Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Taylor sighed with relief when the Civic disappeared from view thirty minutes later. Her ears were still ringing from Mandy’s constant chatter.
“Tom was impressed by the car.” She cast Nick a sideways glance.
“I know.” Nick shook his head, a mix of amusement and disbelief playing on his features. “It’s amazing how some guys are so into that stuff.”
“What are you saying, some guys?” Taylor teased. “I heard that zero-to-sixty talk coming out of your mouth.”
The corners of Nick’s lips twitched. “I can talk the talk as well as anyone. But spending seventy-five grand on a sports car? That’s not me.”
“Then why did you buy it?”
Nick’s expression darkened. “I didn’t. My father did. Shortly before he died.”
A small silence settled between them.
Nick never talked about his father. Not once. And whenever she’d tried to bring him up, Nick deflected.
Taylor hesitated, curiosity prickling at her. His father sounded like a fascinating man, driven and brilliant. Yet something deeper lurked beneath—a tension Nick never voiced.
Before she could say anything, he pivoted the conversation.
“Tom told me he and Mandy are getting married on Halloween,” he said lightly. “Said we’re invited to the wedding.”
Taylor forced a smile. We won’t be together by then.
“Did he tell you Mandy wanted to wear black and have her attendants in orange taffeta?” she asked.
Nick roared with laughter. “No way.”
“It’s true. But Pastor Schmidt nixed that idea,” Taylor said, borrowing Mandy’s word. “Now she’s wearing white, and the groomsmen will wear black.”
“She wanted a black wedding dress?” Nick shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe she’d even consider it.”
Taylor arched a brow. “Think who we’re talking about here.”
“Fair point,” he admitted.
“Besides,” she added, “it might have looked elegant.”
Nick smirked. “Would you ever wear black?”
The offhand question caught her off guard. Would I?
It shouldn’t have surprised her. He didn’t know her. He didn’t know her dreams for the future, what kind of wedding she wanted, what kind of life she envisioned. Would we ever see each other again after this summer? Would we be friends? Would he come to my wedding? Would I go to his?
A strange tightness curled in her chest.
“Maybe.” She forced a small smile, trying to keep it light. “Who knows what the future holds? I certainly don’t.”
* * *
By the time Nick pulled into his driveway, it was after ten.
He changed into sweats, then grabbed his laptop, setting up in his usual spot on the couch. Normally, he’d be so lost in his work that hours would disappear before he even noticed.
Tonight, though, he couldn’t seem to focus.
His father’s Jaguar.
The thought kept circling back.
He’d never questioned why his father had made the purchase before. Seventy-five thousand dollars wasn’t a large amount of cash—not to him, not to a man like his father.
But that year had been a critical time for Lanagan Associates. The company had been in the middle of an expensive conversion project. Money had been tight.
Had his father been part of the problem?
The realization left a strange, unsettled feeling in his gut.
Nick exhaled sharply and shoved the thought aside.
It doesn’t matter now.
If he didn’t stay focused on work, Lanagan Associates would struggle again—and this time, he’d have no one to blame but himself.
* * *
Taylor stood in the entryway, her gaze sweeping the already crowded ballroom. The party she’d dreaded for weeks stretched before her, a glittering affair of polished smiles and whispered conversations.
So this is it.
The past four weeks had been a whirlwind of dress fittings, meetings, and carefully orchestrated appearances, all culminating in tonight’s event. By evening’s end, her engagement to Nicholas Lanagan III would be official.
Engagement.
The last step before marriage, Nana had said, her voice filled with unfiltered joy. As if this were real. As if I weren’t lying to everyone I love.
Taylor’s stomach tightened under the weight of guilt.
“Would you relax?”
Nick stood at her side, resplendent in his black tux, an easy smile etched on his handsome face. He lightly brushed back a strand of her hair. “It’s a party, not an execution.”
“Then why do I feel like my head is in a noose and I’m ready to swing?”
His lips quirked. “Your body’s telling you that you need some—” He snagged a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and pressed it into her hand. “—of this. Give it a try.”
Taylor arched a brow, hesitating. “Wouldn’t be trying to get me drunk, would you?”
“On one glass?” Nick grinned. “Not hardly.”
Normally, Taylor didn’t drink. She’d never much liked the taste of alcohol—or the way it made her feel. But tonight, the tiny crystal flute felt like a lifeline. She raised it to her lips and took a tentative sip. Then another.
Not bad.
