by Nadia Lee
She’s probably dead tired from all that shopping—Josephine can be quite a drill sergeant—and she’s pregnant on top of that.
Reining in my baser needs, I tuck her against my body tightly and watch over her as she sleeps.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Paige
When I open my eyes, I’m in the movie room alone, and it’s already eight according to the clock on the wall opposite of the screen. My cheeks flame as I remembered what happened last night, but I don’t regret it. A sense of wellbeing courses through me. I enjoyed making Ryder come. He’s glorious when he lets go, his powerful throat bent, tendons stark on his gorgeously tanned skin.
Just thinking about it makes me squirm, my private parts going all tingly and needy again. I get up and see a single calla lily on the table. A smile splits my face as I bury my nose in the flower and inhale.
I throw on my shirt and stand up. I want to spend the rest of the day lazing around, but I can’t. My mood wavers a bit as I think about the day’s agenda.
Today is Friday. The Day of Shoes. Apparently, the twenty pairs we bought on Wednesday aren’t enough. Josephine tells me as much immediately after breakfast, even as she drags me out to go get some more.
Don’t get me wrong, I love shoes. But spending Ryder’s money bothers me. I would’ve preferred that I pay for all these news things…except I can’t afford to blow seventy thousand dollars on shoes.
“Do they solve world hunger and create peace among all mankind? Sheesh.” I ask as Josephine hands over Ryder’s credit card to the sales people.
“They make you look hot. What more do you want from shoes?”
“I already look hot enough,” I grumble, gesturing at my raspberry colored strapless dress and matching sandals.
Josephine holds up a finger. “One can never have enough hot shoes.”
She instructs the salespeople to deliver. Outside the store, she gives me a quick hug. “It was my pleasure, Paige. You’re going to look fabulous. If you have any questions about how to coordinate things, just call. That’s what I’m here for.”
“What’s your hourly rate?” I joke, hugging her back.
She laughs. “Your wonderful, incredibly handsome fiancé already paid me a retainer.” She goes to her car, waving bye-bye.
I climb into the Mercedes. To all appearances, Ryder is a wonderful catch. But I never realized being his fake fiancée would be this mentally draining.
I underestimated the true significance of what I was agreeing to do.
Too late to back out though. Not only would it be embarrassing to all involved, I want my baby taken care of.
And I also want Ryder to get his grandfather’s painting. I know Julian only cares about controlling him.
The paparazzi and “reporters” no longer surround the compound. Ryder hired additional security personnel to get rid of them, and it appears they have.
I park the Mercedes in the garage and climb out. I want to kick off my shoes and just veg for the rest of the evening. Let my achy pelvic joints and back rest. Maybe watch something in the movie room. The memory of what we did there last night heats my blood. I won’t mind an encore at all.
I open the door to the house.
“Surprise!”
My eyes widen as Mom and Simon rush forward and hug me one after another. I spot Bethany and Oliver in their work clothes behind my parents. And Ryder is standing off to the side.
I blink. I have to be dreaming. Except the hugs are too solid to be a figment of my imagination.
Mom’s a slight woman, but she can hug like an overly maternal python. It’s the kind of hug that lets you know everything’s going to be okay because she loves you. Mom’s in her best dress—the blue silk one I bought for her birthday last year. It deepens her eyes and gives her a regal air. She’s pulled her graying hair into a French twist, and light makeup livens her face, highlighting her small nose and pretty mouth—the same features she gave me.
Simon’s hug, on the other hand, is what you’d call a bear hug. He’s a big man, and he just engulfs you. There are a few extra gray streaks in his dark brown hair compared to when I last saw him, but his eyes are still as warm as roasted chestnuts in winter. He’s put on a red polo shirt and khakis for the occasion.
“What are you doing here?” I stammer.
“Ryder flew us in,” Mom says. “Isn’t he the sweetest?”
“Yes, he is.” And I asked him to not involve my parents until later. I give him a meaningful look over Simon’s shoulder, but he merely beams at me.
