The VIP Room(162)

There are another dozen introductions just like that one. I laugh. I smile. I swat men away saying things like oh, you. Blake's grip around my waist gets a little tighter with every compliment. Almost like he really is jealous.

A woman a few years older than I am storms up to us. "Blake."

He remains steel. "This is my sister, Fiona."

Fiona nods hello. "Nice to meet you. Kat, right?"

I nod. "I'm Blake's girlfriend."

Her eyebrows raise in surprise. She shakes the expression off. "Mom wants to meet your girlfriend. She said something about how she hopes you finally care about more than getting between a woman's legs."

I am under strict instructions to hold my tongue, but the anger coursing through me is so tempting. Big smile. I can play this my way. "It's funny. Our relationship started out purely sexual. But Blake is so sweet." I turn to him with my best gaga eyes. "How could I not fall in love?"

He runs his fingertips over my chin, tilting me towards him. He leans closer, closer, closer. Our lips press together.

That whole thing about butterflies in your stomach--it's fact. My entire body is light. I'm faint. Blood is rushing down. That must be it. A kiss for show is still damn hot. It's not like my body knows it's a lie.

I grab at his shoulders and kiss back harder. Pretend or not, his lips are perfect against mine.

Fiona scoffs. "Get a room."

Blake pulls back. He throws a f*ck you glance at his sister. "Where's Trey?"

She plays with her wedding ring. "A conference."

There's a sadness in her expression, like even she doesn't believe her story.

"That's a shame," Blake says. It sounds sincere.

"Mom is tired today. Put in some face time before your little speech, okay?" She asks.

"It's under control."

"I bet." She looks at me like I'm a bimbo. "Where did you two meet?"

"It was a coincidence," I say. "I bumped into him on my way out of an interview."

"Oh? You work. That must be a refreshing change, Blake," Fiona says.

Irritation flares in his expression. There's a tiny hint in his eyes. Otherwise, he's a wall of stone.

"What do you do?" Fiona asks.

"That's not your concern," Blake says.

"We're having a conversation," Fiona says.

"I'm a waitress," I say.

Fiona fights something--judgment or solidarity or something else entirely. She looks at her phone and frowns. "It was great to meet you but I need to make a call."

She makes eye contact with Blake. Something passes between them, a mystery to everyone else. I can do that kind of thing with Lizzy. It's a kind of sibling magic.

Fiona turns and leaves with a loud huff.

My heart races. Slow inhale. Can't hold my breath any longer. I unfurl my clenched fists and lock fingers with Blake. I can deal with rejection. I'm not good enough for some snooty *, fine, but that's his sister. She has some nerve treating him like that.

Blake is stone. He studies my expression. "You okay?"

I nod. I will be. I just need a minute. Something to wash the taste of that encounter from my mouth. I grab a champagne flute from a passing waiter. Funny, I don't think I've ever had champagne. It's amazing. Sweet and bubbly with a faint flavor of apples.

I take another sip.

Blake grabs my wrist. "Slow down."

He presses his palm against my back. He leads me through the crowd. Everyone waves or nods. Most take a long look at me. Judgment flares in a dozen sets of eyes--people deciding if I'm good enough for Blake, if I'm a real girlfriend or a piece of arm candy.

I keep my eyes on the wall decorations. Sleek, abstract art in gold and silver. Totally incomprehensible, just like Blake.

We make our way to a row of seats in the corner of the room. A woman is sitting quietly, nursing a glass of champagne. She's in her forties or fifties maybe; I've never been good with ages. Very thin, well-dressed, pretty but a little pale. Not typical New York there's no sun all winter pale. There's something off about her skin like she's ill or hungover or at least about to pass out.

Her eyes light up when she sees Blake. She looks me over, but it's different than the way everyone else did. There's a concern in her eyes. Affection, too.

She goes to stand. Blake cringes. It's the smallest thing, but she notices immediately.

She shakes her head. "My son has always been very protective." She turns to me. "You must be Kat."

"Yes." I struggle to meet her gaze. She has the same intensity that Blake does, like she can read my mind. "I've heard so much about you."

"Oh, you're so sweet to lie. If I know Blake, well, I doubt you've heard much about anything."

I smile. A real smile this time.

"Meryl. And, please, none of that Mrs. Sterling crap. If you insist, it's Miss. Can't have any eligible bachelors thinking I'm off the market."

I go to shake her hand, but she hugs me instead. Her head is pressed right up against my chest. Meryl is on the shorter side, and I'm wearing towering heels under my dress.

She laughs. "Ah! I see why my son likes you."

"Mom." Blake clears his throat. For a second, he sounds like a teenager complaining his parents are embarrassing him.