Chapter 25
Natalie
Tip #25: Fake fiancés should always have your back. Bonus points if they shut down snooty guests on your behalf.
A s Samuel and I stepped into the opulent hotel ballroom, arm in arm, my breath caught at the beauty of the gala.
Music from a live string quartet set up near the back of the room wound around me like a friendly cat rubbing against my legs. Tables adorned with white linens and towering centerpieces made of roses, hydrangeas, and lilies filled the space, while well-dressed gala attendees mingled, their laughter and clinking glasses creating a lively atmosphere.
“Are you sure about this?” I nervously whispered.
“Sure about what?” Samuel glanced down at me with amusement.
“About me being here. I might screw up and affect Warner Print’s reputation...” I leaned in close so I could whisper, “and all for a fake engagement.”
“Relax, Nat.” Samuel gave my arm a comforting squeeze, and I caught a whiff of his cologne—a combination of woody cedar and cardamom that smelled so good it was distracting. “You’ll do fine. Besides, I’m happy to have you here with me.”
“It’s your funeral,” I said. “You can’t say later I didn’t warn you.”
Samuel tenderly kissed me on the cheek. There was something in his gaze that I couldn’t quite place except to say that he looked way too affectionate considering it was pretend.
“You look beautiful tonight,” Samuel said.
“Thank you.” I brushed the skirt of the emerald-green gown I’d chosen for the night, then glanced over Samuel’s tailored suit that accentuated his athletic build, the crisp white shirt, and sleek black tie adding to his allure. “And you are really handsome.”
“I will never tire of getting compliments from you.” Samuel smirked like a cat that had finally cornered a mouse, and my mouselike senses started going off, warning me that his look was hunger, and not for food.
“Samuel!” someone called out.
We both turned to see Isaac approaching, a pretty woman on his arm. She exuded effortless elegance, her polished manners and constant, polite smile making her every bit the type of professional woman who belonged in this kind of place.
“Is that Isaac’s girlfriend?” I asked as they approached.
Samuel barked with laughter. “Please. Isaac wouldn’t know romance if it waited in the bushes to club him upside his thick head. That’s his long-suffering executive assistant, who has been his de facto date and second set of hands since we started working at Warner Print.”
“Ah.” I nodded. “I’m not sure if I should admire her competency or her work ethic that makes her keep up with Isaac.”
“Both,” Samuel suggested. “You should also pity her. Lots and lots of pity.”
Isaac and his date reached us, Isaac taking charge of the introductions.
“Sam, Nat, glad to see you made it.” The warmth in his voice when he used my nickname surprised me. “Nat, this is Charlotte Fisher, my secretary. Charlotte, this is Natalie Mann, Sam’s fiancée.”
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Charlotte offered her hand.
I shook it. “Likewise. Do you happen to be Kathy Fisher’s daughter?”
“Yes,” Charlotte said. “She’s told me a lot about you.”
“And I’ve heard a lot about you too,” I said.
“Let me guess,” Samuel said. “You two are related?”
“Nope,” I said. “But our mothers work together.”
“Of course they do,” Samuel said dryly.
“Charlotte, it’s so nice to have a fellow Fox Creek resident at the gala,” I said with genuine relief. “Please tell me if I make any faux pas tonight.”
“Of course, but I’m sure it won’t be necessary,” Charlotte said. “You’ll do just fine.”
“Absolutely,” Samuel agreed, adjusting his arm so he could take my hand in his and squeeze it. “And don’t worry. You’re too stunning for anyone to notice if you do happen to make a mistake.” He winked playfully.
Ignoring Samuel’s flirty remark, I turned my attention to Isaac. “Who else from your family is here tonight?”
“Mother and Grandfather are already making the rounds,” Isaac said. “Logan’s here as well, but don’t be surprised if he slips away. He’s never been one for parties, and he’s infamous for skipping out early.”
Samuel briefly consulted his cell phone. “Uncle Charles texted me on the drive over. He and Aunt Jamie will be late. Apparently, she decided to go ice fishing before the gala, and it took him quite a while to drag her away from her ice shack to get ready.”
“Classic Aunt Jamie,” Isaac said.
“Does that mean Jenna isn’t here tonight?” I asked.
“No, she had a night shift at the hospital she couldn’t get out of,” Charlotte said.
“Got it. Then is there anyone at the party I should be wary of or be extra careful around?” I asked.
Samuel and Isaac exchanged twin expressions of confusion, their foreheads furrowing the exact same way.
