Ohh. Well then…
“Thank you,” I murmur. “That’s nice of you.”
His hand presses to my neck, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. His hand is warm and my pulse does a heated hop, skip, and a jump when he brushes his thumb at my tender flesh. “It’s absolutely the truth. Even if I wasn’t here, you’d have nothing to be embarrassed about. They do. Anyone who supports them does, but even then… who cares? Roman would have made you miserable and you should have seen it years ago. Isn’t that what you told me once?”
I hate it when he’s right.
I also hate he smells so good and that he’s so tall and muscular and so damn wise. “Yeah. I did. And I know that, but now that I’m here…”
“Now that you’re here, you get to show them all you’re over it. That their betrayal meant nothing to you because they mean nothing to you.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“It will be. All you have to do is follow my lead.”
“And what lead is—”
that.
I’m unable to finish my thought because Klaus’s lips press to mine. He slides his mouth over mine, tongue along my bottom lip, and I open for his unspoken request.
He kisses away my words, my thoughts, and all my common sense until my heart is racing.
And yes. It’s unfair he’s so perfect at everything, including kissing.
Can’t the man have a flaw? At least one?
“Take your time getting put back together, but don’t do it for them. Do it for you, and only if you want to. For me, I don’t think you’ve ever looked better, even with your flushed cheeks and your slightly smudged lipstick and swollen lips. Let them see how little they bother you, how easily you’ve replaced him with someone better.”
“And cockier.”
“And richer.”
Oh yes. Roman will hate knowing that.
Laughing, I say, “That’ll really feel like a punch in the balls to Roman.”
“Then let’s go get our fists ready.” He holds out his hand. “Ready?”
On second thought… who cares about looking nicely pressed for my mother and family?
I, too, prefer myself a little mussed and wrinkled. Let them see me imperfect, Klaus on my arm, and imagine how I got that way.
“Ready.”
9
Klaus
I’d spend all afternoon talking Jillian down from leaping over the proverbial ledge, but fortunately for me, kissing her seems to work better than words. She’s pliant and relaxed as we head down the stairs toward her family’s formal dining room, even though her palm is clammy against mine.
So far, the only person I’ve met and can stand is Nana, but she’s not here yet. I’m not the least bit surprised to see women dressed in formal servant wear, finishing setting the table while Claire and Stetson speak quietly across the table, ignoring their help.
“Where’s Nana?”
“She’ll be here,” Jillian says. “She likes to arrive one minute late because it irritates my mom.”
“Of course she would.” Seems to me, Nana does a lot for the sole purpose of getting under her daughter’s skin. If she wasn’t so amusing, I’d say she’s in the wrong. Hell if I can’t wait to see them in the same room together.
“Jillian.” Her mother calls her name, sitting back in her chair at the end of the table. Other than beckoning her daughter like she’s a puppy, she makes no move to welcome either of us. “Please. Come sit. Melinda and Patrice are running behind, but everything should be ready soon.”
I scan the table and smirk when I see name cards set elegantly on top of white china and most likely, genuine silver plates beneath.
“Are you kidding me?” Jillian says, yanking on my hand. Fingernails dig into the back of mine, but I don’t flinch this time. I’m getting used to Jillian’s physical abuse.
“What?”
She points to one of the cards, but her ire is firmly set on her mother. “You’ve invited Roman and Julianna?”
“Of course, dear. They’re our guests. It’d be rude not to.” She pats the corners of her mouth with a napkin and resettles it in her lap. “Besides, she’s your best friend, and Roman is practically family.”
“Yeah, she was my best friend until she started sucking face with my fiancé.”
My hand tightens around hers. It’s a warning, but I’m too late. I’ve seen this look on Jillian’s face before. Usually during a soccer match that’s tied with minutes left in the game and the team she wants to lose gets the ball.
But there’s also pain in her voice as she speaks and when I pull her more firmly to my side, her arm is starting to tremble.
“Really, Jillian. I believe it’s time to put the past in the past, isn’t it?”
Pain slices into the back of my hand and I glare at her mom. Is she truly that oblivious to the pain she causes her daughter, or does she enjoy it?
“Jillian, please. Sit. Enjoy your tea. You too, Klaus.”
I slide my gaze toward her father and see his jaw firmly set even while he’s focused on his wife.
Hm. Perhaps he has a heart behind the stone exterior he prefers to show to the world.
“Come on.” I lean down and kiss the top of Jillian’s head. “It’ll be okay. Just a tea and dinner.”
She shakes her head and says nothing, so I bend my head more until my lips brush over her ear. “We were going to kick him in the balls with how much richer I am, right? Can’t do that if we can’t show it off a little bit.”
She shivers as I speak and sighs. “Fine. But this is bullshit.”
“I agree. The whole weekend is, though, right?”
“Yeah,” she mumbles and glances at me. “Everything is one big lie this weekend, isn’t it?”
She pulls her hand out of mine and heads toward the other side of the table where our names are written in calligraphy. Tossing her name card to the side, she moves down one chair closer to her father, which means I’ll be sitting directly across from Roman instead of her.
At the small rebellion, her mother sighs.
Once we take our seats, I kiss her cheek. “Proud of you.”
She’s stiff as a board. For the first time since I’ve started kissing her, it’s like kissing an ice block instead of Jillian and I pull away, frowning.
Her words before she sat down reverberate in my head. “The whole weekend is one big lie, isn’t it.”
The hell it is.
When movement from the doorway grabs my attention, I lazily drape my arm over the back of Jillian’s chair.
Roman and Julianna enter and the first thing that strikes me is how similar she is in looks to Jillian. While Claire might have been talking business-wise with how Roman is practically family, Julianna and Jillian could be sisters with their similarities in looks, long dark hair, and height. But that’s where their similarities end. Where Jillian’s eyes shine brightly, ready for the next adventure, Julianna’s light brown eyes appear dull, almost lifeless.
Her hand is draped over Roman’s forearm as he guides her into the room, dressed like a man who needs to shove his money down other people’s throats. He changed into a suit for shit’s sake to have tea and later, a dinner, with people he’s known his entire life. Even Jillian’s father is dressed like he’s ready for a golf game.