The idea of having Dad discover what we’d been hiding through the lens of Helen and Robert sent a shudder though me. “No. I want to be there when our parents find out.”
Blake nodded. “Well, that really leaves the tail end of the party, because Mom said they were leaving the next day.”
I sighed. “Sylvia just texted me that she needs to do fittings today for the adjustments they made to the dresses we bought. I’m going to take a wild guess and say a trip to the courthouse isn’t going to be possible until Thursday, after the party. Promise me that you’ll make sure my grandparents are very, very drunk before you tell anyone.”
He smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”
I kissed him. His arms wrapped around me. It was a divine feeling. I put my cheek to his chest before I remembered where we were. What if someone had seen us?
“Jenna.” Blake’s voice stopped me from leaving. “I don’t want to just forget everything. I…” He searched for the right words, but seemed to cut off that line of thought. “How do you feel about San Francisco?”
I bit my lip. “I don’t know. Do they like books there?”
Winking, I headed for my room. The expression on Blake’s face would be burned into my memory for a long time.
* * * * *
“I think the black and silver.”
“No, the gold appliqué is much more suited to the theme.”
“Not if she’s uncomfortable wearing it! It’s so sheer!”
Sylvia and the freelance designer were arguing over which dress looked better on me. We had narrowed it down to three gowns, with the top two being the de la Renta I loved and the Murad gold one. There was photos taken and displayed across a table in front of us.. I had accessories to match each of the contenders, and to be honest, any of them would be spectacular, although I would feel the least naked in the dress I liked. However, it wasn’t clear that I even had a horse in this race, because I couldn’t tell if Sylvia had just bought the gown I wanted to humor me or whether her employer would actually consent to letting me wear it to the anniversary party. I doubted I would have this much personal attention if I were a bride. But anyone sitting at the head table was receiving similar treatment.
Not that I wasn’t already distracted. It hadn’t slipped my notice that all of the sex Blake and I had engaged in was bareback. I had assured him after the first night that I was disease-free, since I had tested negative after breaking up with Kendall, and Kendall had used condoms every time anyway. Blake actually carried his medical history with him, including test results, which I thought was not a bad idea as long as it wasn’t stolen. But that wasn’t what preoccupied the bulk of my thoughts.
Blake knew I wanted kids. I had told him as much. I had never asked him what he wanted, though, and in hindsight that seemed especially stupid. Although it was really unlikely that I could conceive after one weekend, if I were having a normal cycle, this long roll in the hay would be smack dab in the middle of it.
What if I did get pregnant and he didn’t want me to have the baby?
“Jenna, if the idea of wearing gold upsets you this much, it’s okay to pick something else,” the designer said.
There I went, showing my emotions on my face like a movie screen. “No, no, they all look fantastic,” I said. “I’m just a bit stressed about other stuff. Sorry.”
I reexamined the photos. The bias toward my favorite was all over my face, so I needed to ignore the expressions I had made when posing. “Do you have some scrap paper? And a pair of regular scissors?”
Sylvia retrieved some without saying a word, and I quickly cut out several ovals and covered my face, scotch taping them on from the top. Much better.
Even without seeing how happy I was, the subtle differences in how the dresses hung were clear. I did look very good in the Zuhair Murad dress. But my figure looked a touch more flattering in the Oscar de la Renta.
“I get that this is going to sound totally biased,” I said, “but I do think the Oscar de la Renta looks better on me. See the flare of my hips in the Murad? It’s okay, but I would prefer a more of a slimmer line, and I don’t think I can lose ten pounds in two days. The black and silver dress doesn’t show any of that.”
I looked at Sylvia expectantly. She would have preferred to pick the Murad piece because of the color. But her first and foremost job was to make me look good.
“She’s right,” Sylvia said finally. “It’s more flattering to your figure, and there’s no point in wearing something that nude if you’re the tiniest bit uncomfortable. It would just be awkward.”
“I agree.” The designer had the tact not to mention this was what she had been saying all along. Sometimes, people had to come to the same conclusions in their own ways.
I breathed a huge sigh of relief. “So we’re done?”
Sylvia smiled. “Congratulations. Everything will be delivered to your hotel room tonight.” She shook my hand, and I felt a wave of gratitude toward the stylist. She had helped Blake to give me outfits to dine out in style with and me to find the perfect dress.
Besides, if I was going to face the wrath of the in-laws, I was going to need to look like a million bucks.
5
Tuesday passed without incident, although I was annoyed Blake hadn’t called me from San Fran. Yes, it was just nerves. No, I couldn’t turn off my anxiety. I was going to have to wait to see if we would both outlive the party, and then if the relationship would outlive the legal marriage and the extremely remote possibility of a surprise baby. The only person who should have had as high blood pressure as I probably did that week was Helen Forsythe, and she was cool as a cucumber. Hired help in the dozens could apparently work wonders on one’s constitution.
My cousins had arrived by then, so the get-togethers were larger, and because of size restrictions, they took place in venues slightly below the caliber Helen and Robert were used to. They took it in stride, I think. I was just glad to see family I hadn’t been around since childhood. Even better, one of them was a hair stylist and agreed to do my hair at the hotel.