“Why would you need to be careful around anyone?” Samuel asked, puzzled.
“I don’t exactly have the Warner reputation and standing backing me up like you all do,” I said.
“Of course you do. You have all the Warner money at your beck and call,” Samuel said. “You’re about to marry a Warner, remember?”
We all shared a laugh, mine bordering on maniacal, as Samuel had just figuratively scored one on me again.
I swung our joint hands. “Isn’t he funny? His humor is one of his many charms.” Internally, I was surprised to realize that I genuinely enjoyed our banter these days rather than letting it enrage me.
“Indeed,” Charlotte agreed, briefly bowing her head. “You two are such a well-matched couple. And Samuel is correct. Soon, you’ll be a Warner, and you’ll receive the same respect—and toadying up to—that the Warner family is afforded and annoyed by.”
Isaac nodded in agreement. “If anyone dares treat you discourteously, find the nearest Warner and let them know. The problem will be resolved immediately.”
I was touched by Isaac’s offer. Isaac was the colder twin. It was obvious he was making an effort, which made me feel bad that Samuel and I were technically abusing his goodwill.
“Don’t fret, pet,” Samuel said. “This is a charity gala, remember? The proceeds are going to an after-school program, so it’s theoretically a purely social event.” He paused for a moment before conceding, “Of course, there’s always gossip, social maneuvering, and petty squabbles at any party.”
“Wow,” I said sarcastically, “you’re really selling it.”
“Look on the bright side,” Samuel said. “At least you’re not wearing rented, potentially diseased bowling shoes.”
“That really offended you, didn’t it?” I laughed, remembering our bowling adventure.
“Yes.” Samuel theatrically sniffed. “It did.”
“I didn’t realize you were such a germaphobe,” I said. “I’ll keep that in mind next time you want to try my drink.”
“What?” Samuel straightened, all signs of playacting leaving his body. “No—that’s not fair.”
Isaac turned to Charlotte and gestured at his twin. “Didn’t I tell you? Sam is completely under Natalie’s thumb.”
“It certainly seems like it,” Charlotte agreed, her smile shifting from polite professionalism to something more personal and welcoming. “Congratulations, Natalie. All of us at Warner Print are very excited to have you join the Warner family.”
“Thank you,” I said, touched by her welcome and feeling increasingly guilty. Now it wasn’t just Isaac’s goodwill we were abusing, but Warner Print’s employees’ too.
Once this was all over, I was going to have to take serious inventory of just how far I was willing to go in pursuit of my goal, because this did not feel good.
Isaac glanced around the ballroom. “We should start mingling. I see a few clients we need to greet. Divide and conquer?”
“Yes,” Samuel said. “Let’s get it over with as fast as possible. Good luck, Isaac, Charlotte.”
We parted ways. Isaac and Charlotte dove straight into the crowd, while Samuel and I picked our way around the ballroom’s perimeter.
The stares from the other gala attendees were a weight on my back as Samuel raised my hand so he could kiss my fingers. His gesture likely seemed careless to those watching, but I was sure it was a calculated move.
“Are you sure you want me with you? Talking to clients is exactly the kind of thing I’m worried about.” I scanned the sea of well-dressed strangers. “If I say or do something wrong, it could have repercussions on Warner Print.”
“Relax, Nat.” A hint of amusement lingered in Samuel’s voice. “I’ve seen you interact with the public while you work. You’re professional—better than if you’d been trained for this sort of thing.”
I opened and closed my mouth a few times, positively speechless. That was… unexpectedly personal.
“Besides”—Samuel mischievously swung our clasped hands—“I’ve had firsthand experience of how you handle people you hate, so I know you have nothing to fear.”
“True. You used to bring out the worst in me.” I laughed as my tension dissolved.
Samuel stopped our slow stroll around the ballroom. He stepped in front of me so we were face to face and clasped both of my hands in his. “What do you mean by ‘used to’?” His gray eyes bore into mine, and I was suddenly aware of the space between us, which seemed both huge and too little at the same time.
I tried to swallow, but my mouth was bone dry. “Used to as in, it’s in the past. Things have changed.”
“They certainly have.” Samuel breeched the gap between us, angling his head toward mine. My breath hitched as I realized he was going to kiss me, and I didn’t want to block him or turn away. Samuel squeezed my hands as our lips nearly brushed, and my eyes started to flutter shut.
“Samuel Warner!” The interruption jolted us apart.
Samuel sighed, then reluctantly faced the man. When he saw who it was, he grinned. “Darius Carter! It’s been a while.”