Although I’d like to think that I’m immune to his smiles, I’m not. It’s hard to stay upset with him when that dimple pops on his cheek, and his face lights up with his trademark boyish grin. And blast the man, he knows it.
He dressed much the same as Simon—a pale blue polo shirt and slacks. Given that he doesn’t usually wear such formal stuff at home, I’m sure somebody texted him what Simon was wearing so he could make everyone feel comfortable. Ryder can be surprisingly thoughtful at times.
Mom continues, “I’m so glad we’re going to have a chance to get to know him a little better.”
“It’s indeed very lovely,” I say.
Simon clears his throat. “You look great, Paige,” he says. “I can’t believe it. My baby girl, all grown up.”
Tension creeps into my muscles. This isn’t a real wedding, but Mom and Simon are getting emotional over it. I feel awful, but manage a lame smile. “I’ve been grown up for a while now, Simon.”
“You’ll always be my little girl, Paige.” He pats my shoulder. “This is what you really want, right?”
“Of course.”
I bury my face in his chest as I hug him again and nod. I don’t think I can lie to him convincingly. Simon can always tell if I’m not being honest. Must be all those years of dealing with sneaky teenagers.
“Well, then, that’s all that matters. You’re a smart girl. I’m sure you know what you’re doing.”
Then it’s time to hug Bethany and Oliver. I ask her, “Why didn’t you tell me at the lunch yesterday?”
“Ryder wanted to keep it secret. It’s supposed to be a surprise.” She grins.
“My land, I hope I’m not late.”
I stiffen at the voice. It can’t be…but it is.
I turn and see Geraldine, gorgeous in a royal blue cocktail dress. Her shiny black hair is in a fancy updo, and chandelier earrings dangle from her ears. She looks like she’s in her mid-thirties, not the mother of three fully grown children.
“Ms. Pryce,” I say.
She purses her mouth. “Don’t be so formal, my dear. You’re practically my daughter.” She comes over and hugs me lightly to avoid wrinkling her dress and gives me an air kiss on each of my cheeks. “You should call me Mom. If that feels too casual, then Mother will do nicely.”
My jaw drops before I can recover. She’s never talked to me like that in all my years working for Ryder.
I cut my eyes at him and give him a look that says, Your mother?
He flicks his gaze toward my parents.
Of course. That makes sense. Ryder would never invite his mother on his own, but my parents want to see the kind of family I’m marrying into.
Geraldine’s gaze moves to each of my relatives in turn, cataloguing everything. Even though my family’s done their best, their clothes will never be as high quality as hers, and they’ll never look like they come from old money.
Her face is set in an arrogant mask, and it pisses me off that she’s judging them…especially in Ryder’s own home, when he wouldn’t dream of being such an obnoxious snob.
A few moments ago I wasn’t sure if I was going to enjoy myself. Not when I’m going to have to deceive my family. But now I’m determined to have a great time—and make sure my family does, too.
Geraldine Pryce is not going to ruin this.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ryder
The determined set of Paige’s jaw does not bode well. Mom
is aware of how her little inspection must look, but she doesn’t seem to care that she’s being rude to my guests. And all that “mother” stuff…of course she doesn’t mean it.
Her whole show is humiliating, and I start to get pissed off. Meanwhile, the weight of Simon’s gaze comes to rest squarely on me. Paige’s stepfather studies me with disapproving eyes, probably wondering what the hell is going on.
“Dinner is served,” Sue announces. She’s dressed in a uniform that makes her look like she’s from a Victorian movie.
I clasp my hands together and force a smile. “Let’s all move to the dining room. The chef has outdone herself, or so I was told earlier.”
“Aren’t we waiting for your father?” Paige’s mom Maggie asks.
“Unfortunately he couldn’t make it.” As good of an actor as I am, it’s hard to fake disappointment, especially when Paige is looking at me like I’m speaking in tongues. “He lives in Virginia. It’s a bit too far for an impromptu visit.”
Just as I finish speaking, somebody’s at the door. Mom smiles serenely. “That must be Julian.”
