Page 7 of Empty Net

I broughtoneone-night stand to a party with my parents’ stuffy friends years ago, and my mother has never let me live it down. Did he eat all the shrimp andsteal half the silverware? Yes, but still—who even uses realsilver at a dinner party anyway?

“You’re reckless, Lilah. When will you grow up and settle down with someone nice and not one of thoseboysyou run around with?”

This isn’t the first time my mother has brought up “settling down” in the last few months. She’s never once considered that I don’twantto get married.

And why should I want to? All the marriages I’ve witnessed have turned to complete shit, including hers. My parents might still legally be married, but they haven’t been husband and wife in ages.

I can only guess her sudden interest is because my younger sister, Sadie, is now off the market, having packed up her life and moved to Europe to live with some distant heir to a throne or something or other. I don’t understand the particulars of royalty and never will, but I’m happy for her nonetheless. She met Drake while traveling for work for Sinclair Properties and fell in love. I’m glad. Now she doesn’t have to be subjected to all this shit my parents are trying to pull.

I’m the sole disappointment now.

Why I won’t ever be enough for my parents, I’ll never know. Sure, I helped Auden build a billion-dollar empire, but I was still just a “glorified secretary” to them. I guess closing million-dollar deals and helping open and maintain luxury properties wasn’t good enough. They want more, my mother in particular. She wants me to become her—hosting events that have no purpose just to impress people who are going to gossip about me behind my back.

I don’t want that life, but it’s the one I was born into. My family comes from old money thanks to the investment firm my grandfather passed on to my father, and things are done a certain way to uphold our family name, like getting married and popping out an appropriate number of kids to continue the line. According to my mother, that should have happened years ago, but somehow, I managed to sidestep that conversation while working for Auden. They were too busy being angry that I chose to go to college instead of staying at home and being paradedaround for their friends to judge me. It took them six months before they spoke to me again when I first left for school, and it was honestly the most peaceful six months of my life.

Now that I’m “free” of Auden—their words, not mine—they’re back to being on me about settling down and becoming a “proper woman,” and I’m back to refusing them every step of the way. Iama proper woman. So what if I’m single? I’m happy that way.

Liar.

That little voice always at the back of my mind pipes up loud and clear.

Fine. I’m not exactly happy being single—I never have been. However, I don’t want to be tied down, either. Just because I don’t want to be alone doesn’t mean I have to get married.

Someone clears their throat, and I glance up to find none other than the Seattle Serpents’ starting goalie staring right at me with red cheeks and a drink in his hand, and I realize I’m still sucking on my thumb. Fox, the quintessential Southern gentleman and the definition of a good boy. The same guy who has made me blush far too many times by uttering words likesugarandsweetheartand evenma’am.

That last one annoys me to no end, but can I be blamed when the man looks like he does? His chestnut hair is perfectly coiffed, his jaw is lightly lined with scruff, and his brown eyes remind me of smooth milk chocolate. I let my gaze trail over the rest of him, noting how his black suit molds to his sculpted body, clinging extra tight to thighs I have no doubt could crush a watermelon with very little effort.

Fox shifts uncomfortably under my gaze, his eyes lingering on my lips, which are still closed around my thumb, and I don’t miss his rough swallow or the way his stare darkens. He shuffles again when I pop it free with a loud noise, and I like it far too much.

So, I slide my pained digit back into my mouth just because I can. Fox has mademeblush over and over. It’s only fair to return the favor, right? I might have sworn off dating, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have fun in the meantime.

Someone calls my name from across the room, and I turn to find one of the caterers waving me over. I hold up my hand, letting them know I’ll be right over. As much as I’d love to stick around and mess with Fox some more, duty calls.

He’s still staring at me when I turn back around, his cheeks stained red.

“Fox,” I say with a grin.

“Lilah,” he responds, his voice a little more gravelly than usual, which only makes me smile more.

I toss him a wink and swear his blush deepens before I swivel on my heels. I shouldn’t tease him, but it’s too fun not to. He makes it so easy.

I cross the room to fix whatever has popped up now because that seems to be exactly what today has turned into—problem after problem. First, we had an issue with a few broken tables, so I rolled up my proverbial sleeves, screwdriver in hand, and got to work. It might have been the first time I held anactualscrewdriver in my hand and not the mixed drink. Then, it was the tray of flutes being dropped and breaking all over the kitchen. It’s fine. We found more. It was a lot, but I did what I always do—I found a way to make it work.

Which is precisely what I do with our new problem—a caterer having to leave to take care of their sick child. I pivot, form a plan, and send the team back out to work. Crisis averted, I peek back into the party, the room even fuller than it was just minutes ago. The tables and centerpieces are perfectly set. The bars are stocked, and people are already waiting to grab a drink. The deejay is playing the music at a level that’s fun but still allows you to have a conversation with the person across from you.

“Get out here and stop hiding!”

Auden appears before me, dragging me out from behind the door and into the party that’s in full swing.

“This place looks incredible!” she says with a loud excited squeal. “I can’t believe you did all this.”

“Wedid all this. This is your party.”

“On paper, but you did most of the work.” I roll my eyes at her, and she slaps my arm. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, Lilah Jane. You’re just as much responsible for this as I am, even more so. Don’t diminish your efforts like that.”

“Not bad for a glorified secretary, huh?”

She groans. “Please tell me you didn’t talk to your mother today. I thought we had a rule about not answering on holidays because we know she’s going to be drinking far too much chardonnay and will probably get mouthy.”

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