His Off Limits Best Friend - Vivian Wood Page 0,56

whom she’d met before, or step back as she admired their shoes or dresses.

After awhile, he saw the Circle of Crones, as he called them, swoop in on her. They were ancient, even by his father’s definition. The matrons of the DC donor crowd, they, or their husbands, were extraordinarily wealthy. When they gave, it was generous. However, to pry that money from their talons was a nearly impossible feat.

He could tell, even from across the room, that they’d started to grill her mercilessly. Connor felt a wave of protectiveness and made a dash across the ballroom to save her. He didn’t care that he left his own conversation somewhat abruptly.

“Do you mind if I steal my bride-to-be for a moment?” he asked the old women as he plastered on a smile.

“By all means,” one of the blue hairs said, and gestured them off with a flick of her gem-encrusted bony fingers.

Connor glanced down and expected a thankful smile from Sam. But all she gave him was a stony expression. Damn. I’d started to expect that smile.

He took her hand and pulled her to a quiet corner of the ballroom. “Sorry,” he stammered. “I, um, I thought you could… you know, use some rescuing there—”

“Have you got your money’s worth from me yet?” she asked coldly.

Connor pulled back. It felt like he’d been slapped. “What?”

“Well, it’s clear you have a specific idea of how your ‘fiancée’ is supposed to behave. So, I’m just wondering, how am I doing?”

“Uh, good?” he asked. This was new territory and she clearly had the advantage. Though he didn’t know how or what that meant. “Sam, I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s not you, it’s me.”

She gave a harsh laugh. “That line? Really? Wow, okay. Although, maybe you’re right. Because it certainly is you.”

“I know!” he said, then glanced around when he realized a couple of people had jumped at his voice. “I know, okay? I just… I don’t like the idea of being too emotionally involved.”

“Maybe you should have thought about that before taking me to Monaco and fucking me for four days,” she whispered to him.

“I know,” he agreed. “That was a mistake.”

Her eyes widened.

“I don’t mean that. You weren’t a mistake. Jesus Christ. I mean, it was a mistake of me… doing that. It shouldn’t have happened. Look, I don’t—I’ve never liked the idea of being tied down.”

“Oh, now I’m tying you down?” she asked. “You’re the one who was engaged before. Not me. So, clearly, you do like being tied down. Just not with me.”

His head spun. He couldn’t keep track of what was happening, especially since her words seemed to make sense. “Listen, I want you to understand—”

“I understand perfectly,” she said as she shot him a scathing look.

“I don’t think you do,” he said. “When I came up with this crazy idea of hiring you, I’ll admit it was totally impulsive. That’s not what I had in mind when I came to your work. I was pissed off, and it seemed like a good idea at the time, and I—”

“And you just thought you’ve bought everything else in life. Why not a fiancée? I’m a fucking moron,” she said as she shook her head.

“Let me explain,” he said. “And it’s not you. I took advantage of the whole thing.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “And I let you. Can I go now?” she asked, like she was asking permission from a parent. “I have a headache.”

“Can I just try to get you to understand?”

“I read once that after twenty minutes, there’s no point in talking or arguing anymore. Both parties have said all they can say at that particular time. So please, will you just let me go? You can make up whatever story you like to tell these people.”

He sighed and looked around. Nobody watched them. It was like they didn’t exist. “I’m not your keeper,” he told her.

“Could have fooled me,” she said and headed toward the door.

He watched her leave, and felt like an asshole. How could you do something that would make her react like this?

“Connor, where’s the fiancée off to?” One of the donors, already drunk, wrapped his arm around Connor’s shoulders and leaned into him.

“Women stuff,” Connor said. “You know how it is.”

“Actually, I don’t,” the donor said.

“Excuse me?”

“Gay. Remember?” he asked and wiggled his brows at Connor.

“Oh, yeah. Well, consider yourself lucky.”

“Right,” the donor said, suddenly pissed off. “Because it’s so hard being a straight, white, rich male.” He wandered off, and Connor berated himself. How