Simultaneously, every other thought of mine involved me and Blake, naked, doing things that made me neck flush and my panties wet.
I bought several bottles of champagne on Wednesday morning from a nearby liquor store. They didn’t have my favorite Boston brand, but Martini moscato d’asti was pretty darn good sparkling dessert wine, so I wasn’t going to complain. Then I found a specialty supermarket and bought a BLT to go and real peach juice.
If I was going to make it through the day, I needed me some bellinis.
* * * * *
Breathe in, breathe out. They’re staring at Grandma and Grandpa, not you.
That’s what I told myself, over and over. It didn’t seem to be working.
We were at a high table, all of the direct descendants of the next two generations, under chandeliers and spotlights, surrounded by gauze, flowers, and incredible catered food. It turned out that while Grandma Bee and Grandpa Niles hadn’t had only had two surviving children, they had spawned many friendships everywhere they went over the years. Over 150 other people were seated around us who came to celebrate their life without the ties of marriage or blood.
Everything was going perfectly. I just had to get through a short toast after dinner had started to wrap up, dance with a few people, congratulate Bee and Niles, and load up on the champagne. I was already well on my way with the drinks.
There was just one little hitch in my plan.
Blake wasn’t there.
His flight had been delayed due to bad weather. Of all of the times to thunderstorm in California, it had to be today. He had probably touched down an hour ago and was on his way to the hotel. That’s what he had said in his texts, in any case. I tried not to tap my feet.
Dinner arrived. I saw George, Blake’s friend from the Harvard Club, along with another guy I didn’t know. When I waved to George, he smiled, and to my surprise, they both climbed the stairs to say hi.
“Jenna, you look stunning. Absolutely stunning,” George said, clasping my hands and standing back to admire my outfit. “Gorgeous. Now I know why they put you on this pedestal.”
“It does feel like we’re in the presence of royalty, doesn’t it?” said the other man, smiling at me.
“Depending on which circles you move in, you might be,” I said, tilting my head behind me at where Helen and Robert had commandeered the chairs nearest my grandparents. “Though they prefer to hold court in more private venues.”
George nodded. “I want to argue the point but find that I can’t, especially not if I count any of my own experiences,” he said wryly. “Jenna, meet Dillon Fox. He works with Blake, doing bigwig stuff at Gabblrr. Dillon, meet Jenna Hill, collector and keeper of interesting and wondrous items.”
I couldn’t help laughing at that.
“So this is the mysterious Jenna,” Dillon said, shaking my hand. He was tall, slightly leaner than Blake or George, white with brown hair and brown eyes that seemed to take in everything around him. He was unremarkable, but there was definitely something that made him stand out. Whether it was charisma or a kind of thirst to take in the entire room at once that leaked out from within him, I didn’t know.
“Mysterious? How I could be mysterious to anyone who works in social media?” I asked.
George said, “You’d be surprised. Gabblrr has ‘omniscience’ listed on their goal sheet for 2020. The kinks haven’t been worked out yet, but there’s no time like the present to go off the grid.”
It was clear George was definitely a bit tipsy. I thought he was funny either way.
Dillon didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seemed interested in me, and made a point of twice bringing up the fact that Blake had spoken of me, though I had no clue why Dillon would remember or care. We engaged in small talk for a couple of minutes while I tried not to pull out my phone and text Blake. George offered to refill our drinks, and when I sat back down, Dillon occupied the seat my aunt had vacated during the first course.
“So. Jenna.” Dillon crossed his legs and turned that all-seeking gaze on me, and I fidgeted under the silk of my gown. “I was wondering if you could answer a question for me.”
“It depends on the question, I suppose, but feel free to ask.” The defensiveness wasn’t intentional. I chided myself and tried to smile.
“Fair enough.” Dillon snatched an unused glass and poured himself water out of one of the pitchers within reach. “Why is Blake planning on opening a new Gabblrr office on the East Coast?”
If ever there was a question completely out of left field, that was it. “What?”
Dillon took a sip of water and continued. “After a big conference about certain major business funding ventures on Friday, he suddenly drops off the radar for 48 hours with no word, no explanation. All of a sudden, he calls up headquarters on Monday, completely ignoring the unread emails and missed phone calls to announce plans to expand the work force to a new station either in New York or… Boston.”
I didn’t like the way he said Boston, or the direction this conversation was going. “This is news to me.”
“I find that very interesting,” Dillon said. “Especially since I know he was with you for the entire weekend.”
Stunned, I forced a blank expression onto my face. “So spying on your boss is part of your job description?”
“Protecting my boss and my friend is my job,” Dillon said. “That’s why he hired me. Think of me as the company guard dog. I predict and manage risks, advise Human Resources about security threats, and do my best to keep proprietary information secure.”
I clenched my teeth. “That still doesn’t explain what business it is of yours to invade our privacy on a family vacation.”
“Blake has two cell phones and a laptop. I know where Gabblrr property is at all times. It wasn’t difficult to find out the necessary information from the hotel or your parents. All that leaves is the reason Blake would suddenly have a rash epiphany like this in the middle of funding talks.”
