1. Emzee

EMZEE

CHAPTER 1

T hankfully, what Ford couldn’t fix, champagne could. At least temporarily.

I snagged a glass of bubbly off a passing tray, wishing that I could have stayed home and taken a nice bubble bath instead of getting dressed up to celebrate a woman who didn’t even tolerate me, let alone like me.

But I hadn’t come here for the birthday girl.

I had come for her son. For Ford.

As usual, the Malone family had gone all out for their matriarch’s birthday. Ford’s mother never saw an extravagance that she didn’t immediately want for herself, and this party was no exception. It was black tie, of course, and the waiters were all gorgeous young men, wearing bespoke tuxedoes and carrying around equally expensive glasses of booze.

Even though fancy shindigs like this weren’t really my style, I’d accepted the invitation hoping it would at least be fun. Beyond the endless flow of snazzy alcohol, these parties were legendary for how completely ridiculous they could get. The Malones knew everyone in Chicago—everyone worth knowing , as they say—so when they wanted to celebrate, things had a tendency to get crazy. Plus, there were always good anecdotes in the making, like how last year’s soiree had ended in a million-dollar wager over a Connect Four game between the intoxicated CEOs of the city’s two biggest hospitals.

The paparazzi would be waiting outside in droves afterward, hoping to get a shot of some drunk socialite or a couple investment banker bros throwing fists on the sidewalk.

I could already tell tonight was going to be epic, and that was even if no one did anything outrageous. The dinner would be a sit-down affair, as nothing so vulgar as a “buffet” would be appropriate for one of the wealthiest families in Chicago, and no doubt we’d be served the priciest gourmet cuisine money could buy. Followed by, I prayed, equally prime desserts.

Along with the glasses of Dom, there were silver platters circulating, each one covered with tiny, perfect hors d’oeuvres. I passed on the escargots de Bourgogne (snails aren’t my fave, to be honest), but took full advantage of the latkes with caviar, brie en croute, and prosciutto-wrapped shrimp tartlets.

Like a glutton, I ate it all, down to the last crumb. I knew Ford’s mother probably wouldn’t touch a single morsel all night, and took perverse pleasure in knowing that she would probably hate the fact that I was enjoying her birthday food so much.

She didn’t want me there, judging by the way she was glaring from across the room. She’d never liked that Ford and I were friends. My family’s money was new, hers was old, and that was enough to make me trash in her eyes. On top of that, she was likely upset that Ford had brought me as his date tonight instead of his very, very longtime girlfriend, Claudia.

Or rather, his now ex -girlfriend.

I couldn’t say I was sad about the breakup. Even though Claudia and Ford had been together for years and their families had been pushing them to get married almost from day one, I’d never gotten along with Claudia. It was a feeling that was entirely mutual.

She didn’t like me because I was friends with Ford, and we had the kind of close friendship that someone like Claudia said was inappropriate between a man and woman. Not that she was jealous of me, or suspected any kind of infidelity. No, she made it perfectly clear that she didn’t consider me any kind of threat whatsoever…she just didn’t like that Ford spent so much time with me. That he and I shared more common interests than she and Ford did.

In my personal opinion, Claudia was a snobby, judgey bitch with no sense of humor.

Always had been.

I smoothed down my Givenchy gown. It was one of my favorite dresses, a sleek, form-fitting number with one long sleeve. The other sleeve was a simple strap that went across the bodice, then crisscrossed down the fabric in an edgy-artsy subtle design. And of course, my combat boots. Though the floor-length hem mostly covered them.

I also wore a gold bangle pushed up over my bare forearm and a pair of diamond briolette drop earrings that I’d had for years. Even still, I was probably the most modestly dressed woman in the room. The birthday girl, of course, was dripping in jewels, making sure to show every single one of her guests the chunky new diamond bracelet her husband had gifted her.

No doubt if Claudia had been in attendance, she would have been hanging all over Ford, dropping hints that she’d like a bracelet like that. Maybe even a ring to match. Wink, wink.

Ford and I hadn’t talked about it, but I wouldn’t have been surprised if that was one of the main reasons they broke up. I knew Claudia was intent on settling down, and had been especially pushy about them getting engaged ever since her best friend had gotten married last spring, but he’d been dragging his feet for a while.

When he told me they’d split, I’d practically jumped for joy. Then I’d felt guilty. Because the real reason I’d been happy that he’d kicked Claudia to the curb had nothing to do with the fact that Claudia didn’t like me or that Claudia was a sanctimonious mean girl.

It was the fact that I was, and always had been, totally and completely in love with Ford.

He had no idea, of course.