The bubbles tickled her throat, the sweet taste unexpectedly enjoyable.
Too bad the glass was so small.
Before she even had time to set it down, a waiter appeared and replaced it with another.
This time, Taylor took it without hesitation. She smiled her thanks, swirling the golden liquid. “Maybe tonight won’t be so bad after all.”
Nick quirked a brow, watching her. “I think we’ll make it,” he murmured, a faint twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “One way or another.”
She peered over the rim of her champagne glass and surveyed the room.
A small get-together for twenty, she’d imagined. A quiet celebration with close family and friends. Instead, the party had spiraled into a five-hundred-guest spectacle, orchestrated by Henry Waters and Claire, who’d apparently decided that subtlety was for peasants.
The ballroom of the historic Heritage Hotel was transformed into something out of a dream. Hundreds of candles flickered in ornate beveled mirrors, reflecting an amber glow over linen-draped tables edged with lace. The scent of fresh orchids and gardenias—flown in from Hawaii at her grandparents’ insistence—clung thick in the air.
A six-piece orchestra played a slow, elegant melody, while waiters in black ties navigated seamlessly through the throng, silver trays held high, offering flutes of champagne and decadent hors d'oeuvres. Three bars and double the number of buffet tables overflowed with everything from imported cheeses to prime rib carved to order.
Taylor’s stomach growled.
She’d been so busy she hadn’t eaten all day.
She stole a glance at one of the buffets, promising herself she’d grab something to eat soon.
But for now, another flute of champagne magically appeared in her hand.
Nick waved away an offered glass, his expression hardening slightly.
“This is really something.” His voice lacked its usual ease.
Taylor turned, surprised at the edge in his tone.
“Henry and your grandparents certainly went all out,” Nick said, his blue eyes scanning the over-the-top extravagance.
“They sure did,” Taylor forced a smile, even as a sharp pang of unease twisted in her gut.
It was one thing to play along—another to let them spend a fortune on a fantasy. By the time this engagement ended, her grandparents would have a massive bill—one they had no idea was for nothing.
She wished she could stop them. But they wouldn’t hear of it.
"You only get engaged once, sweetheart," Nana had said, beaming.
Unless, of course, you’re Taylor and Nick.
Unless the entire thing is one beautifully executed lie.
Nick’s gaze flicked to her, watching her too closely. “You’re lovely.”
Her heart turned over.
She hadn’t expected him to sound so sincere.
Taylor said a silent thank-you to Nana for insisting she wear something new.
The sleek ivory gown, threaded with metallic copper, hugged Taylor’s figure like it had been made just for her.
They’d found it in an exclusive showroom on Chicago’s Michigan Avenue, a boutique so high-end that even breathing the air inside felt expensive. The neckline dipped a little lower than she was used to, but Nana had proclaimed it perfect, waving off Taylor’s concerns with a flick of her manicured hand.
"A dress like this will make a statement, darling."
Taylor had nearly choked at the price tag.
Last year, she wouldn’t have thought twice about it. This year? That was a different story.
With her financial situation precarious at best, Taylor had planned to wear something she already owned—one of the many designer gowns hanging in her closet, barely worn.
But Nana had been appalled at the suggestion.
"A new dress is my engagement gift to you. No arguments."
And just like that, a weekend shopping trip was booked, complete with first-class airline tickets and a suite at the Palmer House Hotel.
Taylor had barely finished telling Nick about it when she caught the slight lift of his brow. He hadn’t said a word, but she’d gotten the distinct impression he didn’t approve.
Men.
Who could understand them? She’d assumed he’d be happy to have a few days to himself. Instead, his reaction had been... unreadable.
It only confirmed how little she really knew about him.
She understood the public Nick Lanagan—the polished, savvy businessman, the man who commanded a boardroom with sheer presence alone, the one who could charm an entire room when it suited his purposes.
But glimpses of the private Nick had been far rarer.
The Nick who listened patiently while her grandfather reminisced about her father’s accomplishments.
The Nick who had agreed to go to church, despite looking like a man who’d rather face a corporate takeover.
The Nick who had checked on his admin after her fender bender, personally, rather than sending someone else.
She found herself watching him more closely these days, trying to understand which version of Nick was the real one.
“How’s Miss Dietrich?” she asked casually.
“She’ll be back on Monday. The cast came off yesterday.” He studied her, his enigmatic gaze lingering a beat too long. “Why?”
