Page 48 of Arranged To Be Mine

Darcy stepped forward with a smile that almost looked genuine. “Mr. Kelly, Mr. Foresman. Thank you for making time to see us.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Tom said. “Not every day we get to meet the future of Corwin Gems.”

His eyes flicked to me, curiosity evident. Lou jumped in with the introduction.

“This is Beau Blackwell. Darcy’s boyfriend.”

The word still felt strange, even though I’d been the one to start this whole charade. But I smiled and shook hands with both men, playing the part.

“Blackwell,” Richard said, recognition dawning. “Any relation to the Hollywood Blackwells?”

“Guilty as charged. Max and Tiana are my parents.”

“Well, well.” He exchanged a look with Tom. “Quite the power couple you two make.”

Darcy’s hand found my arm, her grip just a little too tight. “We try,” she said sweetly.

The hostess led us to our table, a prime spot near the windows with a view of the city lights. We settled into our seats, Darcy beside me with the investors across from us and Lou at the head. Menus appeared, followed quickly by a sommelier who launched into an elaborate description of the wine selection.

Lou ordered something French and expensive. The investors nodded their approval. When the bottle arrived, the sommelier poured generous glasses for everyone.

I leaned toward Darcy. “I thought you didn’t like wine.”

She picked up her glass, swirling the deep red liquid. “I don’t like wearing heels either, but I don’t get a lot of choice for things like this.”

Fair enough. I watched her sniff once before she took a delicate sip. She was good at this. The performance. The mask. But I’d seen what was underneath now, and it was hard to unsee.

Lou steered things toward business, updating the investors on quarterly numbers and upcoming initiatives. Darcy engaged when called on, sharp and prepared as always, but I kept getting pulled back into our quiet sidebar. We’d start talking to the table and somehow end up talking to each other.

I stayed mostly quiet, playing the supportive boyfriend role. A hand on Darcy’s shoulder here, an admiring look there. It was a dance, and we were surprisingly good at it together.

It wasn’t even intentional. We’d just actually become something resembling friends somewhere between the karaoke machine and the bruschetta, and apparently that didn’t switch off for investor dinners.

After seeing the woman let loose, I decided my real mission tonight was to make sure she didn’t spend the whole meal miserable. I was her little ray of fun.

“So,” I said, leaning slightly toward Darcy as Lou launched into a detailed explanation of the new diamond sourcing initiative. “On a scale of one to ten, how badly do you wish you were wearing sweatpants right now?”

She kept her expression neutral, but I caught the slight quirk of her lips. “Eleven.”

“That bad?”

“I have cashmere pajamas calling my name. My feet are dying for my fluffy slippers.”

I glanced under the table at the red-soled heels. “They do look painful. But also extremely sexy, if that helps.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Pajamas, huh? I sleep in the nude.”

She choked on her wine. “Stop it.”

Lou paused in his explanation to address something Richard had asked about market projections. Once again, Lou asked Darcy another question. She pivoted and managed to give him the answer he was looking for.

When she finished, I leaned in again. “You know all that off the top of your head?”

“I live and breathe this stuff.”

“Weird.”