Chloe #2
“You should probably stop by and say something to Mrs. Dawson,” Reid suggests. “And there are a couple of big shareholders who—”
“Reid. Relax.” Tristan grips his brother’s shoulder. “It’s a party, not a conference.”
His brother makes a face but relents. Tristan leads me across the room, toward a table where a few of his other brothers are sitting. Reid falls in step beside him.
As we walk over the dance floor, I let my gaze sweep the room.
My family’s half of the guest list was a known quantity, but there are plenty of unfamiliar faces in the room who the Thornes must have invited.
To my displeasure, I spot Iris Burnham on the other side of the room.
I recognize her as Tristan’s ex from his social media pages.
She looks stunning. Her fitted maroon dress complements the coppery highlights in her red hair, which falls on either side of her high cheekbones.
What the hell is she doing here?
I bite my lip, my hands tightening involuntarily into fists. Did the Thornes have to invite his ex to our engagement party? I mean… sure, I know this is all for show, but it bothers me that his ex is here. I feel like I should’ve been able to veto a few of their choices.
I’m debating whether I should pull him aside to complain about it when a raised voice cuts over the murmur of the crowd.
“Tristan! Hey!”
A spike of fear shoots through me at the sound of that all-too-familiar voice. My heart drops. It’s Spencer Noble.
I definitely should’ve been able to veto some of these guests.
Tristan smiles, lifting a hand as if, for some ungodly reason, he’s actually happy to see Spencer fucking Noble. My chest tightens. For a terrible moment, it’s almost impossible to breathe.
Fuck, how do I breathe?
He looks exactly the way I remember. He seems like he hasn’t aged a day since I last saw him.
His blond hair is styled the same way he’s always kept it, buzzed short on the sides.
With his chiseled jaw and straight nose, he looks like he just stepped out of a magazine. Or possibly one of my nightmares.
“How’s it going?” Tristan asks as Spencer approaches.
Spencer shrugs. “Can’t complain.”
His hazel eyes drop to me, and for a moment, our gazes lock. Then I glance away, my stomach curdling. I can’t stomach looking at him for long.
“Chloe, this is Spencer Noble,” Tristan says, not noticing my sudden discomfort. “A friend of mine from Wharton. You two probably crossed paths at some point. We were all there at the same time.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m pretty sure we’ve met,” Spencer says, his voice cavalier.
As if he barely remembers me. As if I’m nothing more than a blip on his radar, even though I remember everything about him. He might have changed my life forever, but apparently, I made little impact on him. That fact bothers me. Deeply. But I do my best to keep a polite mask up.
We’re still at a party, and I can’t make a scene here. Or anywhere, for that matter. All I have to do is grit my teeth and get through this, and then I can go home to my apartment and take a long bath. Scrub my skin until I’m clean of him again, if such a thing is even possible.
“Hello, Spencer,” I say coolly.
To my relief, I’m spared from a lengthier conversation with him by Ivy Langford.
She rushes over to us, beaming from ear to ear.
Her shoulder-length hair is styled in an elaborate updo, and wavy, blonde tendrils hang down at her temples, framing her face.
She wears a dark, hunter green dress that flares out a bit at her curves, accentuating her full figure.
Silver earrings and a herringbone necklace decorate her ears and neck.
She has a shy elegance about her, like she has no idea how stunning she looks.
“Hi! Tristan, Chloe—oh my gosh, your dress is amazing. It’s beautiful!”
I can’t help but grin. In a male-dominated space like this one, it’s nice to have a little influx of female energy.
“This is my brother, by the way. Jackson Langford.” She gestures to the man standing next to her.
He’s almost a full foot taller than her, with chestnut-brown hair that sweeps down over his forehead.
His suit is made from the same material as her dress.
Even though they don’t look much alike, it’s easy to tell that they’re siblings.
“Jackson, this is Chloe Dawson, Tristan’s fiancée. ”
Jackson inclines his head. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a bit about you.”
The hair rises on the back of my neck as Tristan leans close to me and murmurs, “Jackson is an old family friend.”
I can barely hear him. He may be close to me, but he’s on the wrong side. I’m more focused on the warmth of his breath against my skin. I swallow, determined to hide my slight shiver.
“Spencer and I are going up to the bar,” he adds. “You want me to grab you anything?”
I shake my head, still determined to keep my wits about me. He shrugs.
“Suit yourself.”
As Tristan and Spencer walk off, Ivy speaks again.
“It’s nice to have another woman around,” she says, echoing my previous thoughts.
“I grew up around these guys”—she gestures toward her brother and the Thornes, who have gotten up from their seats to approach us—”and that’s a little too much masculinity for me, you know? ”