“Just wondering.”
Before he could read too much into it, she gestured across the ballroom, shifting the conversation.
“Isn’t that Henry over by the potted palm?”
She pointed toward the portly man, his tuxedo crisp but his stance a little too relaxed, standing beneath a towering palm tree as if he were a penguin stranded in the tropics.
“That’s him, all right.”
Nick’s arm tightened around her waist, his fingers resting lightly against her back.
"Ready?"
Taylor downed the rest of her champagne, grateful for the warm buzz chasing away the nerves.
“Absolutely.”
Nick’s lips curved into that dangerously charming smile she was beginning to recognize all too well, and together, they wove through the crowd, accepting congratulations, polite handshakes, and thinly veiled curiosity until they reached their host.
Despite the earliness of the evening, Henry Waters’s glassy-eyed stare suggested he’d already made friends with the champagne.
His beady gaze swept over her, lingering just a little too long. “You look beautiful, my dear.”
Taylor smiled politely, but inside, her nerves tightened.
“Doesn’t Taylor look simply fabulous, my dear?”
“Very nice,” Claire agreed flatly, sparing Taylor only the briefest of glances.
Her interest, however, sharpened considerably when she turned to Nick. “Now you, darling, look positively hunky.”
Nick shot Taylor a warning look, but she was already fighting back a laugh.
Henry rubbed his hands together, surveying the room with self-satisfaction. “I’d say anybody who’s anybody is here tonight.”
“Speaking of anybody…” Claire’s voice lowered to a sultry whisper, her gaze locking on someone across the room. She reminded Taylor of a tigress spotting fresh meat. “Look who just walked in. I never thought he’d come. Not all the way from D.C.”
Taylor followed her line of sight, but a tall man in a cowboy hat blocked her view.
Taylor’s grandparents, as well as her parents, had been well acquainted with the Washington social scene, and they’d sent invitations to many of their friends. From the size of the crowd, it appeared most had taken them up on their offer and flown in for the festivities.
Henry didn’t bother to look, but his loud, boisterous chuckle attracted the stares of nearby guests. “Claire, darling, half the people here are from Washington. The room’s crawling with politicians.”
“No more for you.” Claire snatched his champagne flute away. “Daddy, Tony Karelli is on his way over.”
Taylor’s breath caught. "Tony?"
Claire arched a perfectly sculpted brow. “You know him?”
A thousand memories surged forward at once.
Tony Karelli. Her friend. Her secret ally.
“Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.” Taylor frowned, searching her memory. “I guess there could be more than one.”
She and Tony had met as teenagers. Tony had been brilliant and genuinely kind, but a bad case of acne, thick-lensed glasses straight out of the ‘80s, and a little too much baby fat had made him an easy target.
She had befriended him anyway, drawn to his sharp wit and endearing awkwardness. But their classmates hadn’t been so kind. They’d been mockingly dubbed Beauty and the Beast, a cruel nickname that had followed them through high school.
Over the years, they’d lost touch.
Last she’d heard, he was in Europe.
Claire’s dark eyes glittered. Smug. Amused. Knowing.
“His father used to be a senator from New York,” she purred, “and now? He’s the ambassador to Italy.”
Taylor’s breath hitched. “Then it is the Tony I knew?—”
A familiar voice drifted through the crowd. "I wondered if you’d remember me."
Taylor whirled around—and felt her heart leap.
The man standing before her was not the Tony she remembered.
This Tony was tall, broad-shouldered, dangerously handsome.
His brown eyes twinkled with warmth, but his smile?
That was still the same.
Without thinking, Taylor threw her arms around him.
“Tony,” she breathed, as he lifted her off the ground.
"I’m sorry about your father," he whispered. "I wished I could have been there for you."
Taylor swallowed the lump in her throat.
“I know you would have,” she said softly.
And for the first time that evening, she felt something real.
“Why, if it isn’t little Tony Karelli.” Grandpa Bill’s amused voice pulled Taylor from her daze. “See, Kaye, I told you that’s who that was.”
Tony released her and turned to shake her grandfather’s hand, his grip firm. “Judge Rollins, it’s great to see you again, sir. But as you can see, I’m not so little anymore.”
“No, you’re not,” Bill said with a chuckle. “All grown-up now. How’s your father?”
“Busy as ever. He and Mother are still in Italy.”
A warm glow spread through Taylor. As her grandfather quizzed Tony about the last few years, she barely registered Nick’s stiff posture beside her or Claire’s not-so-subtle side glances.
