a wry look, convinced he’s taking the piss, but he just grabs a crab puff from a passing waiter and eats it, looking out over the crowd.
My gaze slides back to Chessie, who’s sipping her champagne as she listens to my mother waxing lyrical about invitations or dresses or something similar. Her face is a little flushed, maybe from the alcohol or the fact that it’s warm in here. Even though she’s convinced she’s not a patch on the other women here, she doesn’t understand how she stands out with her natural beauty, both in body and spirit. She has a positive outlook and a gentle nature, and it shines from her like a beacon. She might be a gardener who’s more at home in shorts and boots with her hands in the earth, but tonight she’s like a lighthouse in the center of the room, radiating grace. I can’t take my eyes off her.
“We should do the engagement announcement soon,” Orson advises. “Before we get stuck into the entertainment.”
“Yeah, probably not a bad idea.”
“Ellen’s got us a cake,” he says, naming our Event Organizer.
“Do you think we’re going to have to cut it with a sword or something?”
“Dude, we’re not in the SAS.”
“And our country can breathe easier because of that.”
He opens his mouth to reply, then stops as someone says, “Good evening.”
I turn at the sound of the woman’s voice from behind us, and my heart skips a beat. It’s Sabrina Pearce.
Her blonde hair is swept up in an elegant chignon. She’s wearing a skin-tight gown made of a shiny material that looks like liquid silver, and it’s clear that she’s not wearing any underwear beneath it. Her foundation is so pale, and her makeup so carefully painted, that she looks like a doll. She’s beautiful, but in a way that now leaves me cold.
“What are you doing here?” I snap.
“Charming.” She looks amused. “I had an invitation.”
“Wasn’t me,” Orson says when I glare at him.
It must have been one of the other Midnight Circle members who invited her. She is on the board of some charities, and she holds a high-ish position in a fashion business, so I guess someone thought she should be invited.
“I’ve heard an interesting rumor,” she says. “Someone told me there’s going to be an engagement announcement tonight.”