9. Emzee

EMZEE

CHAPTER 9

I couldn’t have picked a better setting for ending my fake relationship with Ford than the Investment Ball.

Heads had turned the moment we entered the ballroom, and the first person we’d run into was his delightful Aunt Miri, with whom I’d chatted during the dinner at Travelle.

“You’re glowing,” she had said to me. “I’m so glad you both could make it.” Then she fawned over my dress, complimenting my style so much that I blushed.

Part of the reason I was “glowing” was because of the attention Ford was giving me. Even knowing that this was going to be the end of our charade, that we’d soon go back to being just friends, that this night would be the last time I’d feel the warmth of his hand in mine.

We mingled for a few more minutes, and everyone was pleasant. I had to admit, the event was already going better than I’d anticipated. Ford looked beyond GQ-handsome in his perfectly tailored tux, and for once, I felt evenly matched in my brand-new gown. Considering that this was going to be our last night out together as a “couple,” I’d gone all out, begging my contact at Prada to express mail me one of their latest designs in my exact measurements. It fit like a dream. I felt like one of the models I’d spent my whole life around.

Minus the whole height thing.

It didn’t make sense that I’d ended up so pocket-sized, given that both of my parents were tall. Almost as though all the height in our family had already been distributed to Stefan and Luka before I was even born. But despite it bothering me when I was little, I had to admit that after getting picked on in school, I’d developed a distinct appreciation for being able to blend in a little more easily. To fold in on myself and become invisible when necessary.

But tonight, in this dress, in these heels (also new), Ford couldn’t stop staring at me. And as I sipped a flute of champagne, I was happy to bask in the attention. After all, Cinderella had enjoyed the ball right up until the magic ran out at midnight, too. There was no point in wasting all these dances and drinks anticipating anything other than the joy of whirling around the floor in the arms of Ford Malone.

Tonight, I was going to savor every moment we had together. I wasn’t going to think about tomorrow, when we’d be back to business as usual.

This was my chance to live the dream.

Ford was the perfect date. My champagne glass was never empty, my hand always clasped in his. We danced almost every dance together, and he made me feel like I was the center of his world.

“You are killing it in this dress,” he whispered in my ear as we spun across the dance floor, trailing his fingers up and down my spine until I shivered.

The back of my gown was open and cut low, almost obscenely so, and apparently the bare skin of my back was too enticing for Ford to keep his hands off it. Which I didn’t exactly mind, even though I was far more exposed than I’d usually be comfortable with. But something about this outfit tonight made me feel powerful and confident. Maybe it was the dress, or the fuck-me heels, or having Ford as an accessory on my arm. Probably all of the above.

I didn’t want it to end.

But I knew that it had to.

It was nearing midnight when I noticed Ford’s parents making their overtures to leave. Ford’s father hovered near Mrs. Malone, making little tutting noises while she said her lengthy goodbyes. Mrs. Malone could hold him off for a few more minutes, but not much longer.

I could tell that Ford had noticed as well, judging by the way he stiffened in my arms. We were waltzing when it happened, so I sensed that once the song was over, so was the fairy tale.

We couldn’t put it off any longer.

The song ended, and Ford squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. Even though I’d basically been a puddle of longing all night, it made me melt a little more. I knew this couldn’t be easy for him.

As much as I’d been frustrated with Ford’s decision to lie to his parents, I understood it. He hated disappointing them; he thought the responsibility of his family’s happiness was on his shoulders. It had always been that way. Not that he’d ever directly told me that, and maybe he didn’t even admit it to himself, but we’d been friends for seven years and I knew I wasn’t wrong. It had always been clear to me that he had that magical thinking of so many children of unhappily married parents—that if he was just good enough, he could somehow fix them.

As we crossed the room toward the Malones, I wished I could pull him to the side and tell him he was enough. That nothing he did could ever change how his parents treated each other—or how they treated him—but that life shouldn’t be about trying to live up to the expectations of other people. Maybe that was a conversation for another day.

Hand in hand, we reached Ford’s parents. His mother’s eyes lit up at the sight of him, but that excitement quickly dimmed when her gaze turned toward me.

“Oh, Emzee,” she said dourly. “I didn’t realize you were still here.”

“Mother—” Ford warned.

“We were just about to leave,” Mr. Malone cut in. “Good to see you again, Emzee. I hope you’ll have a pleasant remainder of the evening.”

“Do we really have to go so soon?” his mother whined.