Her grandfather was right. Tony had grown up. The jet-black hair was the same, slightly longer than Nick’s, and his brown eyes held that same warmth she remembered. But everything else…
The acne was gone, leaving behind smooth, tanned skin. The thick glasses had been replaced by contacts, and any traces of baby fat had melted away, revealing a strong, athletic build.
“What happened to your glasses?” Taylor blurted when her grandfather paused for breath.
Tony grinned—something he hadn’t done much in high school. “Contacts. And a little laser surgery.”
Taylor smiled back, genuinely happy for her old friend.
“Isn’t it funny?” Nana mused with a wistful sigh. “You two coming together again after all these years… at Taylor’s engagement party, no less. There was a time we thought it would be you and Taylor tying the knot.”
Taylor barely had time to react before Grandpa Bill shot his wife a look. Nana flushed pink.
“A man would be lucky to have Taylor as a wife.” Tony’s voice was warm but held a note of surprise. “I can’t believe you’re getting married.”
A warmth crept up Taylor’s neck as a thick silence settled between them.
Nick stepped forward, his posture stiff but his smile easy.
“I don’t believe we’ve met.” He extended his hand. “Nick Lanagan. Taylor’s fiancé.” His arm slid around her shoulders— possessive, intentional. “Glad you could make it.”
Tony shifted slightly, but his polished facade remained intact. “Actually, I wasn’t on the guest list. I?—”
“He’s here as my guest, Nick.” Claire cut in smoothly, sidling up to Tony, rubbing against Tony like a cat. “We’re…” Her fingers traced along his sleeve. “Very good friends.”
Taylor’s jaw dropped. She snapped it shut.
Nick’s fingers tightened around her arm. “Sweetheart, I feel like dancing.”
Before she could process what was happening, he whisked her onto the dance floor. The smooth scent of his cologne wrapped around her as she tilted her face up to him.
“Nick, why did—” Her words disappeared as his lips claimed hers.
The kiss was soft, warm, deliberate. A performance. A carefully calculated move.
And for a fleeting moment, Taylor forgot.
It ended just as suddenly as it began.
“What was that for?” she asked, breathless.
Nick’s lips curved into a teasing smile. “Can’t a man kiss his fiancée without having a reason?” But his gaze flickered around the room, scanning for reactions.
And just like that, reality hit her like a slap.
It was all an act.
Taylor swallowed hard and turned her gaze toward the dance floor. Across the room, Claire and Tony barely moved, bodies pressed close, swaying in place. Tony’s dark head bent toward Claire’s, and her manicured fingers toyed with his hair.
“Look at them.” Taylor nudged Nick with her elbow.
He followed her gaze, expression unreadable. “Jealous?”
“No, of course not,” she snapped, though the tightness in her chest begged to differ. “It’s just that Tony’s a good friend.”
Nick’s smirk deepened, infuriating her further. “Don’t you care?”
“Why should I?” He shrugged. “I’m not interested in Claire. If he wants her, more power to him.”
A cold knot formed in Taylor’s stomach. How could Nick be so indifferent? He, of all people, knew exactly what Claire was like.
Her gaze landed on Tony again—just in time to see Claire kiss him.
“I get it now.” Nick’s voice was smug. “You still have a thing for your old boyfriend. You’re worried he might not be available by the time you’re free again.”
“You’re insane.” Taylor’s cheeks burned. Tony had always been a friend, nothing more. Hadn’t he?
“Stay away from him, Taylor.”
Taylor bristled. “Tony thinks we’re engaged. He’d never?—”
“Don’t bet on it.” Nick’s voice was quiet, but his jaw was tight. “I saw the way he looked at you.”
Before she could respond, a familiar voice cut through the tension.
“You two having a good time?”
Grandpa Bill and Nana danced up beside them, smiling warmly.
For a fraction of a second, Nick’s face froze.
Taylor swallowed her frustration and forced a bright smile. “Just wonderful.”
She turned to Nick, her lips curving sweetly. “I was just telling Nick—engagements are fun, but this one can’t end too soon for me.”
Grandpa Bill blinked, then chuckled. “Can’t wait for that honeymoon, eh?”
“Bill!” Nana scolded, but the teasing twinkle in her husband’s eyes didn’t fade.
He clapped Nick on the shoulder. “Can’t say that I blame you, son. Can’t say that I blame you one bit.”