Rascal (Rascals Book 1)(18)

No doubt the partners loved him.

“This is my fiancée, Meredith,” Bryce introduced the petite redhead at his side.

She looked sweet, but a little overwhelmed.

I introduced Emerson to everyone, and he handled it like a pro, shaking everyone’s hand and making good, confident eye contact. First impressions were everything in our business and I could tell that Emerson understood that.

“You look familiar,” Bryce told him. “Are you from Chicago?”

“Born and raised,” Emerson confirmed.

It was then that I realized that I knew absolutely nothing about Emerson’s background—not exactly ideal when we were pretending to be in a serious relationship. Hell, I didn’t even know his last name.

“Cubs or Sox?” Bryce asked him.

“Cubs, of course,” Emerson said with confidence, and I could see Bryce warming up to him. Roland too, seemed, interested.

Meredith and Lucinda gave me a grin. “Men and their sports teams,” Lucinda cooed, rolling her eyes.

I couldn’t bring myself to play along. I mean, come on. Were we supposed to hang on the sidelines swapping cookie recipes or something?

“Cubs are looking good this season,” I joined the guys’ conversation. “What do you think about Chatwood starting?”

Emerson gave me a smile. “I didn’t know you like sports,” he said in a murmur.

“There’s a lot about me you don’t know,” I smiled back.

“So, Emerson, where did you go to school?” Lucinda asked.

I sighed. I had gone to a state school, while Lucinda and Bryce had gone to private universities—and they sure didn’t want to let me forget it.

But it was my turn to be surprised.

“Northwestern,” Emerson replied. “Go Wildcats.”

Bryce’s eyes lit up. I sipped at my champagne as the two of them bro’ed out about college sports and fraternities at Northwestern. Even though I could tell that Lucinda didn’t care about either, she was obviously impressed with Emerson’s pedigree. Already, he was impressing them more than I ever had.

I spotted Arthur standing at the other end of the room with the partners.

“We should go say hello,” I pointed out, taking Emerson’s hand. “Thank our hosts.”

Lucinda sniffed. “We’ve already done that,” she said.

“All the more reason for us to excuse ourselves to do the same,” I said, giving her an aggressively friendly smile. “Don’t want to seem rude.”

I practically had to drag Emerson away from Bryce, his new best friend.

“You’re good at this,” I noted as we headed over to the partners. “And I didn’t know you went to Northwestern.”

Emerson shrugged. “That kind of stuff matters to some people.”

“Tell me about it.”

He gave my hand a squeeze. “Chin up, kid.”

“You handled them pretty well though.”

He shrugged. “I’m not the competition,” he said.

It wasn’t just that. Clearly, Emerson was way better at this whole schmoozing, small-talk thing than I had given him credit for.

“Alex,” Arthur greeted as we reached him and the other partners. “And Emerson, right? Good to see you again.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Emerson said, shaking his hand.

This time, it was Arthur who made the introductions, but paused before he formerly introduced Emerson.

“I’m not sure I ever got your last name,” he said.

“Hayes, Emerson Hayes.”

Suddenly, he had everyone’s attention.

“Are you Malcolm’s son?” one of the partners asked.

Emerson nodded. “Yes, sir.”

I didn’t know who Malcolm Hayes was, but I got the impression that I should. I made a note to google it on my phone when I had a moment.

We all chatted for a few minutes, but I could tell that the partners were looking at me with a newfound interest. Clearly, I had done something right by bringing Emerson. I just didn’t know what.

Emerson’s phone buzzed, and he excused himself to take the call. The minute he was out of earshot, Arthur pulled me aside.

“You didn’t mention that he was a Hayes,” he said.

I gave a non-committal shrug, hoping not to give away the fact that I’d had no idea that he was a Hayes and continued to have no idea what that meant.

“His father is exactly the kind of client we’re looking to take on. His company is very influential, and very wealthy,” he told me.

Oh. OH.

I didn’t know what to say. I had no idea that Emerson came from an important Chicago family—and how could I? We hadn’t exactly traded backgrounds, not with all the flirting. And kissing. Ahem. Either way, what difference did it make? This thing between Emerson and me was only for tonight, and it wasn’t even real. His father could have been the richest man in the country and I still wouldn’t be able to do anything to get a meeting with him. Because after this evening, Emerson and I would go back to being neighbors. Nothing more.



A few hours later, the party was starting to wind down and I was definitely ready to go home. Small talk and socializing with my co-workers was exhausting, especially after only one glass of champagne and the world’s tiniest appetizers that only seemed to leave me hungrier than when I’d arrived.