I took in the older, well-dressed African American man, who had deep smile lines around his mouth and eyes. He seemed innately likable and a lot friendlier than I thought anyone at this gala would be.
Darius chuckled as he shook Samuel’s hand. “I heard you got engaged, but I almost didn’t believe it—you’ve never been romantically interested in anyone!”
“That would be because I was hiding my heart back in Fox Creek.” Samuel, still holding one of my hands, tugged me forward so I was shoulder to shoulder with him. “Darius, this is Natalie, my fiancée. Natalie, this is Darius. He’s a client of Warner Print—he owns several fine dining restaurants, and we handle all their graphic design and advertisement printing.”
“Hello, Natalie!” Darius greeted me warmly, extending his hand.
“Hello, Darius,” I replied, shaking his hand. If everyone else at this gala was as friendly as he was, maybe the evening wouldn’t be so bad after all.
An hour passed, and I was starting to feel like we were trapped in a never-ending game of meet and greet as Samuel and I circulated around the ballroom.
My mind was spinning with the names and faces of so many people I’d met. Most everyone was nice, like Darius, but it was a lot to face in a room that was getting increasingly hotter and with a stomach that was threatening to start growling.
I squeezed Samuel’s hand, which he had been holding since we started our rounds. He glanced down at me, concern etching his handsome features.
“I need a break,” I whispered. “I’ll be back shortly.”
“Sure thing.” Samuel planted a sweet kiss on my forehead before turning to greet a trio of women who were about his mother’s age.
As I slipped away, I had just enough time to hear one of the women ask, “Was that your famed fiancée?”
“Yes,” Samuel said. “Isn’t she gorgeous?”
I hustled through the crowd, anxious to flee before I heard Samuel say even more nice things about me for the sake of our lie.
My original plan was to head to a bathroom just to get out of the stuffy ballroom for a moment, but when I was making my way to one of the open doors, I spotted a server carrying a tray of hors d’oeuvres.
My stomach rumbled at the sight, and I knew if I didn’t grab something it would likely growl at the most embarrassing moment possible.
So I turned away from the door and approached the server. “Pardon me, but what are you serving?”
The server lowered his tray for me. “Good evening. These are fig, pecan, and brie puff bites, and on this side we have mushroom-stuffed phyllo cups.”
“Thank you, I’ll take one of each, please.” I gratefully took a napkin and the offered appetizers.
I nibbled on the fig, pecan, and brie puff bite, savoring the creamy, tangy cheese mingling with the sweetness of the figs and the crunchiness of the pecans as I spun in a slow circle, searching for the nearest door.
I found it when I finished the puff and was about to try the mushroom-stuffed phyllo cup when someone asked, “Are you Samuel Warner’s fiancée?”
Crap. I’d taken too long to make my exit.
An older couple who looked like they were in their early sixties, impeccably dressed and oozing money, approached me.
“Yes. I’m Natalie Mann.”
“Ah,” the wife of the duo said, her narrowed eyes matching the pinched end of her nose.
“We are the Hurtzes,” the husband said.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said.
The husband huffed, clearly miffed that I didn’t recognize their name. (Didn’t they seem fun?)
I nodded my head to the pair. “If you’ll excuse me?—”
The wife interrupted me, her voice dripping with disdain. “Is it true that you’re a mere town clerk?”
I instantly swapped to my work mode, pasting on my customer service smile. “Yes, I’m the Fox Creek town clerk.”
“I see. Congratulations on catching Samuel,” the wife drawled. “He was such a sought-after bachelor. So many women had their eyes on him.” She looked me over pointedly. “I suppose all their attempts were useless, seeing how Samuel appears to have... interesting taste.”
I gazed at the older woman in wonder. I wasn’t surprised she was being snobby to me. I’d just assumed that in upper society, insults would be subtler and more condescending, or at least hurtful!
This woman, however, was about on par with an ornery Fox Creek resident who didn’t want to pay property taxes.
“Well,” I said sweetly, feigning innocence, “I’m grateful Samuel has such unusual tastes since I am admittedly selfish, and I enjoy having his eyes all to myself.”
The wife’s face turned a shade of red that matched her dress. “How-how crass!”
“Yes,” I said. “Now, I must be going?—”
“Do you plan on getting a real job?” the husband asked, apparently taking up the charge on behalf of his stammering wife. “Or will you simply live off Samuel since you don’t have any skills or knowledge to contribute to Warner Print?”
