Laurel pulled a face. ‘I appreciate the lie, but—’
‘Who’s lying?’ Dan interrupted. ‘Trust me, I’ve met most of them. And none of them could wear that dress like you do.’
She still looked unconvinced, so Dan got up from the bed and crossed over to her. ‘This,’ he said, laying a hand at the base of her back, ‘is a very nice touch.’
‘You don’t think it’s too much? Or...well, too little?’
She looked up at him with wide, dark eyes, all vulnerability and openness, and Dan thought, Damn.
This was where he got into trouble. Every time. A woman looked at him that way—as if he could answer all her questions, give her what she needed, make her world a better place—and he fell for it. He believed he could make a difference.
And then she walked off with the first real movie star to look at her twice. Every time.
Well, not this one. Laurel wasn’t his girlfriend, his crush, or his lover. She was his partner in this little game they were playing. Maybe she’d even become a friend. But that was it. She was looking for a prince, not a stand-in.
Which meant he should probably stop staring into her eyes around now.
‘It’s perfect,’ he said, stepping away. ‘Come on. We’d better get down to the bar, right? I figure you probably have work to do tonight.’
Laurel nodded, and grabbed her clutch bag from the dressing table. Then she turned back to frown at him. ‘Wait—you’re going like that?’
Arms spread wide, Dan looked down at his dark jeans, the black shirt open at the collar, and his usual boots. Admittedly, they were somewhat more casual than the suits and ties he imagined the other guys in attendance would be wearing.
‘You don’t like it?’
‘I love it.’ A smile spread across her face as she opened the door for him. ‘And not just because Melissa will hate it.’
Dan grinned back. ‘All the more reason, then.’
* * *
The bar where they were holding the welcome drinks had been decked out with decorations in cool shades of icy blue and green. Not streamers and bunting and stuff—the sort of decorations Dan remembered from other kids’ parties when he was younger. These decorations were...classy. Expensive. Yet somehow slightly over the top, as if they were trying too hard. But then, he was starting to get the feeling that that was just Melissa all over.
‘It looks like the seaside threw up in here,’ he said to a passing waiter as he grabbed a champagne flute from the tray he was carrying.
‘Very good, sir,’ the waiter said, as if his words had made sense.
Dan sighed. Laurel might have understood. Except Laurel had probably decorated the room herself, so maybe he wouldn’t mention it. Just in case.
Besides, every time he caught a glimpse of Laurel through the crowd all he saw was that honey-gold back, taunting him. It was as if her very dress was screaming, See this? You have to look at it, lie next to it all night, and never touch it. Ha!
Perhaps the dress was punishment for something—except he hadn’t even known Laurel long enough to do anything worth punishing. Unless it was more of an existential punishment. A general torture inflicted on him by the universe for past sins.
Even then, it seemed a little over the top. He hadn’t been that bad. Had he?
As if to answer the question, he caught a glimpse of a balding head through the crowd, accompanied by a shrill voice, and realised that his parents had arrived. Apparently his day was about to get worse.
Steeling himself, Dan drained his champagne as his father spotted him and beckoned him over. Of course they couldn’t possibly come to him. He had to go and report in with them. They’d travel all the way to England for Riley’s wedding—just as they’d visited him on set across the States and the rest of the world. But they’d never once visited Dan’s offices, or any film he was working on, even while they were staying with Riley in LA.
He supposed it was fair. He’d never visited their workplaces either—never made it to a lecture they’d given. Never even shown up and been the respectable son they wanted at any of their fancy events. In fact from the moment he’d realised that he’d always be second-best to Riley in their eyes he’d given up trying all together.
Why bother trying to live up to expectations he could never match, or trying to be good enough for people who not only expected more, but wanted someone completely different? He wasn’t the son they wanted, so he didn’t try to pretend otherwise. In fact, for most of his teenage years he’d gone out of his way to be the exact opposite. And during his twenties, actually.
Even marrying Cassie had been a big middle finger to his parents, who’d hated every inch of the trailer-trash-made-average actress. Of course that little act of rebellion had come back to bite him when he’d fallen in love with her, against his own better judgement. Love made you want to be good enough, something he’d spent his whole life avoiding.
