Talking Dirty with the CEO - By Jackie Ashenden Page 0,47
lines around her mouth, around her eyes. “They’re not interested in you, right?”
A glossy russet curl swung over Christie’s shoulder as she turned away from him. “No,” she said in a muffled voice. “I don’t care about parties or gossip. I’m not some big success. I’m not anything according to them. Pathetic, huh?” Her fingers gripped the envelope. “But that’s okay. I don’t care what they think. I really don’t. And I’m not going to their party.” She tossed the invite aside without even bothering to open it.
She didn’t care? As if he believed that for a second. He wasn’t blind. And her family had hurt her, that much was obvious.
Abruptly he remembered the photo he’d seen on the web. Of Christie looking awkward in her party frock, with her mother standing by. Trying to fit in.
Oh Naughtygirl, I bet you tried. I bet you tried so hard. But you never quite managed, did you?
He decided he didn’t like her family. At all.
His fingers, already searching for something to play with, had found the envelope and were currently turning it over and over.
Christie noticed. “Here, give me that.”
But he didn’t. Curious, he opened the envelope and pulled out the invite instead.
“Joseph, give it back.”
He flipped it open just as Christie made a lunge for it, grabbing it out of his fingers.
But not before he’d seen the names written on the inside.
“So,” he said softly, “when were you going to tell me I’d been invited, too?”
…
Christie wanted to sink through the mattress, onto the floor, and then with any luck out the other side.
Failing that, tearing up her mother’s invitation into small pieces seemed a viable alternative. God, that was just typical for Helene to courier the stupid thing to her. And of course Joseph would have picked it up. And read what was inside.
He must think she was mad.
“You haven’t been invited, at least not really.” She scrunched the invite up. It didn’t crumple as satisfyingly as she would have liked.
“Yes, I have. That was my name on it.”
She could feel her cheeks beginning to flush for the fifty millionth time that day and she wished she could just unzip her skin and step out of it. Be free of herself for once. But there was no escape. There never was.
Christie held the balled-up invite in her hands, staring down at it for a second, gathering her courage. Then she looked Joseph in the eye. “Here’s the deal. Mum thinks I’m a loser when it comes to men. She’s always trying to fix me up with someone. Or even better, get back with my ex. I hate it. So I told her I already had a boyfriend.”
The expression on his face was unreadable. “Me?”
“Uh, no. I told her that before I met you. The night I asked you for a date.”
“And do you actually have a boyfriend?” Something dangerous gleamed in his eyes.
Christie swallowed. “No, of course I don’t. I wouldn’t be here with you if I did. I just…pretended I had one so she’d get off my back about Greg.”
The dangerous glint remained. “Who’s Greg?”
“My ex.” She squeezed the paper in her hands. “My family loves him. In fact, I think they liked him more than they like me.”
The expression on Joseph’s face became forbidding. “He sounds like a prick. Did you ditch him?”
Christie bent her head, unable to bear the look in his eyes. Not wanting to admit what had happened with Greg. God, why couldn’t she lie? It would be so much easier. “Kind of,” she said thickly. “He ch-cheated on me.”
Joseph bit off a curse. “I knew it. He was a prick then.”
He sounded so savage, Christie couldn’t help glancing at him. The look on his face promised murder. And for some weird reason the stone sitting in the middle of her chest felt lighter.
“Anyway,” she went on, “your name is on the invite because my mother rang this morning and demanded a name from me. So I just said the first one that came into my head.”
Joseph stared at her for an intense minute. “And that was mine.”
Christie swallowed. “Yeah. It was yours.”
“So why don’t you take me, then?”
“W-what do you mean?”
“I’m invited to the party. Bring me along.”
“But….”
“Why not? I’m rich. I’m successful. I’ve been told I’m moderately handsome.” His expression softened and he grinned. “Why not make use of that? Why not show your mum just how much of a loser you are with men?”
Her throat tightened. “But you’re not my boyfriend.”
“I could