Channeling my inner actress once more, I batted my eyelashes. “You know, I hadn’t really thought about it. But now that you mention it, I suppose I’m grateful Samuel doesn’t need my help. That way, I can just waste my time mingling at parties like tonight’s gala. After all, if you two are any indication, it doesn’t require any skill at all.”
I internally cackled as the couple fumed. That’s what you get when you act like rude toads!
The wife sputtered, so offended she was unable to form words. I idly wondered if maybe I’d pushed the boundaries too far for this type of party while the husband squared his shoulders and glared at me. “Look here, you…” he started, but suddenly, his face turned an interesting mix of mottled purple, and he trailed off.
At first, I worried he might be having a health emergency, but then I heard a dark, angry voice behind me. “What were you about to call my fiancée?” Samuel demanded, his tone icy.
I peered behind me, surprised at this side of Samuel I’d never seen before.
His fine face was contorted into a mask of fury, his brow furrowed and his jaw clenched. His piercing gray eyes were stormy with anger as he glared at the couple. He was intimidating, almost like a force of nature.
And I, his supposed worst enemy, had never before seen him like this even though we’d spent our adult lives arguing.
The Hurtzes scrambled for words, trying to save face.
“We-we just wanted to greet the woman you’re marrying, Samuel,” the wife stammered. “But she’s been downright rude to us. I must say, we’re disappointed in your selection.”
Samuel slipped his arm around my back, his voice sharp. “And why would you think I care about your opinions or feelings?”
The wife nudged her husband, who finally managed to speak up. “We knew your father, Samuel. He’d be disappointed with your choice of fiancée.”
The blow was below the belt and completely uncalled for. How dare they bring up Samuel’s father when losing him had been so difficult for the Warners? I balled my hands into fists and wished I could do something, anything , to set the awful couple straight.
Samuel was also angry, but not for the same reason. “Just because you knew my father doesn’t mean I have to care what you think,” he spat out, each word dripping with venom. “But in this case I will correct you. He knew exactly who Natalie was before he died, and he knew how amazing, loyal, empathetic, and lovely she is.”
Uh… was he sure about that? While I was moved over Samuel’s passionate defense of me, if Samuel’s dad knew who I was, it was probably because I ran my mouth off as a Mann and not because he found any trait of mine admirable. I fought with his son all the time, for cryin’ out loud.
The gala attendees around us were starting to turn in our direction and whisper to one another as they watched the show.
Mrs. Hurtz sniffed. “Say what you will, I demand an apology from her.”
“Apology?” Samuel scoffed. “You can demand all you want. Natalie has nothing to apologize for. She treated you with more politeness than you deserve.”
Mr. Hurtz narrowed his eyes, trying to regain some control. “Watch what you say, Samuel. I’m friends with several Warner Print clients, and I’ll be sure to tell them about this interaction.”
Samuel tilted his head back, a look of supreme satisfaction settling over his face. “Go ahead. Tell your friends. If they’re anything like you, we don’t want them as clients anyway.”
Mrs. Hurtz leaned forward, her eyes beady in the low lights of the ballroom. “But the loss of business will hurt you!”
“Please.” Samuel smirked, his confidence returning in full force. “We’re Warners.”
More people had gathered around us, whispering and watching the spectacle unfold.
I leaned into Samuel’s side. “Sam, maybe we should leave. We’re getting a lot of unnecessary attention.”
“Leave? When they haven’t even begun to regret their actions?” His gaze was still angry and cold as he scoffed at the couple. “I won’t stand for anyone insulting you, Nat.”
The genuine feeling behind his statement rattled my heart—he really was doing this because he was upset they’d insulted me, not because he was playacting.
I smiled up at him. “I’m fine, really. They’re not worth wasting time arguing with. Besides, wouldn’t you rather spend that time flirting with me?”
“When you put it that way...” Samuel shifted all of his attention to me, and the tension in the air dissipated as he turned back into the charming Samuel I knew. “Fine. We can go.”
As we turned to leave, the Hurtzes’ anger still simmered.
The husband barked out to Samuel, “If your father could see you now, he’d be disappointed with how you turned out!”
Estelle Warner appeared behind the pair like a silent, elegant social assassin. Her voice was dangerously polite as she asked, “What exactly did you just say about my son and my future daughter-in-law?”
The Hurtzes spun around to face Estelle and stammered, trying to find an explanation that would satisfy the ice queen before them. Estelle’s frosty gaze remained unimpressed. “If you find the Warner family so revolting,” she said, her words like steel, “I’m more than happy to break all business and social ties with you. We have standards, after all.”
