The Worst Best Man(24)
The kid pocketed the money cheerfully. “If you get caught, don’t mention my name.”
Frankie threw him a salute as she stepped out the door. “Thanks, kid.”
“Here’s my card.” Antonio shoved a business card out the window at her. “Call me anytime you need anything.”
Frankie took it and tucked it into her clutch. “That kid is either going to end up running a drug cartel or a small country someday,” she predicted as she watched the taillights recede in the dark.
“Uh-huh,” Aiden said, noncommittally. “How good are you at climbing walls?”
It turned out not very. She ended up needing a boost from Aiden, whose hand lingered a lot longer than necessary on her ass. But in the end, she made it up and over, landing hard enough to knock the wind out of her. The sound of snagging chiffon on the way down made her wince. She was still gasping for breath when Aiden nimbly landed beside her, her shoes in his hand.
“You okay?” he asked, pulling her to her feet.
“Fine. Totally fine,” she wheezed. She stepped away from the flowering shrub she’d flattened with her comical landing and brushed the dirt off of the skirt of her dress. She’d felt the fabric tear as she flopped over the wall graceful as a humpback whale and hoped she hadn’t done any real damage. Pru would kill her… if there was a wedding to be killed over. “Crap! I tore the skirt. It’s okay. I can fix it.”
“Come on,” Aiden whispered. He grabbed her hand and led the way into the dark.
Frankie couldn’t see shit. But Aiden seemed to have night vision, pulling her through the vegetation and around trees in the scant moonlight. The peepers chirped in a loud, never-ending serenade to the night. The air was thick with exotic fragrances. Aiden’s feet were sure beneath him while she tripped over roots and branches and god knew what that weird squishy thing was. All that she could see was the broad shadow of Aiden’s shoulders in front of her as he towed her through the forest.
They were getting closer to the ocean. She could hear the waves, taste the tang of salt on the air. Aiden stopped in front of her and she walked into his broad back.
She heard the far-off beat of club music.
Up ahead, through leafy palm fronds and a smattering of moonlight, Frankie could see lights. Purple and silver flashes seemed to pulse to the thrumming beat of music. Someone had brought L.A.’s hottest club to paradise or at least a very expensive DJ to an heiress’s second wedding.
“I think we’ve found the party,” Aiden said quietly.
“Okay, so what are we supposed to do?” Frankie asked. “Roll up out of the shrubs and order a round of shots?”
“Tequila or whiskey?” he asked.
“Tequila is always the answer.”
“Let’s try to get a little closer,” Aiden said. “Then we’ll discuss our bar order.”
“Wait, what’s our backstory? Who are you? Who am I? How do we know Trell?”
“Trell?” Aiden asked, his lips quirking on one side.
“Obviously if we’re her friends we don’t call her Trellenwy.” Duh.
“Fine. I’m an old friend of Trellenwy, and you’re my date.”
“Why aren’t I an old friend of Trellenwy?” Frankie demanded. Her foot caught on a thick root and she went sprawling to the ground. “Oh, man! How am I going to get poison berry juice out of this?” she rubbed at the stain from the plant she’d landed on. It looked like the period fairy had just shook her wand over Frankie’s hip. “Crap. Okay. I can fix this. I’ll soak it in… something.”
Aiden sighed. “Franchesca, what’s more believable? A socialite has an acquaintance with a wealthy New York business owner with a reputation for dating women just like her or the daughter of Brooklyn deli owners?”
“Excuse me. Are you saying I can’t pass for upper class?” Frankie demanded.
“Just shut up.”
He clamped a hand over her wrist and dragged her forward, skirting the lights and music.
It was nearly one a.m. in paradise, and she had a sexy, crazy rich bachelor who could have made a lucrative career out of being beautiful dragging her around in the dark. Frankie should have been squealing with joy on the inside. Instead? She was pissed. Annoyed at the whole thing. That someone would take Chip. That she couldn’t “pass” for being some dumb socialite with more money than street smarts. That some security guard would potentially believe Aiden would have a better chance of knowing Trellenwy. That they didn’t exist in the same worlds. And she didn’t know why that mattered.
Sure, she could let Mr. Big Deal Kilbourn put his hands on her. But in the eyes of the entire world, she was the lesser partner here. He had the power, the control. He’d tire of her and move on, just as he had with every other woman in his life.
The sound of the waves was louder now. The lights and thump of the music was behind them. She could see moonlight dancing on the ocean through the trees that separated them from the beach. There was no more talking now. They were just a billionaire and his nameless date out for a late-night stroll.
A twig snapped under her foot, and Aiden swore quietly. He turned and pulled Frankie against him. She wanted to tell him to get his damn hands off of her. To go to hell.
He took her down to the sand in a move so smooth she barely felt the shift in her gravity.