Page 51 of Marrying the Billionaire

“It’s so stupid,” she mutters.

“Not if it’s making you act like this.”

“It’s my mom and my… ex.”

My brows raise. “Together?”

“No, not together. But standing near each other.” She holds a palm against her stomach, her nails digging into her dress. “I don’t want to speak to either of them.”

Her ex I can understand, but her mother? “Okay, where are they?”

“By the front table,” she says, turning away. “The one with that trip to Paris.”

I make a show of appearing to casually glance around, my eyes locking on a tall, willowy blonde who looks to be in her early fifties. The resemblance is too similar to mistake her for anyone else. She’s on the arm of a man with a thick head of silver hair who’s very clearly not Greg Montague.

“Who’s that she’s with?”

She glances down, picking at her nails. “Her husband.”

Interesting choice of words. So she doesn’t consider him her step-father? Wait. “She wasn’t at the wedding, was she?”

“No.”

There’s a clear finality in her tone, and I make a mental note to talk to her later about it. If she’s estranged from her mother, I need to know in case someone brings her up.

I search next for who this ex could be, but there’s no one else around them. “I don’t see anyone-”

“Serena. How are you?”

She looks over my shoulder and steps in close to me, almost like she’s seeking my protection. “Fine.”

I turn, discovering a familiar face. “Parker.” I just saw him the other week at Gabriel’s bachelor party going wild for the girls on the stage.

He shakes my hand, giving us an easy smile. “Congratulations on the wedding. Craziest one I’ve ever been to.”

That’s right, he was there. His dad is a member of the Metropolitan Club along with my own. “Thanks.”

Next to me, Serena is silent, that bored expression back on her face from when we walked in.

“You bid on anything good?”

“A few things. Nothing too important.”

She shrinks further into my side, and that’s when it dawns on me. Parker is the ex. I didn’t realize I would actually know him. I went to high school with the guy. Well, I guess she did too. I keep forgetting she remembers me from back then.

But if she’s uncomfortable around him, we’re not staying. “If you’ll excuse us, I just saw someone we need to speak with.”

His brows lift faintly as he watches us walk off. “Another time then.”

Yeah, I don’t think so.

“That was him, right?” I whisper as we cross the room, avoiding the area her mother’s in.

“Yes.” Her hand finds mine, gripping it firmly, and I squeeze it back, a secret part of me reveling in being the strength she draws from.

I lead her out of the ballroom and into the hallway, plenty of people still mingling about. Too public.

We keep going till there’s an offshoot corridor, and I pull her down it, turning to face her once we come to a stop. “Are you okay?”

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