I stared at Estelle in awe, admiring how a woman so beautiful and poised could look so dark and intimidating. I made a mental note to memorize her mannerisms for future encounters with grumpy Fox Creek residents.
The crowd around us began to murmur, their whispers growing louder until Logan—tall, broad-shouldered, and shadowlike—stepped up behind Estelle. The moment they caught sight of him, most partygoers immediately looked away, too afraid of his imposing presence to continue watching the drama unfold. Under Logan’s steely gaze, the Hurtzes gulped and finally fell silent.
“Family attack dog strikes again,” Walter remarked as he joined Samuel and me, gesturing to Logan.
“He’s good at his job,” Samuel said.
Walter made a coughing harrumph of agreement, then turned to us and mashed his lips together. “Why were you two wasting time with those unpleasant snakes?”
“The snakes cornered Nat.” Samuel squeezed the hand that he’d possessively settled on my waist. “And they discovered she has claws.”
Walter chuckled and chucked me under the chin. “We Warner men do have a soft spot for firecrackers.”
I pulled my attention away from watching Estelle and Logan give the Hurtzes a dressing down. “Aww, thank you, Walter.”
Samuel tapped a finger on my side to get me to look at him. “Are you really OK? You’ve been quiet, which concerns me.”
“I was just thinking that when I grow up, I want to be like your mother,” I joked.
Samuel made a pained expression. “Please never tell her that. If you do, you might replace Chuck as her favorite child—even if you are an in-law. And Isaac and I can’t handle the additional competition when we’re already losing to a dog.”
I laughed and glanced again at the Warner matron and attack dog.
Logan’s imposing figure towered over the Hurtzes as he spoke to them in a deep, rumbly tone that I couldn’t quite make out. Estelle watched with an air of satisfaction, and the expressions on the Hurtzes’ faces told me everything I needed to know: Logan was putting them in their place.
Samuel must have been feeling a lot better, because he nudged me. “What’s that you’ve got there, Nat?” He pointedly stared at my slightly crumpled napkin that held the second hors d’oeuvre I didn’t get a chance to try.
“According to the server, it’s a mushroom-stuffed phyllo cup,” I said.
Samuel studied the napkin. “Can I have it?”
“Sure.” I held out the napkin to him, but instead of taking it, he gave me a sappy look that brimmed with dramatized adoration.
“Will you feed it to me?” he asked. “I don’t want to let you go.” He squeezed my waist again for emphasis.
It amazed me how this flirty guy could also be so intimidating when roused. But after his passionate defense of me earlier, I was inclined to give in to him instead of refusing like I normally would have. “Sure,” I said. “Open up.” I held the phyllo cup up to his lips.
“Really?” Walter rolled his eyes, amused. “If you two are going to get lost in your little world of love, I’m going to watch Logan figuratively tar and feather the Hurtzes.” He gestured toward the ongoing confrontation.
“Have fun,” I said.
“Thanks. And good luck getting any personal space tonight, Natalie.” Walter snorted, then strode off, leaving us alone.
I once again held the phyllo cup up to Samuel’s mouth. Instead of devouring it in one bite like I expected, he bit off half and chewed thoughtfully. When he took the second half, his tongue brushed against my fingertips in a way that made my toes curl in my strappy shoes.
“Samuel!” I scolded.
“Can’t blame a guy for seizing every opportunity,” Samuel said, unapologetic.
I shook my head as I wiped my fingers off on my napkin, my smile dying when I felt the eyes of more partygoers watching us.
“Want to step out for some fresh air?” Samuel asked.
“Absolutely,” I agreed gratefully. He guided me toward the door with the gentle pressure of his arm around my waist, leaving behind the whispers and stares of the crowd.
The abrupt change in temperature from the stuffy ballroom to the much cooler hallway made me break out in goose bumps. I ventured a glance back toward Walter, Estelle, and Logan, their support still a pleasant surprise to me. They had come to my defense without hesitation, something that both warmed my heart and left me in awe. I felt a surge of gratitude and affection for them.
“Nat?” Samuel’s voice snapped me out of my reverie. I looked up at him, even more handsome than usual with the extra shadows from the low lighting playing across the planes of his face, and smiled.
“Thank you, Sam.” My voice was rough with emotion I didn’t want to identify. “You didn’t have to go as far as you did to defend me, but I appreciate that you did.”
Samuel tugged me closer. “Any time.”
I leaned my head against his shoulder as we strolled down the hallway together.