“Actually,” Ford said, interrupting them, “I’m glad I caught you before you head out. I wanted to speak to you about?—”

“Caught us!” his mother scoffed. “You’ve been ignoring us all evening. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you dance at one of these events before, and now all of a sudden you’re Fred Astaire.”

I didn’t say anything, just gave Ford’s hand a squeeze. Encouraging him. But before he could get another word out, his father was looking past both of us.

“Ah, Claudia,” he said. “We were wondering if we’d see you tonight.”

My stomach dropped, and Ford’s grip suddenly tightened on mine.

Adrenaline kicking, we turned around to find Ford’s ex-girlfriend standing there, looking absolutely radiant as always. Tall, blonde, blue-eyed, and flawlessly, haughtily gorgeous. In fact, even though we were both wearing black dresses and heels, her ensemble somehow made my brand new Prada outfit feel downright shabby. Maybe it was Claudia’s height; I always felt like I shrank down to nothing when I stood next to her.

Not only that, but without actually uttering a single unkind word, she always managed to make me feel just like I did as the high school whore everyone hated. Out of place and unwanted.

“Claudia,” Ford’s mother crooned, her expression softening as she pulled Claudia in for a hug. “It’s so good to see you. You’re an absolute vision in that gown. The belle of the ball.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Malone,” Claudia said, her voice sickly sweet. “And you look stunning, as always. I’m so sorry to have missed your fête. I heard it was quite an affair.”

I mean seriously, who called a birthday party a “fête”? Claudia, that’s who.

Ford’s mother preened, but I could tell her smile was genuine. “How kind of you to say so, my dear. You were sorely missed.”

Just like the old days, both of them were standing inches away and yet completely ignoring me. Treating me like I was, well, a piece of the furniture. I gritted my teeth, still wearing my perfect party guest smile.

The worst part was that Claudia did look like the belle of the ball. Her dress plunged down to her sternum in the front, but the cut was so narrow that you only got the barest hint of cleavage. Classy. Her hair fell in silky waves to her shoulders, a lock falling artfully into her eyes, and her lips were siren red. She looked like one of those glamorous Hollywood starlets from the 1940s. Her lashes had to be a foot long, and she kept batting them in Ford’s direction.

Our differences were once again thrown into high relief. Claudia obviously wanted to be seen and was comfortable shining in the spotlight. I just wanted to hide. If this was the kind of woman that Ford liked, it was beyond stupid to think that I’d ever had a chance at capturing his heart, let alone his libido.

I wanted nothing more than to run out of there, but Ford was still holding my hand.

“I wasn’t sure about the dress,” Claudia was saying, turning right and left with her hands on her hips to show off the swish of the voluminous skirt. “I thought it might be too much.”

“Oh never,” Ford’s mother said. “It’s just right for black tie.”

“What do you think?” Claudia turned toward us, still ignoring me. “Do you like it, Ford?”

She put a hand on his arm. I suppressed a growl. Ford didn’t answer.

“Oh! Hello, Emzee,” Claudia said, finally acknowledging me. “I didn’t see you there. You look…very nice. It’s so cute you two are here together.”

I felt another growl building. Claudia always reminded me of a mannequin, so put together that it seemed very possible she had been created in an atelier rather than being born like a normal baby in a hospital. I hated how easily she could make my beautiful couture dress seem common and cheap. How easily she could make me —and my relationship, fake though it might be—feel common and cheap.

Ford cleared his throat. “We were just about to have a word with my parents,” he said to Claudia. “So if you wouldn’t mind excusing us for a few moments…”

Before Claudia could take the hint and sashay off to sparkle at someone else, Ford’s mother put a protective hand on Claudia’s arm and said, “That’s right. What were you and Emzee about to tell us, dear?”

I wished we didn’t have to do this in front of Claudia. I knew she would consider it a personal victory to know that Ford and I weren’t together anymore. That our relationship had barely lasted a week.

But I also knew it had to be done. We couldn’t keep pretending this way.

“What is it?” Mr. Malone asked, pointedly checking the time on his Breitling watch.

I couldn’t blame him. He didn’t seem all that interested in spending time with Claudia, either.

Ford gave my hand a squeeze and I smiled reassuringly up at him.

“Emzee and I had a long discussion…” he started.

“A discussion?” Claudia echoed.

“And?” Mr. Malone prodded.

“Yes?” his mother asked.

“And, uh—we’re getting married!” Ford said. “Surprise!”

Their jaws collectively dropped to the floor. Meanwhile, my good party guest smile was frozen on my face.

Surprise? No one, and I mean no one, was more surprised than me.