Faking Ms. Right (Dirty Martini Running Club #1)(11)

I didn’t trust many people, to be honest. Not with anything.

Trusting others got you into trouble. People always had ulterior motives. My money and influence made me a target. It was tough, sometimes, feeling like I had to go it alone. But I didn’t see any alternatives.

My mother had taught me that. Hammered the lesson into my head more times than I could count. Then she’d demonstrated it by having an affair and leaving my dad. He’d trusted her, and look where it had gotten him. My mother was wealthy in her own right, but she’d still taken my father for as much as she could, even though it had been her infidelity that had ended their marriage. She was a lawyer, through and through. My dad’s trust in her had almost been his downfall.

But despite trusting too easily, my dad was a survivor—smart as hell, and persistent. He’d bounced back just fine.

“Well, hello.”

That sultry voice with its slight accent made my back clench. What was Svetlana doing here? Hadn’t I sent her on vacation somewhere?

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Getting a drink.” She leaned against the bar, looking like she ought to have a cigarette perched between her fingers, waiting for me to offer her a light, like some starlet from the forties. “Maui was lovely. It’s too bad you didn’t join me.”

I supposed it had been several weeks since I’d last seen her. “I’m glad you enjoyed your trip.”

“It was very generous of you. I never did get to thank you properly.”

“No thanks necessary. That was the point.”

The bartender came over and she ordered a cosmopolitan. She glanced at me, but I didn’t offer to pay.

Why was she here? She’d left me two messages shortly after I broke things off with her, but I hadn’t returned her calls. It seemed she’d been happy to spend my money in Hawaii. She was certainly tan.

I’d made it clear we were over. What did she want?

“All alone tonight?” she asked.

“No, my date is running late.”

Obviously I didn’t have a date. But I wanted her to think I did. Solidify the fact that our brief encounter was finished. I’d moved on.

The bartender brought her cocktail. She held it with her fingertips. “I see. Well, have a nice evening, Shepherd.”

“You too.”

She walked away and I took another sip of my drink. Svetlana was probably here to case the bar—either looking to ‘accidentally’ run into me, or simply to meet some other rich asshole who’d fall for her act. This was the place for it, especially tonight.

Finishing my drink, I put her out of my mind.

The ballroom was busy, a low hum of voices hanging in the air. Men in tuxes and women in evening gowns wandered around or congregated in small groups. Others sat at tables set with white linens. Waiters walked through the cavernous room with trays of hors d’oeuvres and glasses of champagne.

I spotted my father a short distance away. He was dressed in a black tux with a silver tie, his graying hair neatly cut. My father looked like a shark, but he had all the bite of a puppy.

“There he is,” Dad said, walking toward me with his arms outstretched.

I endured his hug, patting him on the back. “Hi, Dad.”

“It’s a shame your brother couldn’t be here,” he said. “But thanks for coming.”

“No problem. Do you have a speech planned?”

He waved his hand, like it didn’t matter. “Oh, I’ll think of something suitable to say. I’d written one but… well, I have a different perspective on things lately.”

“You look good. Tan. Have you been on vacation?”

“I was.” His face fell, and for a moment, he looked serious. He cleared his throat, and then his smile was back. “I needed to get away and clear my head. But we can talk about that later. Right now, I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

The sparkle in his eye said it all. Dad had a new girlfriend. Or fling. It was hard to say. Unfortunately, he wasn’t any better than I was at choosing the right woman—my mother being a prime example. Since their divorce when I was a teenager, he’d been with a number of different women. They’d ranged in age and ethnicity— I had to give it to him; at least he’d been trying different things.

I knew exactly what his problem was. He was too goddamn nice. Wealthy businessmen had a reputation for being cold and unfeeling. Hell, the term businesslike had been coined for a reason. But my dad was a fucking teddy bear. He was a brilliant businessman, but he always saw the best in people—especially beautiful women. It made him an easy target.

“That’s great, Dad.”

“What about you?” he asked. “Where’s your date? I was hoping I’d get to meet this one.”

I opened my mouth to tell him that I hadn’t brought a date, but nothing came out. My throat felt like there was a hand wrapped around my windpipe, making speech impossible.

Svetlana approached, dressed in a long gold gown with a slit that went almost as high as her fucking belly button. I hadn’t even noticed her dress when I’d seen her in the bar, but she sauntered toward us, using every inch of her attire to its best advantage. Her thick hair was down in waves around her bare shoulders, and her sparkling gold heels made her almost as tall as me.