Chapter 7
LIZA
The yacht club looked like something out of a magazine spread about how the other half lived.
All gleaming wood and polished brass. More of those floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the harbor where boats bobbed gently in their slips.
Waiters in crisp white jackets circulated with trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres that were probably called something French and pretentious.
I walked in on Darek’s arm, trying to look like I belonged there, trying not to think about what had almost happened in my closet an hour ago.
The almost-kiss.
The way his hands had felt on my body with an intimacy that had nothing to do with helping me zip up a dress. The way he’d leaned in and then I leaned in. The heat flared between us so intensely I had forgotten my own name.
The man was too hot for my own good. That was the problem. I’d spent the last hour in the car trying to convince myself that the almost-kiss had been nothing. It was all in my head. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About him.
And dammit, he smelled so good. Crisp. Was that a smell? Crisp like a cold winter morning when you inhaled through your nose. It just woke you up.
I was drawn to him even though I had insisted nothing physical would happen between us. I made sure it was literally written into the contract I had signed. I was starting to regret that decision.
That man had lit me on fire with just a simple, basically innocent touch. What could he do if he had all night? What could he do if I let him?
Stop it, I told myself firmly. Get your head in the game. You’re here to play a role, not to fantasize about your employer.
“You okay?” Darek asked quietly as we made our way through the crowd. His hand was in the small of my back, guiding me through the sea of unfamiliar faces.
“Fine. Just taking it all in.”
“Overwhelming?”
“A little.” That was an understatement. Everything about the place was overwhelming. The opulence, the casual wealth on display, the way everyone seemed to know each other and move through the space with the confidence of people who’d never doubted their right to be anywhere.
I was a nerdy scientist who wanted to swim with whales, not socialize with these sharks.
We approached a small group of people, three men in expensive suits and two women in dresses that were very obviously designer. Darek made introductions that I immediately forgot, too busy trying to smile and nod at the right moments while my brain screamed that I didn’t belong here.
“And this is Liza,” Darek said, his hand still on my back. “My girlfriend.”
The word sent a little thrill through me that I absolutely should not have felt.
“Lovely to meet you,” one of the women said. I didn’t miss the scrutinizing gaze. I was so glad I had spent the money on the dress. If I would have shown up in any of my regular wardrobe, I would have stuck out like a sore thumb. “That’s a beautiful dress.”
“Thank you.” I smoothed down the fabric self-consciously.
“Darek’s been keeping you hidden,” one of the men said with a jovial laugh that seemed forced. His face was red, whether from exertion or alcohol, I couldn’t tell. “Where did you two meet?”
I opened my mouth, suddenly panicking because we hadn’t actually discussed our cover story in detail, but Darek stepped in smoothly.
“Through mutual friends in New York. Liza’s working on her PhD in marine biology. It keeps her pretty busy.”
“How fascinating,” the woman said in a tone that suggested it was anything but. “And you’re staying in Maine now?”
“For a while.” I tried to channel confidence I didn’t feel. “It’s perfect for my research.”
“How convenient.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes.
Judgy bitch.
The conversation continued, small talk about boats and summer plans and people I didn’t know. I smiled and nodded and tried to look engaged while internally cataloging everything I hated about the stupid party.
These were the people Darek wanted to impress?
What a waste. Half of them were obnoxious old drunks, red-faced and too loud, holding court about their latest purchases or their vacation homes or whatever other displays of wealth they thought made them interesting.
The other half were their perfectly preserved wives, who’d clearly had work done and wore their designer clothes like armor.
And despite all the pretty outward appearances, they were still jerks.
Money couldn’t buy class.
But it could buy groceries. It could pay rent. It could fund a dissertation and pay off student loans and give me a future that didn’t involve eating croutons for dinner. So I needed to get my head in the game and be the charming little girlfriend he paid for. I couldn’t afford to get fired.
We moved from group to group, saying the same stupid drivel. But I went with it.
After an hour, we ended up at a table near the windows. Darek grabbed us both champagne from a passing waiter, and I took a grateful sip.
“You’re doing great,” he said quietly.
“I feel like a fraud.”
“That’s because you are a fraud. We both are.” He smiled and sipped his champagne. “But nobody here knows that.”
“How do you stand these people?”
“Years of practice. And remembering that most of them are potential customers.”
“So this is all just business?”
“Everything is business. I find most of these events tedious. Necessary but tedious.”
I was about to respond when I saw her approaching.
Even in a room full of overdressed rich people, she stood out.
Bleached blonde hair that looked frozen.
