How to Marry Your Frenemy - London Casey Page 0,53
said. “You’re jealous about tonight.”
“Jealous? I don’t get jealous. Just don’t screw this up.”
“Jackson, it’s just a charity event,” I said. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Blah, blah, blah,” he said.
I opened my mouth but stopped.
He wanted to be a dick to me?
Fine.
“You know, jealousy does not look all that good on you,” I said.
“Yeah? Well, neither did any of those dresses,” he said.
“Oh, cheap shot. What are you, fucking twelve?”
He looked at me. “Make sure the dress is tied tight. So your tits don’t pop out like the night you were changing.”
My cheeks filled with burning heat.
I wasn’t sure what happened that night.
If he saw something or not.
So you saw me topless and stormed out… why?
“Wow. This is a deep kind of jealousy, Jackson. So sad to see.”
“Get out of my office, Callie.”
“See you later, hubby,” I said.
Jackson didn’t say a word.
I walked to my office… pissed.
And a little hurt.
I went with the off-white colored dress that Jackson liked best.
Not because he liked it best, but because it was the best fitting and most comfortable. It also had the proper look for the event. It was elegant, not too showy, and would make me blend in.
Which was the goal.
Show up, shake a few hands, smile, and then blend in.
So I could say I was there.
A lot of the people attending were business people.
They could end up being clients of ours.
So this was - in a sense - work.
When I finished getting ready, I poured myself a small glass of that scotch Jackson and I were drinking the night I was trying on dresses.
Again, I started to think about him seeing me… what he saw. What he didn’t see. Why he didn’t make a move. Or the fact that it was a good thing he didn’t make a move.
We couldn’t cross lines here.
This was about money.
Derrick knocked at the door and I charged to chase away thoughts of Jackson.
I opened the door and he stood there in a nice tux, looking handsome like he always did.
“Look at you,” he said.
He leaned down for a kiss and I put my hand to his chest.
“Derrick… we have to talk about this thing between us,” I said.
“Callie, I’m good with anything,” he said. “We can talk about anything. For tonight, can we just go to this thing? I hate these things. My parents parade me around like a trophy, you know? I appreciate you being there. You’re my buffer.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “Just… hands off. It’s a charity thing, right?”
“Right,” he said.
“Plus, I need you to know that-”
I hear a door open and shut.
I looked to my right and there was Jackson.
In a t-shirt and jeans. Arms crossed. The muscles of his forearms twisted and tight.
“Yeah,” Jackson said. “You two going to an event or something?”
“Charity event,” Derrick said.
“See you later, Jackson,” I said.
I grabbed Derrick’s arm and pulled him.
“Later, man,” Derrick called out. “That’s your neighbor?”
“Yeah,” I said. “He’s a pain in the ass. Don’t talk to him. Derrick, we need to talk about something. About us. I need you to know something.”
“Sure,” Derrick said. “What’s up?”
I looked back and saw Jackson staring at me.
Those smoldering eyes.
Those big muscles.
My body shivered inside the dress.
Why didn’t he come into the bathroom and rip the dress off me that night?
The only way to chase that question out of my head was to drink.
And luckily at the charity event there were plenty of drinks.
It was also nice that from the second Derrick and I arrived, he was whisked away by his parents to show his face and his pretty smile.
Every time I tried to talk to him about Jackson, something distracted us.
On the car ride to the event, his parents’ planner called to go over a handful of things, which took the entire ride to the event.
Not that I really cared.
Nothing was going to happen between Derrick and I.
I was more worried about Jackson.
I didn’t like the way he had been acting all day.
So petty and jealous.
This event was in the books long before our fake marriage.
So just fucking deal with it, hubby, okay?
I stood at the bar and helped myself to another drink.
The drinks flowed heavier after I made my rounds meeting everyone I wanted to.
There was Mr. Henley. He was a successful attorney, but his nephew was involved in some exciting techy bullshit, as he put it. Then there was the Gorbains, Henry and his wife, Margaret. They came from old money and