“Now, now. At least you’re not the worst.”
“I’m sure that really helps them sleep at night.”
The self-deprecating way he speaks of himself makes me sad.
“Does the great Declan Kane care about my family’s opinion of him?”
His eyes roll. “No. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Maybe just a little bit?” I hold my two fingers up to his face, leaving a small gap of space.
He swats my hand away. “I stopped caring about people’s opinions of me a long time ago.”
I want to ask him why. Heck, I want to ask him a hundred questions after tonight, starting with what made him stop caring about what other people think of him in the first place. But asking personal questions seems like I’m giving him unspoken permission to do the same to me.
I hold back my tongue and stay silent for the rest of the ride. Being curious about Declan would only complicate things, so I’m better off keeping some distance. Living with each other is one thing, but sharing intimate details about one another is a completely different animal. Not that he wants me to know him on a personal level anyway. He has made his stance pretty clear on the matter, and I would be stupid to think this marriage was anything but a convenience for him.
10
DECLAN
If my grandfather’s sole reason for making me get married was to drive me toward the brink of insanity, he achieved his goal. I’ve officially reached my breaking point, and it only took Iris planning a rehearsal dinner to get me there. Well, her sitting beside me in a body-hugging white gown and the crowd of people waiting inside Chicago’s best steakhouse.
“It’s not too late for me to tell Harrison to turn the car around.” I make one last-ditch effort to convince Iris against tonight’s dinner. If it were up to me, we would have gotten married in a courthouse and bypassed all of these requirements.
She picks at her pristine manicure. “It’s not like I want to go in there either.”
“Is this your attempt at making me feel better?” A thoughtful yet pointless effort.
“They say misery loves company.” She laughs, and the sound draws me toward her like a siren’s call.
My eyes drop to her mouth as I soak in her smile. Her good mood is dashed away by the parting of her lips, and I look up to see what changed. Our eyes connect, making me feel like I was struck in the chest with a lightning bolt. It must zap all my common sense too because nothing else explains me reaching out and holding onto her hand.
She sucks in a breath. “You ready?”
Whatever burst of energy I felt from our eye contact dies at her confusion. I release her hand, and she clasps hers together on her lap.
“As ready as one can be for an event like this.”
“Just remember in two days you will never have to think about throwing a party ever again.”
“A lot can happen in forty-eight hours.”
“Getting cold feet?” Her eyes light up.
“Frostbite set in about three days ago, but I’ll crawl down the aisle if I need to.”
She laughs again, and I’m hit with another surge of warmth that scares me enough to open the car door and face the lesser of two evils. Anything seems better than analyzing the weird sense of attraction I feel toward the one woman I can’t ever have.
Future wife or not, Iris is the last person I will ever make a move on. She is an integral part of my plan to become CEO, and I refuse to lose my most valuable player for something as fleeting as attraction. Nothing good could ever come out of a temporary fling, so I’m better off being on my own.
Iris and I make our way through rounds of useless conversation. Unlike our engagement party, we are driven apart by our families. There is a reason I always dragged Iris to any event I was forced to attend. Where she thrives in answering people’s questions and pretending to be interested, I struggle. Everything about tonight is pure torture. With the endless amount of small talk and my inability to get drunk at my own rehearsal dinner, I can’t get out of here soon enough.
To make matters worse, my father showed up to play his part as a doting parent. His fake smile is on full display as he works the crowds with the charm of a cult leader. It’s disgusting how many people eat out of the palm of his hand, nearly salivating at the prospect of receiving five minutes of his attention.
I find the darkest corner in the restaurant and linger in the shadows, observing my father from afar. I’m not sure how much time passes. The dull throb at the back of my head seems to have alleviated during my reprieve, and for that I am grateful.
I take a step out into the light before I’m stopped by Iris pressing her palm against my cheek. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. I knew I should have checked the dark and unseemly places first.” Her hand lingers, warming my stubbled chin as I look down at her.
“To think you know me better than anyone else.”
She laughs, and the sound seems to wash away my last bit of annoyance from tonight.
“How are you holding up?” She removes her hand, but I latch onto it and press it against my chest.
A crease appears between her eyebrows.
“People are watching,” I speak low.
She looks around, finding multiple people’s gazes homed in on us.
Her lips curve into a small smile. “No wonder you hate going out. This is exhausting.”
“Now she finally gets it,” I deadpan.
She cracks another smile in my direction. “I never understood why you hated talking to people but now I totally do. Who would want to with a family like yours?”
“If hell were a theme park, they would have lifetime passes.” My comment earns me a wheezy laugh.
“How did you survive growing up with so many social climbers?”
“Easy. If you stop being social, there is no ladder for them to climb in the first place.”
Her eyes light up. “Well, I better get back to being the cheery one. With you hiding, one of us needs to be present.”
I clasp onto her hand before she has a chance to step away. “Don’t go.”
What are you doing?
“Why not?” Her brow arches.
A reasonable question if any. Having her by my side feels like the only natural thing about tonight, fake marriage or not. She has a way of making anything tolerable.
“You make tonight somewhat more bearable.”
What happened to not needing anyone but yourself?
I’ll go back to feeling that way tomorrow. Tonight I accept I am weaker than usual, with hours of small talk pushing me past my limits.
She looks down at our joined hands with a tight expression. “What a glowing compliment.”
My thumb brushes the inside of her wrist. “Do you want to hear some more?”
“No.”
A small smile forms before I have a chance to kill it. “Why not?”
“I prefer you grumpy and predictable.”
“You can’t mean that.”
Are you flirting with her?
Fuck. Exactly how much alcohol did I drink tonight? I check my one and only glass, finding it still halfway full.
Must be a temporary lapse in judgment given the stress of the situation.