Big red lips that were definitely enhanced with fillers, and breasts that had clearly been purchased from a very good plastic surgeon.
She wore a white dress that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.
If she sneezed, her tits would fall out and the short hem would expose her hoo-hah.
And I kind of thought that was the goal.
She moved through the crowd like she owned the place.
The man beside her was older, maybe fifty, with silver hair and a deep tan that came from spending too much time on boats. He had his hand possessively on her back. And they were headed straight for us.
“Sasha,” Darek said in a voice that was icy enough to send shivers down my spine.
Then the name hit me.
Oh shit.
His ex-wife. The woman who had abandoned him and Daisie three years ago.
The yacht club was about to get real trailer park. I wasn’t sure whether to run or start filming for posterity.
“Darek.” Sasha’s voice was sugary sweet. Her eyes slid to me with her enhanced top lip curling back. “Who’s this?”
“Sasha, this is Liza. My girlfriend.” Darek’s voice was calm. “Liza, this is Sasha. And Grant Waverly.”
I extended my hand, trying to be polite even though every instinct told me this woman was bad news. “Nice to meet you.”
She looked at my hand like I was offering her a dead fish, then gave it the briefest possible shake. “How… unexpected. I didn’t know you were seeing anyone, Darek.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about my life anymore.” His tone was calm, but there was steel underneath. “Grant.”
Grant nodded, puffing up slightly. “Good to see you, Sullivan.”
“This is my boyfriend,” Sasha said.
“Congratulations.” Darek’s voice held absolutely no emotion. He might as well have been commenting on the weather.
I studied him, looking for any sign that he still had feelings for this woman. But there was nothing. He looked at Sasha the way you’d look at a stranger on the street. Polite disinterest and nothing more.
That, at least, made me feel better.
Sasha’s smile tightened. “You certainly didn’t waste any time moving on.”
“It’s been three years, Sasha.”
“Still, I’m surprised you have time for a relationship, given how devoted you are to your work.” The words were barbed, clearly meant to wound. “Or has that changed? Are you actually making time for people now?”
“I make time for what matters.” Darek’s hand found mine under the table, squeezing gently. Whether for my benefit or his, I couldn’t tell.
“How sweet.” Sasha’s eyes narrowed on our joined hands. “And what do you do, Liza?”
“I’m a PhD candidate. Marine biology.”
“Oh, how academic.” The way she said it made it sound like an insult.
I smiled at her. “Don’t worry, Sasha. Some of us chase degrees and others chase men who pay for the plastic I want to keep out of the ocean.”
The woman’s mouth dropped open. I heard Darek choke. Grant glared at me.
“I can recommend my esthetician,” Sasha replied. “You could use a little help around the eyes. You really shouldn’t squint so much. Premature wrinkling.”
“Sweet tip. Though if I wanted advice from someone held together with glue and a prayer, I’d visit a craft fair.”
Grant cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Well, this has been nice, but we should—”
I felt my face heat with embarrassment and anger. I didn’t want any part of this drama. This was exactly the kind of petty, mean-girl bullshit I’d spent my entire life trying to avoid. I was too old to get into a pissing contest with his ex-wife.
I pushed my chair back, needing to be literally anywhere else. “Excuse me, I need to use the restroom.”
I stood up too quickly, already turning away from the table, not watching where I was going. I bumped into something solid, heard a crash, and suddenly the world exploded in champagne and broken glass.
I had walked directly into a waiter carrying a full tray of champagne flutes and sent the whole damn thing flying.
The champagne hit an elderly woman, drenching her cream-colored dress and making her gasp with shock. Glass shattered on the floor around us.
The entire room went silent.
Every single person turned to stare at me, the woman who’d just dumped champagne all over Mrs. Someone-Important in the middle of the yacht club’s cocktail party.
“Oh my god.” I rushed toward the woman, pulling napkins from a nearby table. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see him.”
“It’s quite all right, dear,” the woman said.
It wasn’t okay. Her dress was absolutely ruined.
Staff appeared from everywhere, cleaning up glass, offering towels, ushering the woman away to somewhere she could get cleaned up. I stood in the middle of it all, mortified beyond the capacity for rational thought.
I had embarrassed myself. Worse, I had embarrassed Darek in front of all his friends and customers and his awful ex-wife, who was loving every second of my disaster.
So much for being the charming girlfriend.
Darek appeared at my side, his hand on my elbow. “Come on. Let’s get you some air.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Not here. Outside.”
I was so getting fired.
But at least I had rice and beans in my pantry. I dared him to come and try to take the food.