Zola here apart. She got a side ache from laughing so hard, the poor thing.”
I chanced a look at Matthew, who had by now replaced his sunglasses, though I could still feel his stare drilling into me from beyond the opaque lenses. His shorts were still a bit damp, sticking to his lithe, powerful legs, and his white shirt clung slightly to his shoulders from the remnants of the water. For a moment, I could imagine him climbing out of the pool, muscles gleaming. My heart caught in my chest. And then it moved to my throat when I imagined him making my daughter laugh.
“Oh—oh,” I breathed. “Well, I’m…I’m sorry I missed that.”
“Well, at least you look fabulous,” Mother replied as she leaned back in her chair. She turned to Matthew with a lazy smile. “Isn’t my daughter beautiful, Mr. Zola?”
“Mother,” I muttered. “Please stop before you embarrass yourself.”
“Oh, pish,” Mother replied.
She waved her hand at me, and the bracelets around her wrist clinked together. A decade’s worth of consolation prizes from my missing father.
“Don’t pay attention to her, Mr. Zola,” she said. “She’s more obsessed with propriety than even my dear mother was, may she rest in peace. Won’t put a toe out of line, not ever.”
“Is that right?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I spied a black brow rising over the rim of his glasses.
“Please flirt with her, Mr. Zola. God knows that husband of hers never does.” Mother clicked her tongue, then took another long drink. The motion made the bracelets on her wrist clink again. “My fault,” she said in slightly slurred speech. “I married a man who put an ocean between us. Makes sense Nina ended up with someone just as absent.”
“Mother!” I snapped. “Please stop.”
“You stop. And get a cocktail, for heaven’s sake. You’re at least three behind all of us. Yoo-hoo! Marcus!”
“Yes, madam?” Marcus looked harried, weighed down with a tray full of drinks for the increasing party. I turned my attention fully on the butler in order to avoid the handsome, green-eyed pity I was sure I’d see from Matthew.
“Marcus, Nina needs a cocktail,” Mother said lazily. “She’s a terrible bore without one.”
“Mother, honestly. It’s not even two. And, Marcus, I can just get a sparkling water from the kitchen. You have enough out here—”
“Nina, now you stop it,” Mother interrupted. “This is what we pay him for. Marcus, you know what she always has. Aperol spritz, light on the Prosecco.”
Marcus swallowed, clearly struggling under his tray of drinks. “Of course, madam. If you’ll just wait for me to deliver these, I’ll return with yours—”
“I got it, Marcus.” Matthew interrupted. His thigh brushed against mine as he stood, sending shivers all through me.
“Oh, Mr. Zola, that’s not—”
“Mrs. Astor, it’s really no problem. Anything for such a beautiful woman. And her daughter, of course,” Matthew said, charm dripping from every syllable.
My mother blushed. A woman of fifty-five blushing like a fifteen-year-old schoolgirl.
“Oh, Mr. Zola, it’s Violet. Please.”
I rolled my eyes.
Matthew flashed the crooked grin that made my own stomach drop. “It’s no problem. I happen to make an excellent cocktail. Shall I make us a couple too?”
“Yes, please!” Mother replied, fanning herself.
He nodded. “If you’ll follow me, Mrs. Gardner, I’ll get you that drink.”
And just like that, the swirling in my stomach clenched into a tight fist of dread. How could a name affect me so? It was just a name, but coming from him…oh, I couldn't bear it.
Call me duchess, I wanted to beg him. Doll. Nina. Anything but Mrs. Gardner.
Instead, I followed Matthew silently through the crowd to the cocktail cart by the patio entrance. He spent a few minutes locating the ingredients for my drink. I leaned against the cart, enjoying the way he kept darting quick glances from the sides of his glasses at my legs. Matthew always did like my legs.
“You. Little. Tease.”
The words were barely audible over the clink of the ice. But I could hear them. Just for me.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” I murmured back.
The quick, dark glance over his glasses made the pool of desire in my belly splash again before he went back to pouring Aperol and soda.
“I thought we were done playing games, doll,” he said, overly focused on our drinks. “We had an agreement. Keep our distance, no matter what. And then you walk out in that.”
I looked down at my body, then back up at him. “It’s just a swimsuit.”