Page 95 of Most Likely to Deny Love

“You don’t have to say it.”

“I don’t care what anyone else thinks, or what they say, or even if they guess our engagement is fake. It’s Nan you have to convince. Which is ironic, because she’s by far the hardest one to fool.”

“No pressure then.”

I wanted to ask more but the car was slowing, and through the trees I caught my first glimpse of the Sullivan family home. The massive structure of timber and stone rose against the backdrop of snow-dusted pines, glass walls reflecting the alpine scenery. Smoke curled from multiple chimneys, and luxury vehicles lined the circular driveway.

The car pulled to a stop in front of the shallow steps that lead up to massive double doors. Jack dragged in a deep breath, sending me a twisted smile that made my heart ache a little, before getting out of the car. He was at my door before the driver could open it and I took his hand as he helped me out, doing my best to suppress the burst of nerves that hit me.

The front doors opened to reveal a tall man with salt and pepper hair and hazel eyes. Jack’s father, without a doubt. He stepped down the shallow stairs, his face expressionless as he held his hand out to Jack.

“Jack.”

“Dad.”

Not a talkative family, then.

“This is Mia. Mia, my father, Angus.”

Angus turned to me and it was like someone switched the charm button on. “What a pleasure it is to meet you.” His big hands wrapped around mine and he pulled me forward, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

“It’s good to meet you too. Jack has told me so much about you.”

“Has he now?”

Well, that was clearly the wrong thing to say, judging by the look he shot Jack.

“All good things, I hope.”

Barely anything, actually,but, “Of course. I’m very excited to be here. Thank you so much for including me in your Thanksgiving celebration.”

“We’re delighted.”

He did not mean that, not even a little bit. My initial impression of Angus Sullivan was that he was a salesman, through and through. Used to winning people over with his charming smile and aura of confidence. Not me, though. Something about him gave me the ick. Made me want to search his pockets for snake oil. “The feeling is mutual.”

“Let me introduce you to my wife. Victoria! Jack and Mia have arrived!” His voice was booming, like he was used to commanding everyone around him. Moments later, a slim, elegant woman with perfectly colored and styled blond hair appeared in the doorway, her cashmere wrap looking like it cost more than my monthly salary.

Victoria glided toward Jack first, her movements precise and elegant, like she’d practiced them in front of a mirror. She pressed a delicate kiss to his cheek, then immediately reachedup with manicured fingers to wipe away the perfect coral lipstick mark she’d left behind.

“You look tired, darling.” Her voice carried that particular blend of concern and criticism only mothers seem to master. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she studied his face. “Are you getting enough sleep? You know how you get when you’re overworked.”

Then she turned her attention to me, her gaze traveling from my sensible shoes all the way up to my slightly windblown hair. I could practically feel her cataloging every detail from my department store dress, my minimal makeup, to my curves that definitely didn’t fit the Sullivan family mold. For a split second, her perfectly maintained mask slipped, revealing something that looked suspiciously like disappointment.

But then it was gone, replaced by a dazzling society smile that showed off her expensive dental work but absolutely zero genuine warmth. She extended her hand, her grip cool and light when I took it.

“We’re absolutely thrilled to meet the woman who finally captured Jack’s heart.” Her tone suggested I’d somehow trapped him rather than won him over. What a colossal bitch.

“Mrs Sullivan. It’s great to meet you.”

“Call me Victoria, please.”

Her smile never faltered as she gave my arm a squeeze that felt more like a warning than a welcome.

“Quite the ring Jack’s given you,” she remarked, lifting my left hand and tilting it under the fading sunlight. “Sapphire is an... interesting choice. Most Sullivan women have traditionally worn diamonds, of course.”

Before I could respond, a clear voice called from the doorway.

An elderly woman appeared, her silver bob gleaming in the winter light. She moved with surprising vigor, even though she was relying heavily on an ornate wooden cane.

---