The Decoy Girlfriend(63)
“As long as you’re not just trying to keep me to yourself all night,” she teases.
Taft’s answering smile sends a siege of butterflies soaring through Freya’s stomach.
“Would that be such a bad thing?” he teases right back. Seemingly without thinking about it, he presses a tender kiss to her temple.
It’s only when she gets a glimpse of the other lobby-goers sneaking glances at them that she can’t tell whether it’s for her or an act to sell Taft and Mandi’s relationship.
But her body doesn’t know the difference, even if her head tries to make the distinction. Goose bumps skate down her arms and legs. Freya’s toes involuntarily curl in the silver heels her doppelg?nger dictator insisted she wear when they video-chatted earlier about what outfit she should wear out tonight.
She’s in a gold Carolina Herrera ball gown that clings to her figure and makes it even harder to walk. But it gives her an excuse to hang on to Taft’s arm, and she knows that paired with the crystal collar necklace, the limelight is extra flattering, so it’s not that agonizing.
“Everything okay?” asks Freya. “You’ve been kinda quiet and lone wolfy since we got here.”
She wonders how much of that has to do with Connor Kingdom holding court with some of the other Once Bitten cast members at the far side of the lobby. The fact that he waved at Taft but didn’t wave him over, a distinction that had her setting her teeth until her jaw ached. The way Taft’s eyes keep flicking back to them with a longing he must be unaware of, a flash of insecurity that looks out of place on his handsome face. God, she knee-jerk hates his so-called friends.
She fixes a glare to the back of Connor’s neck, hoping he feels it. Turns around. Realizes Taft is left out. A hypocritical part of her wants to tell Taft to just go over and insinuate himself into their group, but she gets how it’s safer to just pretend it isn’t happening. She never was good at taking her own advice.
Looking up at Taft is dazzling, thanks to the chandelier glittering above their heads, casting an almost disco-ball effect through the room. Not to mention the man himself, sexy as hell in his tux and well-defined curls. At an event full of hotties of all genders, Freya’s smitten for only him.
Taft exhales. “Yeah, I just . . . didn’t realize how much I wanted this for myself.”
“Awwwww, you’re getting all misty-eyed,” she teases, nudging his side. “Your premiere is just two weeks away, and we’ll—you’ll—be arriving in plenty of style.”
She hopes he doesn’t notice her slip. Sometimes, it’s easy to forget this life comes with an end date.
Taft gives her an indulgent smile, still a little bit dreamy as he takes in the ambience. “I don’t mean the premiere. I mean”—he gestures—“all this.”
His unhelpful sentence hardly illuminates Freya further, but the stars in his eyes are practically bounding.
“Really?” she asks. “You must have had a hundred nights just as glamorous as this one.”
Maybe more. Cannes, Tribeca, Sundance. Met Galas and Paris Fashion Week. All those Best On-Screen Chemistry and Network Fantasy/Sci-Fi TV Show awards he racked up for Once Bitten and Banshee of the Baskervilles.
He comes back to himself with a self-conscious laugh. “Nah, I don’t care about all the pomp. I mean, I’d like to do what Bowen does. This film was her passion project. Could you imagine if I could create my own stuff, not just wait and see what might come my way? I want to take risks and follow my heart.”
Before she can tell him to go boldly after it, someone shrieks, “Oh, there’s Mandi!”
Immediately, they’re overwhelmed by a throng of people all dressed to the nines. Holly Kingdom pushes her way to the front, smile in full force. She’s dragging Bowen Brennan, the blond bombshell on the theatrical release posters and the lady of the hour, behind her. Their voluminous evening gowns billow around them, ensuring people make room.
“Have you met?” Holly asks without ceremony. “Bowen, you know all about Mandi, of course. Naughty Taft, keeping her all to yourself! Mandi, I promise you have nothing to be jealous about. Bow only played his on-screen love interest.” She winks. “As far as I know.”
Seriously? A ripple of annoyance winnows through Freya. Taft stiffens, and she has to employ every facial muscle to keep from snarling at Holly.
Bowen looks uncomfortable. “Hi, please don’t pay attention to Holly. Nothing happened, and I am very happily married to that man over there.” She points at a lanky dirty-blond swinging his cocktail glass exuberantly while a handful of film critics furiously scribble notes.
Freya strives to be friendly. “No worries, even I was rooting for your characters ever since the pilot, so I get why Holly clearly mistook on-screen chemistry for more. At one point, I wanted to be you.”
Well, more precisely, she wanted to be the one kissing him, but it never hurts to stroke an ego.
Taft startles, and Freya can feel the weight of his stare from the corner of her eye, but Bowen breaks into a grin, looking relieved. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or embarrassed. I like to pretend that the show never happened, but I guess that’s going to be hard from now on.”
Bowen slides her eyes to Taft, as if she just remembered he was there. “Good to see you. It’s been a while.”