“Mr. Fox,” I said coolly, “This conversation is the first time any of this has ever come up in any conversations I’ve ever had.” I noticed his long hand wrapped around his glass, fingers pressing against it with enough force that they turned red and white. “Maybe you should discuss these things with Blake, since he’s your friend.”
Dillon snorted. “I have. At least three times since Monday morning, Before I knew where he’d been, or with whom he’d been, it made no sense. Your parents don’t even live within easy driving range. Why opt to spend more time within striking distance of the Forsythes when he’s gone all of his adulthood trying to avoid them? He might have considered it once or twice in order to be closer to his mom, but the grandparents? He’s disliked them for a long while now. All of a sudden, he whisks you away to stay the weekend in a luxury hotel—”
“Presumably he wanted good security for his car, but I didn’t even know where we were going—”
“—where you two share a room—”
“Do you have any idea how much the rooms cost there?” I asked.
“—and now he’s all gung-ho about rediscovering his love of New England.”
“New York is technically part of the Mid-Atlantic. I’m guessing you missed 5th grade geography.”
“Don’t deflect, Jenna. Tell me what your agenda is. You don’t have any assets to speak of. We investigated you years ago. Updates indicate that nothing has changed except the depth of your financial problems.”
Now I was furious.
“Why?” I hissed. “I have nothing to do with your company. At all! You’re running a social networking platform, not an espionage ring!”
Dillon shrugged. “Standard procedure and risk evaluation. I would do it again. In a heartbeat.”
I suddenly understood where the paranoia during our initial meeting was coming from. Dillon and his team, whoever they were, had run a background check on me as soon as Dad and Lana had become engaged, perhaps even earlier than that. Regardless of any real security threats to their business, Dillon had played on Blake’s insecurities and Blake’s mother’s failed relationships to feed an over-abundant sense of anxiety in him when it came to Gabblrr. Blake had simply taken the ball and run with it.
“Not that I expect you to believe me, since you seem like you’re incapable of trust, but I’m not a corporate spy. I didn’t spend the weekend convincing Blake to do anything with Gabblrr, and I couldn’t care less if they opened one office or forty-three,” I snapped. “Are we done?”
“No, we’re not done.” Dillon’s voice was… amused? Intrigued? Angry? It was so hard to tell with psychos these days. “There’s another explanation for Blake’s behavior, though before we met, I had dismissed it as old office gossip from years go. But maybe…”
To my horror, he lifted his other hand and brushed a lock of hair behind my ear.
I slapped it away, but that just caused him to run it down my arm instead. “I wonder,” he mused, studying me.
He drew back. “It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I convinced him not to do something stupid tonight, even if he thought it would be for a good cause.”
He wasn’t implying what I feared. He couldn’t know. Blake wouldn’t tell him about our plans.
Would he?
I struggled to maintain my composure as Dillon rose from his chair. “Have a lovely evening, Jenna,” he said, kissing my neck. I shuddered.
Then Dillon whispered in my ear, “Stay away from him. For your own good.”
He was gone. I wanted to collapse to the floor and bury my head in blackness and just not think at all.
I was dimly aware of George approaching, bringing our drinks.
“Sorry that took so long,” he apologized. “The open bar was a hot mess. Now it looks like Dillon’s run off, too. Huh.”
I held out my hand wordlessly. George placed the champagne flute in it, and I immediately tossed back half the glass.
“Whoa, the
drinking contest’s started already?” he joked. Then he must have seen my face. “Jenna! What’s wrong? What happened?”
I looked for my napkin. If I didn’t stop the tears now, I was going to look like a raccoon. “Your friend. Dillon. He happened.”
“Dillon?” George frowned. “Guy’s a little weird, but that’s kind of par for the course in the IT security field. Did he hit on you or something?” George’s expression darkened. “Did he touch you?”
“No, no, nothing like that,” I waved my arms quickly. “No. He just…” I tried to think of an explanation, but the mere thought of trying to explain the situation to George was overwhelming.
“It’s pretty complicated and I don’t have the energy to get into it right now. The short version is that Blake and I finally mended some fences and I’m worried it’s going to compromise Blake’s position at his company, or at the very least alienate his friend, and I don’t know how to fix it.”
I was officially the Queen of Bad Explanations. He could come to that conclusion without my help.
George sat down and took my other hand in his. “Jenna,” he said, smiling,”I’m fairly drunk right now, so I may not be saying this in the best way, but it doesn’t take a security specialist to see you’re a good person. I’ve known you for what? Probably two hours total, and I knew within the first five minutes that anyone who doubts your character is a fool. As for Blake,” George insisted when I looked away, doubtful, “if it’s ever a contest between friends and family or even job and family, family comes first for him. I get that he’s wealthy enough to walk away from a dream job, but I know him well enough to tell you he would do the same thing if he were penniless. Business is business. Family is family.”
Logically and in any other context, this statement would have made me feel 100 percent better. This was the one time when I happened to be compromising my family to succeed at business and to follow my heart. “Thanks, George,” I said, squeezing his hand gratefully. “Blake’s lucky to have you as a friend.”
My Stepbrother, the Billionaire, & the Ball: Forbidden Romance (The Step Contract, Book 2) Page 4