Sure enough, a few moments later the housekeeper leads not just Dad but Wife Number Six toward us. Dad’s in a dark bespoke suit with a white dress shirt. Number Six is fashionable in a bright magenta Dior dress and a Louis Vuitton bag in her manicured hand. Her dark curls tumble around her shoulders, and she clings to Dad like a squid.
Incredible. “How did you get here so fast?” I didn’t text him until three.
“I was in Vegas,” he says smoothly. “And of course, I didn’t want to miss a chance to meet your intended and her family.” His voice lacks warmth and betrays very little.
He offers his hand to Paige and her family. Unlike Mom, he doesn’t fake cordiality. He merely shakes hands and introduces Wife Number Six. “This is my wife, Tiffany.”
Number Six beams like she’s competing for the title of Miss Universe. Paige’s family all say hello, but it’s obvious they’re a bit surprised and uncomfortable. It’s in the way Maggie and Simon glance at each other, and Bethany and her husband sort of move back, trying to blend in with the furniture.
The corner of Mom’s mouth rises. “Tiffany. What a lovely name.” Her voice is so sweet I feel nauseated.
“Thank you. I love your name too. Gerry, right?” Number Six says.
Mom’s gaze cuts like a surgery laser. It’s a miracle that the airhead doesn’t fall bleeding to the floor. “Geraldine.”
The younger woman flinches. “Sorry. Geraldine.”
Dad flushes, but he says nothing. He knows Wife Number Six is no match for Mom, who’s been trained from birth to put people in their proper place. Besides, defending his wife will only cause a scene and draw more blood—from him and Number Six.
Paige clears her throat. “Why don’t we all move to the dining room?”
Thankfully nobody argues, and we can eat.
Well. Attempt to eat.
The formal table is long and dark, made of teak or something like that. I don’t remember exactly, since I gave my interior decorator a blank check and then left everything to her. Lights blaze from the three chandeliers and the tableware gleams; gilded china, crystal wine glasses and silver utensils polished within an inch of their lives. The thick white cotton napkins are folded just so into cool origami shapes, and the centerpiece features red and pink carnations and baby’s breath. The walls have murals of Provence over the four seasons that I commissioned a few years back. The artist is a temperamental asshole who disdains money as much as he craves it, but I liked what I saw in his gallery, which meant I had to have his art in my home.
Everyone sits down, and a cold cucumber soup is served.
Wife Number Six looks at Bethany and her husband. “So,” she says perkily. “Did you just recently get married?”
“Three years,” Oliver says with a smile.
“That’s a long time. Don’t you get bored with shopping all day while your husband works?”
Paige and Maggie sputter. Simon hands Maggie a glass of water, and I rub Paige’s back.
“I’m not at all bored. I have a fulfilling career, and soon we’re going to have a child.” Bethany reaches over and squeezes Oliver’s hand.
“Congratulations.” I make a mental note to send some nice baby things to them later. I hold Paige’s hand, making sure everyone can see what I’m doing. “We’re hoping to have one soon also,” I say, laying the groundwork for Paige’s pregnancy. We’re going to have to announce that sometime soon after we’re married, depending on how early she shows. “I’d like at least two children.”
Mom chokes on her soup.
“Is it wise to get pregnant yourself?” Number Six says.
Maggie blinks. “Um… How else would you get pregnant?”
“A surrogate, of course. You know, just pay somebody else to carry your baby so you don’t have to. It’s a perfect solution.” Number Six turns to Paige. “You should think about it. Everyone gains weight during pregnancy, and it’s soooo hard to lose it afterwards.” She frowns then leans closer like she’s about to hand over the Key to Life. “Much harder than regular weight.”
The dining room plunges into dead silence. Even Mom stops coughing.
Red blotches Paige’s cheeks. My hand tight around the spoon, I scan the crowd, taking in their reactions in a flash.
Mom’s eyes are round, which would be almost comical if Julian’s little trophy bitch hadn’t insulted Paige. His expression stony, Dad reaches for wine, while Maggie, Bethany and Oliver glare at Wife Number Six. Simon is watching me and Paige with speculative eyes.
