“That won’t—”
I cut across my fuming father. “I would never disrespect Sydney, but I’m not going to bullshit her either. This is exactly what it looks like on the surface.”
“Well, we need to rectify that then, don’t we?” Herman huffs, barely concealing his rage.
“Daddy. Don’t.” Sydney tosses her long blonde hair over her shoulders, beseeching her father with a warning look. “Let Sawyer and I work out the details. We’re both adults. We don’t need you interfering any more than you have.”
Herman’s nostrils flare and he turns puce in the face. Oh. He really didn’t like that. Instinctively, I wrap my arm around Sydney, tugging her in close.
“We are not getting into this again,” he says through clenched teeth. “Especially not here. You agreed,” he adds, in a lower tone, waving and smiling at someone over our heads. “And so did you.” He swivels his head in my direction, daring me to back out.
I hold my shoulders back and lift my chin. “I gave my word, and I won’t renege on it, but let’s keep the bullshit for the public.”
“You can start now,” he adds, casting a knowing glance at Dad.
All my muscles lock up. What fresh hell is this? “Come with me, you two,” Dad says, curling his fingers at Sydney and me.
“Make it convincing, sweet pea.” Herman leans down to kiss his daughter on the cheek.
“Dad. Please. I’m not ten years old anymore.” Sydney rolls her eyes.
“You will always be my sweet pea, pumpkin,” he replies, contradicting himself.
My parents steer us through the room, and Sydney and I smile and accept congratulations as we bypass people. Some I recognize as friends of my parents or coworkers from Techxet, and others are business associates I have met at previous events. I wave at Travis and Laurena Lauder—Jackson’s parents—as Dad swerves right, heading toward the raised dais at the back of the room. I stifle a groan as I figure out what’s going down.
Dad leads us out through a side door into a maintenance room of sorts. Extracting a box from his pants pocket, he slaps it into my hand. “You need to give that to Sydney on stage. I’ll introduce you first.”
“Is that really necessary?” I ask, removing my arm from Sydney’s waist. I run my fingers along the collar of my shirt, struggling to maintain a cool head. My shirt suddenly feels tight around my neck, pinching my skin and restricting my airflow. “Everyone already knows we are engaged. The big ‘Happy Engagement’ banners on the wall give the game away,” I drawl.
“I didn’t say propose,” Dad snaps, looking a little gray in the face. “Give Sydney the ring and kiss her. Give everyone something to talk about. Make it look real. I’m sure you can inject some passion into the proceedings.” He offers Sydney a tight smile before taking Mom’s hand. Mom looks anxious, her eyes scrunched up as she examines my face, but she’s not stopping it either. It serves as a timely reminder why I’m doing this.
“Okay. Just give us a few minutes to prepare.” I’m not going to kiss my fiancée for the first time in front of a salivating audience of pompous pricks. And I need to message Xavier. I hope I’m not already too late.
Dad steers Mom out of the room, and I release the breath I was holding. “I just need to send a message. Give me a sec,” I tell her, fingers already flying over the keypad of my phone.
We need to talk. I’ll call you when I’m free. Don’t look at social media. I’ll explain everything later.
Pocketing my phone, I refocus my attention on Sydney. My fiancée. The woman I’ll be marrying in five weeks. Fuck me. When did life get so complicated?
“I’d like to have a conversation setting out the rules and how this will work,” I explain.
“That sounds serious.” She shoots me a flirty look that rubs me the wrong way.
“You know this isn’t real, Sydney. It won’t ever be real. It’s fake. As fake as the words I’ll say when we get up on that stage.”
She folds her arms across her chest, and the movement draws attention to her ample cleavage. I’m bisexual. She’s a gorgeous woman, and my eyes are naturally drawn to her boobs, but it doesn’t mean anything other than she’s attractive and she’s got a great rack.
“You sure about that?” Amusement underscores her tone, irritating me again.
“I’m sure,” I snap, getting all up in her face. “I’m in a relationship, and this is just…duty. There will never be anything between us.”
“I wasn’t aware of that, and it’s okay. I get it.” The flirty smile slides off her face. “I’m in love with someone else.”
“We are on the same page then. We’ll put on a show. Do what we need to. But there will be nothing outside of that. I’m not interested in you as anything other than a friend.”
“I have no romantic or sexual interest in you either.”
“Good.” My shoulders relax. “That should make this easier,” I say before lowering my mouth to hers.
Sydney doesn’t protest, kissing me back with skillful lips and a tempting tongue that teases mine in short sensual strokes. I pull back quickly, not wanting it to escalate. This already feels like the worst betrayal. Guilt hammers at my heart. I know Xavier isn’t going to understand this, and I don’t know what this will mean for our relationship going forward. Whether he will agree to continue or tell me to fuck off.
But I can’t worry about that now. Clasping Sydney’s hand firmly, I thread my fingers in hers. The sooner we get this over and done with, the better. “I’m going to go all out on stage,” I warn her. “I’ll dip you down low and kiss you like crazy. You okay with that?”
“It’s not like I have a choice.” She throws my words back at me, and a smirk tugs up the corners of my mouth.
“Touché, sweet pea. Or should I call you pumpkin?”
She groans, rolling her eyes as we make our way outside just as Dad is introducing us to the assembled crowd.
“If you must give me a term of endearment, at least pick something original and not something that reminds me of my dad,” she whispers in my ear.
“Noted,” I murmur, leaning down to kiss her softly as we make our way to the stage.
I fudge my way through the awkwardness of the moment, spewing the requisite romantic words while going down on one knee and giving the ostentatious ring to Sydney. To her credit, she gives an Oscar-worthy performance, complete with fake tears. Then I grab her, dipping her low and kissing the shit out of her to the whoops and hollers of the audience.
After, we do the rounds, accepting more congratulations, until it feels like my head will explode.
Dinner is a strained affair and an exercise in fake fuckery as everyone vies to be the fakest of them all. Herman is joined by his two sons and their wives. They barely include Sydney in the conversation, and I wonder what kind of childhood she had growing up in a house full of men. Her mom died of cancer when she was five, and that must have been really tough on her. My parents laugh and joke with the Shaws as if this isn’t awkward, and when I can stand it no more, I pull Sydney out onto the dance floor.