He gazed at me lovingly. “I’ve never met a person as nice and caring as you.”
“That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
His lips brushed against mine in another soft kiss. Marcus held up his hand and swept me into the car in the same motion.
Once we were safely inside, he turned back to me slowly. “Having fun, Rebecca?”
“I’ve never had this much attention before,” I said.
“This is just the beginning.”
I smiled.
“You’re a great actress,” he said. “I almost believed every word you said.”
“It’s what you paid me for. I’m glad you think I’m doing a great job. Maybe one day I’ll break into Hollywood.”
Chapter 13
The gala itself was actually much more formal than I had imagined. I didn’t really have to worry about my shoes because instead of wandering around in a wide open ballroom like the party Marcus threw, everyone was seated at rounded tables. The kind of tables with far too much silverware, where the napkins were folded with such severity they could slice open your hand.
I didn’t recognize anyone in the room, yet everyone looked vaguely familiar. I assumed I’d seen them before on the cover of a magazine or in random pictures from White House correspondence dinners over the years. Whoever they were, they all seemed to know Marcus. We could hardly eat a bite of food before someone new would wander up and demand his immediate attention.
He introduced me each time as “his girlfriend, Rebecca.” By the time the night was winding to a close, I’d heard the phrase so many times I half believed it myself.
Once we’d finished with the dinner portion of the evening, the speech-making began. My eyes glassed over with instant boredom, but Marcus was hanging on every word—his eyes boring intently into each speaker. I sensed that “charity” functions like these were far more about political power plays and saber rattling than they were about the cause in question.
That is... I thought that until Marcus was called up to present his check.
His check for four million dollars.
“When I started this foundation nine years ago, I had no idea how it would blossom and thrive with the support of galas like this and the contributions of people like you. With almost one in ten people diagnosed with the condition every year, it’s vital that we use our seat of privilege to reach a helping hand to those who cannot help themselves. I thank you in advance for your generosity.”
His speech was short and concise—saying with only a few words what all the others had failed to convey through countless monologs. When he handed the check to the president of the foundation, I couldn’t help but glance around the table and feel a little proud.
That’s right, you sycophants. That’s what sincerity looks like. Soak it in.
Once he left the stage, the party began to automatically dissipate, and he wove through the crowd to take my hand. “You ready to get out of here?” he murmured.
“No, I want to hear from the Under-Secretary of Bolivia again.” I squeezed his fingers, and he glanced down with a little smile.
“Come on, I’ll take you home.”
The crowd parted like water as we made our way straight through the middle, ignoring the cameras hovering outside as we ducked into our car and sped away into the night. We didn’t say more than a word or two the entire ride back to my apartment. For whatever reason, Marcus was distracted and subdued, drumming his fingers rhythmically on his legs as he stared out the window. When we finally pulled up at the curb, he got out and opened the door for me, offering me a hand as I navigated my shoes firmly onto the pavement.
“Well, thanks again for the dress. I’ll hear from you tomorrow?”
He nodded with a distant smile, and I wondered whether or not I should hug him goodbye. There were certainly no cameras around my neck of the woods, but it was hard to know the fake dating protocol. Eventually, I just gave him a little wave and headed inside.
But suddenly, I paused. A question had been eating away at me since the woman in the dress shop had told me that Marcus was the one hosting the gala.
“Marcus?” I watched him stop and turn by the car. “Why did you pick that charity?”
There was the littlest pause. The littlest pause where his shoulders fell ever so slightly.
“My mother died of diabetes,” he said abruptly.
“I’m so sorry for your loss.”