Hot fury sears through me. The only thing keeping me from knocking Number Six’s perfect teeth out is the fact that I have a penis and she doesn’t.
I turn my gaze to Dad’s latest Barbie. “In case you aren’t aware, I’m very much in love with my fiancée. I hate the idea that even an ounce of her would vanish from this world to suit some bimbo’s idea of ‘beauty.’ So no. I don’t think she should ever worry about pregnancy weight. Maybe guys who don’t love their women as much as I love her would be bothered by such a trivial thing, but I’ll love and honor her more for giving me the most perfect child any man could ever ask for.”
Number Six’s mouth opens and closes, then opens again. It’s all I can do not to grab a baguette and make her choke on it.
My tone takes on a nasty edge. “Just so we’re clear”—I let my gaze sweep over the guests meaningfully—“Paige and I are engaged. About to become family. Any insult to her is a direct insult to me. She may be sweet and forgiving, but I’m not.” I let my eyes rest on Number Six’s face, which is Ferrari red at the moment.
Good.
Her throat works as she swallows. “I didn’t mean it that way. I was just worried—”
“Then worry with your mouth shut.” I twist my lips into a cruel line. I can’t hate my father and Number Six more than I do at this moment. If he absolutely has to get a new wife so frequently, can’t he at least pick somebody with more than one brain cell? “I’ll personally destroy anyone who upsets Paige, even if it happens to be my father’s sixth—or is it seventh? So hard to keep track—wife.”
Paige squeezes my hand. “It’s all right.”
Her small voice makes me even angrier. This whole damn dinner’s supposed to be about me getting to know her family and her being happy that she got to spend time with them. But no, my fucking family has to ruin it.
If I were a woman, I would run like hell the other way if I had to marry into a family as fucked up as mine.
“No, it isn’t,” I say. “You are the love of my life. As we like to say in our own family, don’t let anything excuse others’ poor breeding.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Mom says, picking up her wine glass.
The muscles in Dad’s jaw flex, and Number Six looks down in her lap, her eyes cloudy with confusion.
Since I can’t actually punch her, I signal for scotch.
* * *
Paige
Ryder shouldn’t have said those things like we are crazily in love.
It was too sweet, and it made my heart flutter like this whole farce is real rather than make-believe—a means to an end for both of us.
Julian’s wife behaves for the rest of the dinner. Mom and Simon look at Ryder and me thoughtfully. When their gazes find me, I duck my head and focus on my food.
What Ryder said is romantic and lovely, but I’m not as good an actor as he is. I can’t lie about our circumstances convincingly, at least not to Mom and Simon, who seem to see through everything.
Except for the initial inspection of my family, Geraldine is the epitome of graciousness, probably to contrast herself with the social ineptitude of Julian’s sixth wife. After the dinner and drink, Bethany and Oliver take their leave, saying they have a long drive home. Ryder shakes their hands then turn to his parents. “Same for you too. Time to go.”
Geraldine turns to Mom and Simon. “What hotel are you staying at?”
“They’re staying at the guest house,” Ryder says.
“A guest house? Oh, that sounds fun!” Julian’s wife turns to Ryder with the pleading face of a puppy at a dinner table. “I always wanted to spend the night in a grand Hollywood mansion.”
Julian rolls his eyes. “It’s no grander than our home in Virginia.”
“Indeed. Besides, I only have one guest house, and it’s taken.” Ryder smiles at her, all teeth. “I’m sure you’ll be happy with whatever suite Dad’s booked for the night.”
Julian pats Ryder’s shoulder. “I’m glad to see that you took my advice seriously. I would’ve been horrified if you were marrying someone as shallow and pointless as Lauren.”
I suck in my breath at the name, remembering how Ryder reacted before. His body tenses, and he glares at his father with barely concealed venom.
“A woman as poisonous as her has no place in our family,” Julian murmurs, going on as though he hasn’t noticed Ryder’s reaction. “It’d be a shame if Paige burned down the mansion in her…sleep.”