Chapter 3
Three
S ybil
How much does Cooper King hate me? On a scale of one to ten, I bet it’s eleven, and I don’t even blame him. He’s certainly let me know how angry he is every time we’ve run into each other.
But I’ll be honest, Cooper was on my mind as I planned Ethan and Arden’s reception.
I’ll have to spend a whole evening with my ex-best friend that hopefully doesn’t end up in another screaming match.
I’m genuinely sad our friendship will never see the light of day.
Things are cordial with Ethan, and that’s good enough for me. But with Cooper? They’re still broken.
Peering around at the reception, pride swells in my chest. I can honestly say I’ve done a job well done.
We were able to snag the ballroom at one of Manhattan’s swankiest hotels by picking a weeknight, and the gold-hued space has been decorated in shades of blue, per the bride’s request, to “match Ethan’s eyes,” she’d said—gag me with a spoon but also… awwww. Everything has been meticulously planned and executed, from the gourmet food to the band to the guest list.
Now all we do is sit back and enjoy.
I’m trying to do exactly that, but my analytical brain hasn’t been able to switch off event-coordination mode.
I’m currently standing against the far wall beside the bar, double checking we’re not running low on champagne, when familiar voices catch my attention.
It’s Cooper King and his father, Conrad King.
Conrad used to scare the absolute shit out of me, and from the way my body tenses, that might still be true.
They’re around the corner in the nearby hall, having what they probably think is a private conversation.
I shouldn’t stay here and listen, but my body stays glued to the spot anyway, my ears prickling.
“Are you going to make the announcement, or am I?” Conrad King asks his son, and my hackles rise.
“You are.” His voice is cold and heartless, lacking the warmth I took for granted for so many years.
“You don’t want to gloat?” Conrad questions, sending a shiver of unease down my spine. I swear, if they do anything to ruin this special evening for Arden and Ethan, I’m going to lose my shit.
“Something like that,” Cooper says. “I’m not really the gloating type.”
“Fine, but remember, the end goal here is King. Always King.”
“Always has been and always will be.”
My stomach hardens. I have half a mind to interrupt them and demand answers.
“Go talk to her,” Conrad adds. “You know what you need to do, son.”
“I don’t want to talk to her. They’re all rotten. The entire Laurence family,” Cooper snips and my ears burn. “Except for Chandler and Arden. But the rest of them are rotten as far as I’m concerned.”
“Make amends with Sybil, or you’ll regret it,” his father insists.
My entire body goes numb.
“I was ready to make amends before her father cost me my leg,” he growls. “I still have phantom pains that will most likely never go away. Do you know what that feels like?”
“Everyone has pain, son.”
Flashes of that day return like a never-ending nightmare. He’s right; my father drove our speedboat into Ethan’s sailboat. I was there. It was the single most terrifying and horrible day of my life. I lost my dad that day, but I also lost so much more…
I lost my sense of trust.
And Cooper lost his leg.
“And don’t forget the way they treated Ethan,” Cooper continues. “The media shitstorm nearly destroyed us, and Sybil willingly participated in that.”
My cheeks heat, shame burning through me.
When my father died, I wanted someone to blame.
Even though I knew Ethan was innocent, I didn’t stop the police from charging him with manslaughter.
Luckily, the charges were dropped, but only after our family almost lost Arden for good. She was livid with us.
“Don’t forget Gregory’s actions that day cost him his life,” Conrad reminds.
“I don’t care. It’s unforgivable.”
My heart aches, and I can’t listen to anymore. I peel off the wall and stumble into the throng of guests, focusing on everyone’s glamourous cocktail attire and fitted designer suites.
“Hey, you. Let’s dance,” my old pal Perry Hargrove says, catching my elbow and stopping me in my tracks.
Perry can be an idiot-ass at times, same as all my guy-friends, but he’s a good person.
He tried to date Arden last summer and ended up making a fool out of himself and Ethan over it.
They had a fight and everything, but they’re fine now.
Not wanting to cause a scene, I nod and let him pull me in for a slow dance.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his dark eyes shining with concern.
