Page 24 of Wilder at Heart
That’s just… awful.Awful. My heart twists, and I pat him on the shoulder maternally.
‘I’m sure that’s not it. If your family didn’t think you were amazing, that you had lots of potential, then they wouldn’t be upset with you for squandering it. Your mum adores you, I can tell. I suspect if you gave her half the chance, she wouldn’t shut up about you. I suppose she can’t boast to her friends about threesomes’—this earns me a little smile—‘so let’s change the narrative, shall we?’
He groans and grabs my hand. Gives it a squeeze. ‘Ugh. If you say things likechange the narrativein front of Mum, she’ll have an orgasm. Seriously. She loves that shit.’
I snort. ‘So let’s give your mum a happy ending then, shall we? Ideally, in a non-sexual way.’
‘So I have to ravish you enough to make your ex jealous while not being remotely inappropriate, and also charming my parents and their business associates. And I’m driving, so I can’t even get leathered. I didn’t really think this through, did I?’
‘Hey.’ I squeeze his hand back. ‘This is a two-way deal, remember? I’m here tonight to fluff you up in front of your parents’ friends and help you carry the conversation. It’s good you’re driving, because then you won’t be tempted to get drunk and act out. And you just have to try to act like you fancy the pants off me in front of Jonathan. Then we’re done, and we can escape.’
‘Acting like I fancy the pants off you will be the easy part, sweetheart. Believe me. Look at you.’
The tone of his voice has my head jerking up to look at him. He flashes me a look that packs some heat before returning his eyes to the road. His jaw tenses as he continues.
‘Kurt, the outgoing MD for Manhattan, will be here tonight.’
‘Jesus. That’s a big deal. Does he have any say in who succeeds him?’ I can’t believe Theo didn’t mention this until now. I would have read up on the state of the Manhattan hotel industry if I’d known.
‘Yes and no. Mum and Dad will take his view on board, because he knows the market best, but it’s their decision, at the end of the day. That said, I want to keep close to this guy tonight, see what intel I can get from him. Where he sees the market going, what he thinks the job requires.’
‘Definitely.’ I sit up straighter in my seat. This is good. I need a focus for tonight that doesn’t involve obsessing over where Jonathan and Lucy are all evening and worrying about Theo kissing me. ‘Well, we have a goal then. Tell me everything you’rethinking about the Manhattan opportunity before we get there. We’re going to charm his pants off, you and me.’
The barthe Montagues have hired for this event is still pretty empty when Theo and I show up, his arm slung around my bare shoulders for good measure (never let it be said we’re not committed to this ruse). So I spot him immediately.
Jonathan.
And he’s alone. My eyes do a swift scan of the room, but I can’t see Lucy. Maybe she’s just in the loo. I’m not sure whether to say hi to Jonathan or hide against Theo’s firm chest, but the decision is taken out of my hands when he clocks me and makes a beeline for us.
‘Oh, shit.’ I freeze, and Theo rubs my upper arm, dipping his head to whisper in my ear.
‘You can do it. This is the precise reason we’re doing this, remember? He saw us arrive together—this isgood. Go knock him dead.’
Jonathan’s steps slow as he approaches, like he’s having second thoughts. He looks from me to Theo and back again, and the sensation of having thrown him off balance even the tiniest bit is like a warm glow.
‘Hey, Holmes.’ Theo releases my shoulder so he can give Jonathan a shake that looks slightly more manly than necessary.
‘Montague.’ Jonathan says the name on an exhale before turning to me. ‘Hi, Nor.’
Before he can close the gap between us and kiss me, Theo pulls me back in and kisses my temple. ‘I’ll grab us some drinks.’ He slaps me on the bum—hello, gratuitous gesture?—beforeturning on his heels and heading for the bar. Jonathan stares at his retreating form before visibly shaking himself and catching my eye. We both laugh nervously as he puts a hand gently, respectfully, on my shoulder and kisses me on both cheeks.
Yep. The double kiss coming from the love of my life feels just as shitty as it did at the engagement party.
‘So, how are you?’ I ask at the same time as he says, ‘You look lovely.’
Ugh. Kill me now.
‘Thanks. How are things?’
Yes, my personality has deserted me. I’m too busyfeelingto be able to speak. Too flooded with emotion, with memories, as the scent of him washes over me and my eyes soak up the vision that is his dear, handsome, familiar face. His is a classical British look, with his fair hair and skin, high cheekbones and aquiline nose. Not like Mr Mafia behind me. Jonathan is my home. My safe place. He was supposed to be my future.
He breaks my train of thought. ‘Yeah, all good, thanks. I haven’t got myself fired yet, so that’s something.’
I laugh politely. ‘So you’re enjoying it?’
‘Very much. They’re a good bunch, the Montagues. Most of them, anyway.’
He frowns, and I suppress a desire to snigger. No prizes for guessing which Montague he’s excluding from his compliment.
