Blame it on the Champagne (Blame it on the Alcohol 1) - Page 51

“No. We raised you better. We raised a woman who held pride in her family. This needs to stop, Verana.” His words lacked control, dripping with desperation. He needed her to give in. But would she?

“Thank you, but no thank you for the offer,” she finally answered. “I’m sticking with my position at Rush Shipping. They have great potential, and I’m excited to expand with them—with Nico. He’s a good man who will be a good husband.”

A knot I hadn’t known had tied itself around my lungs loosened.

She turned him down.

Not only did she turn him down, but she stood up for me in the process. I blinked, trying to process the influx of information—of feelings. It squeezed inside my chest, uncomfortably and foreign.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should find my fiancé.”

“Vera, it’s time you stopped your tantrum and call this charade off,” her father softly spoke between a forced smile, the façade fading away.

“I assure you, Mr. Mariano, our engagement is not a charade,” I said, finally stepping in.

His smile slipped, but the professional man he was refused to allow him to show his true emotions at such a public event.

I slipped my hand around Vera’s hip, extracting her from his grip, and tugged her to my side. Taking full advantage of the situation, I pressed my lips to her soft cheek and grazed my fingertips along her bare back.

She gasped, and a shiver down her spine chased my touch.

“You look breathtaking,” I said softly for her, but loud enough her father could hear. “I can only imagine how beautiful you’ll look on our wedding day.”

Red tinged her cheeks, and I fought against leaning in again to press my lips to the heat.

“Thank you.”

“Mr. Rush,” her father greeted stiffly.

“I’ll be your son-in-law soon. Please, call me Nicholas.”

“Well, Nicholas, was there a reason my daughter had to walk in alone? As her fiancé, shouldn’t you escort her?”

“Papa,” Vera reprimanded.

Lorenzo was fishing in an empty barrel for reasons to find me lacking. “It’s okay, Vera. I can see your father thinks you need a man to enter a room, but he doesn’t seem to realize that you are strong enough to stand on your own. You don’t need me. But I’m lucky you’ll have me.”

All my compliments were true, despite never having said them before. However, I said them easily with the benefit of annoying Lorenzo and winning Vera over more and more.

His nostrils flared at the slight, and for the first time since she entered the room, she looked to me. With wide, brown eyes, she looked at me like a mirage. As if she’d never had someone tell her she was strong enough all on her own. Curiosity and awe flickered in the depths, along with something more—something deeper I couldn’t quite decipher.

Whatever it was, it had me standing taller beside her. She matched my posture, and together, we created a united front against Lorenzo.

Victory surged—a win I hadn’t planned on gaining. One I hadn’t even considered. I had no doubt that at some point, I would take Mariano Shipping out from under Lorenzo’s feet, but to also take his daughter? That was a prize I didn’t even think to play for.

A prize that fell into my lap, and I took without thought.

“Verana,” Lorenzo growled. “This—”

“Lorenzo,” another guest greeted jovially. He approached with his hand out, a warm smile in place, completely oblivious to the tension brewing. “It’s good to see you again and at such a happy occasion.”

Lorenzo shook his hand, shifting his mood to the winning businessman he was believed to be. “Andrew, it’s good to see you. And yes, such a happy event.”

“Nicholas,” Andrew greeted. “Thank you for the invite. It’s always good to get out and see everyone outside of typical business. Laura sends her best but is home with the newborn.”

“Of course. I hope she can make it to the wedding.”

“Oh, definitely. She let me know I could stay home with the baby if we didn’t find a sitter.” He laughed and turned to Vera, clear affection in his eyes. “Verana, I can’t believe you’re getting married. I can still remember you running around at the galas, sneaking cake.”

She laughed at the shared memory. “I think I recall you stealing some with me.”

“I was a young pup, fresh from college. Cake helped ease the nerves.”

Jealousy pierced my chest.

Those should have been my memories. These should have been my acquaintances. I should have grown up among the elite in shipping at charity galas. Instead, it had been snatched from my family before we had the chance.

“I’m happy for you. Nicholas is a good man, but probably not good enough for you,” he joked, nudging me with his elbow.

Despite not having grown up with everyone, I’d made a name for myself in the past few years. I’d carved my way back in, and this time, I planned to cut Lorenzo out.

Tags: Fiona Cole Blame it on the Alcohol Romance
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