I have to look away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“The reception is going well,” he says, changing the subject. “And I look great in this new suit, if I do say so myself.”
I smile, taking in his fitted black suit and the way the white collar of the shirt contrasts against his skin. He’s a gorgeous African American man, so he looks great in anything he wears, but this particular outfit is lethal.
“You do look good,” I muse. “And I look good, too, don’t I?”
He whistles low, taking a tiny step back to make room for roving eyes. I’m in a shiny yellow slip dress, my ode to Andy in How To Lose A Guy in Ten Days . My favorite romcom. I’ve watched it a hundred times, and it still makes me laugh.
“Amazing as ever.”
Just then, Cooper strides up to us, his face set in a determined expression.
“Mind if I cut in?” he drawls.
Perry gives me a sheepish look, his gaze jumping between me and one of his best friends. I widen my eyes at Perry in a don’t you dare expression.
“I don’t know, man,” he says.
I turn on Cooper, glaring daggers. He’s faking this charm. He doesn’t want to talk to me, let alone dance. He’s only here because of his father.
Not happening.
Cooper somehow manages to channel so much fake charisma that I want to vomit as he grins at me with a devil-may-care smirk. “Come on. One dance with an old friend? For old time’s sake.”
I shake my head. I’m not falling for his bullshit.
“Don’t want to dance with a cripple?” He raises his eyebrows.
The blood drains from my face. It’s a low blow to get what he wants, but it works.
“Fine,” I grumble, nodding at Perry to step away.
Cooper grins like he’s won some kind of prize, but I know his grins, and this one is fake.
“Please be careful with me, baby,” he says as he pulls me into his arms, and I get caught on the way that casual baby rolled off his tongue. “I won’t be able to feel it if you step on my right foot.”
The guilt over his leg is all consuming and my face flames.
He chuckles. “I’m joking. Relax, Valentine.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Oh? You like being called baby , then? Is that it?”
Actually, him calling me baby definitely did something, namely to the heat in my stomach, not that I’ll admit it. “Don’t call me anything.”
With a knowing smirk, he tugs me closer until our bodies are pressed together.
At least I don’t have to look him in the eye anymore, but feeling his broad chest against my breasts sends unwanted shivers through my body.
What the hell is wrong with me? The music is too slow and sultry.
He’s too close. That’s what’s wrong. Nothing more.
I catch sight of Ethan and Arden dancing and let that relax me, remembering what this is all for. Those two are currently lost in their own world and having a great wedding reception—all worth it.
Coop and I don’t talk, and I wonder if his “making amends” directive is out the window.
Whatever. I don’t care. But not talking presents another problem.
Specifically, the way our bodies fit together well as we dance.
He’s taller than me, which is good; I’m taller than most guys.
His build is exactly the kind I prefer—athletic and broad without being too bulky.
He’s grown into quite the man. Too bad he thinks I’m vile.
“Could you relax and let me lead?” he gripes into my ear, his mouth a little too close for comfort.
I pin him with my gaze. “Maybe if you did a better job of leading, I wouldn’t have to make up for your lack of dancing skills.”
His eyes narrow. “Are you determined to be a pain in my ass, or does it come naturally?”
That’s rich coming from him. “You were the one who asked me to dance. I was fine with Perry.”
He tugs me in tighter, and I try not to think too hard about the way my breath catches in my throat or the hard plains of his broad chest. He’s bigger than I remember.
“There’s something I need to discuss with you,” he says. “You’re not an easy woman to get a hold of.”
True. I’ve been screening his calls.
“Do you blame me after the way you behaved on New Year’s Eve?”
“That was…” His hand twitches against the small of my back.
“I’m sorry. It was my first night out with this new prosthetic, and everyone was staring like they expected it to fall off.
I got drunker than I should’ve, and honestly, I don’t remember much, but I know I embarrassed myself, and I’m sorry. ”
I blink, a little shocked by the confession and apology. It’s enough for me to dance longer, but not much longer.
“What do you want to talk to me about? You only have about a minute left in this song, so make it quick.”