The Worst Best Man(85)

The event felt like someone’s wedding. White and crystal and sterling silver everywhere. A winter wonderland, she believed the theme was. It had to be $500 a head, which made her wonder exactly how many people here would have been happier to cough up $250 just for the privilege of staying home.

But she supposed being seen supporting a worthy cause was part and parcel of the responsibility of wealth. Aiden and Fast Feet were still chatting near the ice sculpture on the canapes buffet.

A suit sidled up next to her. “So, Franchesca, when are you going to apologize for breaking my nose?”

Elliot might have been trying to be charming, but he came across like a slug oozing slime. He was blond like his mother with finer features than Aiden. He was pretty, not handsome. His presence wasn’t commanding like Aiden’s either. It was more of an afterthought.

“Maybe when you apologize for committing a felony and nearly ruining my best friend’s wedding.”

He gave an elegant shrug of his slim shoulders. “No harm, no foul.”

She swung around to face him. “Lots of harm, lots of foul,” she countered.

“I came over to clear the air. Now that you’re part of the family, we can’t have any bad blood between us. Now, can we?”

“I’m completely fine with lots of bad blood.”

He laughed, but it sounded forced to her ears.

“I think you should dance with me,” Elliot announced.

“Did you get a concussion when I hit you?”

“It’s all about putting on a show.” He held his arm out toward the dance floor. “Don’t you want to prove that you can play the game?”

Frankie downed the rest of her tequila and pointed the empty glass at the bartender. He gave her a nod and started pouring.

“One dance, and you will not grab my ass or piss me off or abduct anyone, got it?”

“My word,” he said, crossing his heart.

He led her onto the floor and settled his hand at her waist. She didn’t particularly care for it. There was only one Kilbourn whose hands she wanted anywhere near her.

She followed his lead, grateful for the three weeks of remedial ballroom dance her high school gym class had forced on students every year.

“So, what do you want, Elliot?”

“Maybe I just want to spend time with my brother’s girlfriend.”

“Or maybe you want something. I like people who cut to the chase and don’t waste my time with flattery or threats.”

“I need something from my brother.”

“So ask him,” Frankie said.

“It’s not that simple,” Elliot argued.

“Yes. It is.”

“I need a favor that’s he’s not going to want to give to me.”

“So why are you dancing with me? You going to twirl me into a van and chloroform me until he agrees to whatever you want?”

“Where did my brother find you?”

“Dancing like a stripper at an engagement party.”

Elliot laughed. “You’re refreshing.”

“And you’re stifling me. Don’t use me to get to Aiden. Be a big boy and talk to your brother.”

The song ended, and Frankie abandoned Elliot in the middle of the floor and headed for the bar. She made it within six feet before she was intercepted.

“Franchesca, my dear. There you are,” Ferris Kilbourn said. “Allow me. A glass of wine for the lady,” he said chivalrously.

Frankie stared mournfully at her two fingers of tequila sitting behind the bar.

“Walk with me, will you?” Ferris suggested, handing her a glass of white wine.

“Certainly.”

She followed him to the edge of the room where a wall of windows and doors overlooked a stone courtyard. He held out a chair for her at an empty table.

Grateful to get off her feet, Frankie flopped down and kicked off her shoes under the table.

“I just wanted to make sure you didn’t take offense to the concerns I voiced to Aiden,” Ferris began.

Frankie caught on to his game quickly.

“Concerns?” she said innocently.

“I’m sure you’re a lovely girl,” Ferris began.

“I’m an even better woman.” Frankie didn’t like it when older men tried to put her in the same category as her thirteen-year-old cousin who was obsessed with Harry Styles and Snapchat.

“Of course, of course. What I mean to say is I don’t want you to take it personally that I believe you don’t quite fit into our world. In fact, I’d be very surprised if you didn’t agree with me.” There was no malice behind his words. Manipulation, yes. But no real desire to harm.

She’d spent forty fucking minutes on her makeup for this. She could have troweled on blue eye shadow and bronzer in five minutes instead since they saw her for who she was. A girl from Brooklyn with student loans and no portfolio.

“Then I guess you’d be surprised. I’m not on my way out like some other family members,” Frankie said, staring pointedly across the room at Jacqueline.

Ferris looked flustered for a moment.

There, didn’t expect that, did you smarty pants?

He’d dropped the Aiden bomb knowing full well his son wouldn’t have discussed that particular conversation with her. But she’d gotten a piece back.