When she’d left him he’d known he’d never try to be good enough for anybody else again. He was his own man and that was enough.
Even if it meant dealing with his parents’ disappointment every now and again.
He snagged another glass of champagne as he crossed the room towards them, but refrained from drinking it just yet. If the conversation went at all the way he expected he’d need it later.
‘Quite the venue our Riley has managed to get for this shindig, huh, son?’
Wendell Black smacked Dan between the shoulder blades, too hard to be casual, not hard enough to actually hurt—even if Dan wasn’t sure that hadn’t been the intention.
‘Oh, Wendell, I’m sure Melissa had the final say on the venue.’ His mother’s nose wrinkled ever so slightly. ‘Didn’t she work here once, or something?’
‘Nothing wrong with working your way all the way up,’ Wendell said. ‘It’s working your way down that’s the problem!’ He laughed—too loudly—and Dan clenched his jaw.
‘Hello, Mother, Father,’ he said, after the laughter had subsided. Just because they’d forgone basic greetings—as if it hadn’t been two years since they’d last seen each other—it didn’t mean he had to.
‘Daniel.’ His mother eyed him critically. ‘Do you really think that’s an appropriate outfit for tonight?’
‘I’m hoping that Riley will be so pleased to see me he won’t care what I’m wearing.’ It was partly true; Riley generally cared far less than his parents about appropriate attire. Probably because he just let Melissa or his stylist dress him for all events.
Dan shuddered at the very idea. The last thing he needed was someone telling him what to wear. In his experience next came what to say, then what to do, then who to be.
He was very happy being himself, thank you.
Letting his gaze roam around the room, he tried to pretend he was just taking in the occasion, even though he knew there was really only one person he was looking for. One long black dress, and dark brown hair pinned up at the nape of her neck above that bare back. How had she captivated him so quickly? Dan couldn’t help but think he wouldn’t mind taking directions from Laurel, under certain circumstances. Especially if she was telling him what clothing to take off rather than put on.
But that line of thinking was dangerous. If anyone had expectations it was Laurel. And he had no intention of trying to live up to them.
‘So, I suppo
se I should ask how the business is doing,’ his mother said, ignoring his comment about Riley, just as she always ignored anything she didn’t agree with.
‘It would be polite,’ Dan agreed. He’d scanned the whole bar and not spotted her—and she was hard to miss in that dress. Where was she?
‘Daniel,’ his mother said, warning clear in her voice.
He shouldn’t make her actually ask. That would be showing far too much interest in his disreputable industry.
How his parents managed to live with the hypocritical distinction they made between cheerleading Riley’s A-List celebrity career and looking down on his own lucrative and respected film-related business, Dan had no idea. He suspected it had something to do with column inches in the celebrity magazines his mother pretended she didn’t read.
There. There she was. Laurel stood at the bar, her posture stiff and awkward as she talked to an older couple. He squinted at them. Nobody he recognised, so probably family. In fact, probably her family. And she looked about as excited to be talking to them as he was to be stuck alone with his.
Well, now. Wasn’t that just a win-win situation for everyone in the making? He could swoop in, save Laurel from her family, then drag her over to meet his and she could at least keep him company and give him something pretty to look at while his parents put him down.
‘Sorry, Mother. If you’ll excuse me a moment, there’s someone I’d really like you to meet. I’ll be right back.’
Not waiting for an answer, Dan pushed his way through the crowd towards the bar—and Laurel. Spotting Benjamin watching him as he crossed the room, he gave Laurel’s ex a flash of smile and a small wave, just to remind him that he was Laurel’s boyfriend now. Fake or otherwise.
Then he got back to the task in hand—rescuing Laurel. He paused just a metre or two away from where she stood, hands twisting round each other in front of her belly, and took stock of her companions.
The man who Dan assumed was her father was short and stocky, with a thatch of grey hair above deep-set eyes. His suit looked expensive, but he fiddled with the cufflinks as if they were still a little unfamiliar. Dan guessed that Melissa had dressed her parents up for the occasion, the way she wanted them to be seen. See? It wasn’t even just wives who did that. Perhaps all women were just as culpable.