Page 54 of Not As Advertised

“I’m glad it’s not just me. Why don’t they take the five-thousand-dollar-per-plate tickets and donate that money to—” I checked the program in my hand to remember the name of the charity. “—the Bay Marine Reconstruction Project instead?”

“Maybe they give the sea lions the leftovers? They’d surely enjoy the caviar,” Aiden suggested unhelpfully, still amused.

“Aiden, seriously. It’s such a waste. Now I know why Indie always rages when her parents force her to one of these things.”

He tucked my hand into the crook of his arm. I relished the reassuring warmth that radiated through his suit.

“Seriously, if you don’t laugh, you’ll cry if you think about it too hard.” Aiden sobered. “I don’t envy the number of these Jack has to attend every year. I’ll gladly play second fiddle at Appeal for a long time if it means avoiding nights like this.”

I watched his expression change from shrewd while he looked at the crowd to warm as his stare returned to meet mine. “My choice of companion, however, is unparalleled.”

Even though I outwardly rolled my eyes, his compliment sunk into some of the empty spaces inside me. It was moments like this one that had me accepting his invitation to come tonight. I could deal with any situation with Aiden by my side.

“Can we go to our table, maybe?” Six strangers for the duration of the evening sounded a hell of a lot better than the untold number out here milling around.

“Sure.” He must have read some discomfort on my face because he agreed right away. I knew he should have mingled longer, making contacts. But I could feel guilty about that later. For now, I trusted he would tell me if he needed more time.

And I was comfortable enough with Aiden that I could ask for what I needed, which was almost unheard of for me.

He led me through the large double-door entryway to the main ballroom. The high-end decor could have doubled for a celebrity wedding or an exclusive concert venue for Beyoncé. I definitely wasn’t the target market for this type of excess. Aesthetically, it was beautiful, but it was all so overwhelming. It was all I could do to read the table numbers as we passed through the room.

“Here we go.” Aiden pulled out my chair for me and then sat himself.

Conveniently, the close quarters of the table meant that Aiden’s thigh was pressed against mine under the table. I shifted so that my arm lay in the divot where our legs touched, the fingers of my hand resting on his leg. Since we were at a business event, I needed to keep my hands to myself, but I needed just a little bit of comfort to get through the rest of the night.

In return, Aiden rested his own arm on his thigh, letting the tips of our fingers touch teasingly.

If I could just take a minute to calm my jagged nerves, I might be able to tell Aiden I was ready to talk to more people.

That thought was interrupted by a voice calling my name.

“Abigail?”

Oh no.

It hadn’t occurred to me that my mother and Arthur would be here tonight. I’d been so focused on spending time with Aiden I hadn’t made the connection between tonight’s dinner and all the high-profile events my mother and stepfather attended regularly.

Nausea worked its way through my stomach and into my throat, making it hard to swallow. It was actually work not to let the bile creep up my throat.

The last thing I wanted was to be under my mother’s scrutiny in Aiden’s presence, let alone make introductions.

Bowing to social niceties, we stood to greet them.

“Hi, Mom.” I turned to face my mother. “Hi, Arthur.” I gave my stepfather, who stood dutifully beside my mother, a minimally enthusiastic wave.

Unlike my mother, Arthur had always been kind to me, if very reserved. He preferred to stay out of our mother-daughter relationship, so even after more than a decade living in his home, we were still basically strangers.

“When will that wash out?” My mother gestured to my lilac-colored hair, currently down around my shoulders. The gloves were off already, I realized.

“Excuse me, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Aiden Sullivan, VP of Appeal Media. Mr. and Ms.…?”

My mother’s critical stare morphed into a plastic expression of politeness, not having noticed Aiden standing near me, so distracting was the sin of my dyed hair she hadn’t even noticed him yet. That’s how much she disliked me dying my hair in fun colors.

“Caroline Maartan, Abigail’s mother.” My mother extended her hand to shake Aiden’s daintily.

“Arthur Maartan, Abigail’s stepfather. Nice to meet you. I was expecting to see Jack tonight.” Arthur looked at Aiden with interest. Arthur was more than just my stepfather. He was the CEO of one of the largest telecommunications companies on the West Coast. He obviously knew the players in the advertising game, both big and small, if he knew Jack Blakley.

“Right. Nice to meet you both. Jack had a conflict. I was happy to attend in his place. Abbie is my assistant.”

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