Page 102 of The Temporary Fiancée
REED: That’s good to hear.
ME: Thank you again for last night. I really needed it.
REED: Of course. I’m here for you. And I’m really glad to hear about your mom.
REED: Btw—don’t forget about the party tonight! You still up for going?
He told me about this a few days ago—some shindig that’s being hosted by a friend of the family. A verywealthyfriend of the family, with whom Cecily and Lionel are both determined to maintain a good connection.
I know that Reed has to invite me in order to keep up appearances—it’ll look suspicious if he shows up to an event like this without his fiancé. But I’m still a little nervous. It’ll be our first appearance together around a crowd.
Nonetheless, I know that this is part of the contract that I agreed to. It might even be fun.
ME: Of course! Looking forward to it.
REED: Good. Because I bought you a new dress, and I can’t wait to see you in it tonight.
I try to swallow my grin, but it’s impossible. Texting Reed just has that effect on me lately. Smiling to myself, I tuck my phone back into my purse and head back toward the table.
The party is being hostedin a lavish hotel downtown, the sort of place where my family would never, in a million years, be able to stay.
The party’s hosts—the Bouquet family, the wealthy owners of a luxury car company—rented out a ballroom off the main entrance, and when Reed and I pull up in a black limousine, the lobby is filled with people in black tie.
Reed fits the part in a striking tuxedo. The dress he got me is certainly one for the occasion, too—gold, adorned with sequins. I feel like I’m walking the red carpet, and out of the corner of my eye, I think I catch a few camera flashes, too. There are paparazzi here—of course there are. They seem to be everywhere in this city.
Reed holds my hand, his grip tight, like he’s trying to anchor me to reality as we step through the glass double doors. It’s a relief. I’m so distracted that I feel like I’d get lost if I wasn’t with him.
The lobby itself is striking, but it’s nothing compared to the ballroom, which is on the hotel’s top floor. There are intricate designs around all of the high windows, thick, dark red curtains framing spectacular views of Central Park—and, beyond it, the lights of downtown.
The ceiling is painted with a beautiful mural depicting constellations, and three huge chandeliers illuminate the room,light glinting from the facets of their decorative crystals. I stare up at them for a long time as we slowly enter, my mouth open in disbelief.
Reed seems to enjoy my amazement. He smiles as we walk into the room, then holds out his arm to spin me around. I yelp, unbalanced on my heels, but he catches me before I can fall, grinning.
“You seem a little dizzy,” he says, his eyes glimmering in amusement.
“Can you blame me?” I gesture to the ceiling. “This place is incredible.”
He laughs, then shrugs. “Yeah, I guess. But you know what’s really amazing?”
“What?”
There’s a flash of heat in his gaze as he looks me up and down. “The way you look in that dress.”
I blush furiously, glancing around. Surely, Reed is saying that for the benefit of other party-goers—to keep up appearances. But there’s no one within earshot of us, and the live music from the quartet playing by the dance floor is too loud for anyone to hear him.
“Come on,” he says. “Let’s get something to drink.”
He leads me through the ballroom, past the hardwood dance floor. Already, there are a few waltzing couples taking advantage of the music.
More than a few people seem to recognize Reed as he passes by. He nods, acknowledging several greetings; obviously, this is a crowd that knows Reed well.
He gets us both flutes of champagne at the bar, then clinks the rim of his glass to mine. “To a fun night,” he says.
I’m a little nervous, noticing more than a few stares directed our way, but I sip my champagne and pretend I don’t see them.
At first, mingling with the crowd isn’t too bad. It’s almost fun, meeting new people and learning how they know Reed. There are waiters wandering through the party with hors d’oeuvres, and while I’m too nervous to eat much, they are delicious.
Unfortunately, after a little while, Reed gets pulled away by a few other men slightly older than him. They’re talking business, and I figure that it’s pointless to try to keep up—if I stick around, I’ll just end up underfoot. I don’t want to create an awkward situation between him and his colleagues, even if I do feel a little vulnerable on my own.
