Page 89 of Strictly Pretend

The dress comes to a cinch at her waist, then flares out to her thighs. And she’s wearing the most intricate, strappy silver heeled shoes I’ve ever seen. I’ll never figure out how to remove them, which is just fine by me.

When she finally sees me her face lights up in a way that I know is genuine. Because one thing I’ve learned about Emma Robbins this week is that she can’t lie for shit.

I think I love that about her the most.

Before she can take another step inside the room I’m striding toward her, aware that every guy’s eye is on this beautiful woman who can turn my whole body into a neanderthal with one smile.

“Hi,” I say, taking her hand and lifting it to my lips. Apparently I’m not just a neanderthal, I’m also turning into a nineteenth century gentleman. A strange combination.

“Hi.” Her voice is breathy as she takes me in. I’m wearing the same tux I wear to every wedding, but my tie and my handkerchief are blue to match her dress. I lean forward to kiss her cheek and she smells of fucking daisies.

“What time does the ceremony finish?” I murmur in her ear.

“No idea.” She smiles at me, looking confused. “Why?”

“Because I feel a trip to our private pond coming on.”

She starts to laugh, and damn if that doesn’t make me want her even more. “Turning up to the reception looking wet and bedraggled probably won’t be the best idea.”

I pout, because why wouldn’t it? “Later then?”

She kisses me softly. “Later.”

The wait staff walks through the gathered crowd, passing out mimosas as we wait to be escorted to the carts that will take us all to the wedding venue. They want us there an hour before the ceremony, which feels like a long time, but Emma will be there, which makes it easier to endure.

A cart driver walks up and checks his clipboard. “Okay, we’re looking for Marsons, party of four, Chichester, two, and Devries and Manning.”

Emma doesn’t even flinch when Will’s name is called. I like that way too much.

For the next twenty minutes cart drivers come in calling out names. I grab another drink for us both as Emma tells me about the salon Cassie’s dad had installed for this morning.

“Can you imagine having this much money?” she asks me.

“No,” I say truthfully, though I feel weird, because my family is rich. Beyond what she probably knows.

“What would you do if you were this rich?” she asks, taking a sip of her drink.

I clear my throat. “I don’t know.” I don’t think I’d change anything, truth be told. “What would you do?”

“Buy the building off you.” She grins, and for a second I have no idea what she’s talking about.

And then I remember. The building I own. The one I’m trying to throw her out of. Just the thought leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

I must look as weird as I feel, because her brows dip.

“I was just kidding. I’m sorry.” She touches my cheek and I turn to kiss her hand.

“Don’t be sorry. That’s the first thing I’d do too. Give you the building.”

“No you wouldn’t.” She shakes her head. “You’re a businessman. That’s not what businessmen do.”

Maybe not. But it’s what fiances do. It’s what good men do.

I want to be a good man. For her.

The next cart driver who walks in calls out our names, along with six others. I follow them out, Emma talking to another woman who I think she went to school with. I’m about a step behind her as I take out my phone and type out a message into the group chat I have with my brothers.

What are you all doing next week? I need you all to attend a meeting and back me up with Dad. I’ve changed my mind about the plans for the Redfern Building. – Brooks

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