Page 90 of On Ice

I ignore her comment because it’s a point of contention between us. Both my parents knew, and accepted, that I was gay. My dad more grudgingly than Mama. They never openly shamed me for it, but they also made it clear what they expected of me. Despite my sexuality, they expected me to marry a woman and produce an heir. They didn’t mind if I had fun with men, so long as, ultimately, I did my duty. Despite my father’s death, that expectation hasn’t changed. My mother is happy to remind me what’s expected of me every chance she gets.

But since I’m nowhere near ready to settle down, that’s a battle for another day.

Before we even have a chance to sit down, Isabella drags Evan out onto the dance floor. He gives me an rueful smile, but he allows her to tug him after her. I feel a twinge of annoyance that she’s monopolizingmydate. However, the more Evan seems to be accepted by my family, the more people will believe our relationship is real.

I watch Evan dancing with her to a Taylor Swift song. He dances stiffly, and doesn’t appear to be enjoying the experience much. But he’s being a good sport about it, and Isabella can’t take her eyes off him. I sigh and join Marco at the end of the table. He sits with his injured leg carefully positioned out in front of his body, crutches leaning against the table.

“Boss.” His cheeks are flushed as he grins up at me, appearing a bit tipsy. “How’s it shaking?”

I take the chair beside him. “You look like you’re feeling no pain.”

“I’m definitely feeling pretty good right now.” He holds up a bottle of champagne. “I’ve had three fourths of this bottle, and it’s amazing how much better life seems.”

“Don’t over do it. I’m sure puking into a toilet is challenging with a leg cast on.”

He grimaces and sets the bottle down. “Good point.”

My gaze returns to Evan and Isabella out on the dance floor. “Didn’t Isabella bring a date?” I ask.

“Nope. Looks like she’s time sharing yours instead.” He wrinkles his brow. “I worry she’s smitten with Evan. When she stayed at my place those few days after my surgery, she talked about him constantly. She couldn’t wait to see him today.”

“I noticed. She seems to have forgotten he’s my date, not hers.” Not wanting to give away just how much it bugs me to watch Isabella hanging on Evan, I say, “But that’s fine. I don’t like to dance, and this keeps him busy while the grownups talk.”

Marco snorts a laugh. “True.”

“How’s the leg healing?” I rap my knuckles on the cast. “Did you bring a sharpie? I could sign your cast.”

He laughs. “Sorry, I don’t have one on me.”

I grab a butter knife off the table. “I guess I could carve my name into the plaster.”

He grins. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

“You’re no fun.” I smirk, setting the knife down.

The fast song ends and a slow song starts up. Evan starts to leave the dance floor, but Isabella grabs his hand and tugs him back. Then she stands on tip-toes and puts her arms around his neck. I’m unprepared for the rush of jealousy I feel as he slips his arms around her tiny waist. I’m sure he’s just being polite, but it still bugs me.

“If she’s not careful, she’s going to have people thinking she’s the one dating Evan,” I grumble.

“Yeah,” Marco agrees, looking equally perturbed. “She needs to slow down the seduction routine. People are watching them.”

I grit my teeth as Isabella laughs gayly at something Evan said. “What is she thinking flirting so much with him?”

Marco sighs. “Isabella doesn’t think. She just does what she wants.”

“That’s fine when it’s her life,” I mutter. “But she’s fucking with mine right now, and I don’t like it.”

Mama had been visiting with a friend who’d dropped by the table to say ‘hi’. But as her friend walks away, her gaze fixes on Isabella. “Is that Isabella dancing with Evan?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Marco says. “She’s putting on a real show.”

Mama frowns. “I can see that.”

The way Isabella is gazing up at Evan makes my stomach churn. I’m not sure what to do. I didn’t anticipate Isabella monopolizing Evan today. The whole point of bringing Evan was to show he’s mine. Isabella is muddying the waters by brazenly flirting with the guy who’s supposed to bemine.

When that song ends and Isabella keeps Evan on the dance floor yet again, I feel like steam might come out of my ears. I’m not sure what to do. I don’t want to run out onto the dance floor and make a fool of myself. But Isabella is behaving rudely, and people are definitely staring at them.

“Can she seriously be that obtuse?” I say.

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