We’d been friends since sophomore year in high school, and I’d developed my crush on him then, but I’d kept my feelings a secret. Continued to keep them a secret. Because I knew that Ford didn’t feel that way about me. He’d always dated girls like Claudia—old-money, tennis-playing, extroverted pretty girls who were just as comfortable riding their ponies at the country club as they were wearing ballgowns in the spotlight, who craved attention and popularity. I knew what he wanted, what he looked for in a woman, and it was not me.

We were just friends. We would always be just friends.

And honestly? That was enough for me. I wasn’t the arm candy type, anyway.

After finishing my second flute of champagne, I retrieved another glass from a passing tray. There was a classical quartet in the corner, and though it wasn’t really dancing music per se, I began swaying in time with the celloist.

I might have been a little tipsy. But I deserved it, didn’t I? After the day I’d had.

Drinking more bubbly, I wondered where Ford had wandered off to.

I’d really hoped the evening would be a distraction from the news I’d gotten from Stefan this afternoon, but the number written on the piece of paper that he’d torn up still haunted me. There was no way we’d be able to pay off the Bratva. Surely they knew this, and I couldn’t help worrying that they were already planning lots of horrible punishments, so they could make an example out of us to others in their network.

I shuddered at the thought.

It wasn’t that I thought Ford would have a solution, it was just that it was killing me to keep it from him. We were friends, we helped each other out. Just like I was helping him this evening by essentially being a shield against his family’s relentless questions about Claudia.

His mom didn’t believe that it was over between them. According to Ford, she kept insisting that he was just looking to sow his wild oats before he finally settled down with Claudia. Despite the fact that he kept insisting just as stubbornly that they were done.

The thing was, I knew Ford’s mother. She never took no for an answer. And if she wanted Claudia and Ford back together, then she’d do everything in her considerable power to make it happen. Hence, my presence tonight. I was here to distract Mrs. Malone as best I could and keep the peace.

I wasn’t exactly sure how I was supposed to accomplish that, unless Ford actually meant for me to annoy his mother (something I could do in my sleep), rather than distract her. At the very least, I’d been eager to spend time with Ford, but my date kept disappearing into the crowd. I knew he was hiding from his family, but the party was decidedly dull without him by my side.

Setting off into the largely older crowd, I tried to mingle. Events like these were usually perfect for shoring up support for my own charity; it was best to get rich people to agree to things while they were drunk and then shame them into their continued generosity later. But this time, I couldn’t even muster the energy to shake down anyone for money.

Suddenly, I spotted an IG influencer who would be a fantastic fit for spreading the word about my charity. She was laughing and drinking and taking pictures of everything—especially herself. I knew I should cross the room and introduce myself. Still, my boots stayed put. I could barely muster the energy for a charming smile, let alone manage a coercive conversation.

Thankfully, that was when Ford chose to reappear.

I always needed a moment to collect myself when I saw him. Regardless of how long we’d known each other, he was just so unbelievably handsome with his mischievous smile, unruly chestnut brown hair, and liquid brown eyes. Plus those adorable deep dimples I was perpetually teasing him about, and that perfect angular jaw. Standing there in his tuxedo, he looked good enough to eat.

In all possible ways.

I sipped my champagne, feeling a flush come over me as my eyes raked over him from head to toe and then back up again. A girl could look, couldn’t she?

“Having fun?” Ford asked, taking a drink from a glass of something that looked way darker and stronger than champagne.

I nodded, even though it was a lie. I was exhausted, and as much as I appreciated the sight of a cleanly shaven Ford in a tux with his hair smoothed back, smelling of cedar-esque cologne, I would honestly rather be spending the evening watching Netflix at home with my best friend, in a well-worn shirt and soft, broken-in jeans. The ones that molded to his ass perfectly.

It was hard to say what part of his body I liked the most. Those broad shoulders were the best for leaning on, and his big, strong arms made for some amazing hugs when they were wrapped around you. I guess he was just all around flawless. He was the kind of guy who took pride in the way he looked. He didn’t spend all day at the gym, but he was athletic and strong.

Then again, I really loved those dimples. Maybe they were the best part of him. I always fought the desire to kiss them.

Aaand I was definitely a little drunk. These were the kinds of thoughts I allowed myself to entertain when I was alone in my bed at night with my trusty vibrator. My only lover, ever.

It was probably a little pathetic, being a virgin at twenty-three, but ever since I secretly gave my heart to Ford back in high school, I hadn’t been able to find anyone that even came close to living up to him and the depth of our relationship. Sure, I’d had a few orgasms with guys, and I loved a good blowjob, but I just wasn’t a casual sex kind of person. I was still stubbornly saving myself for someone I loved. Someone special. I didn’t care that I was being either childishly romantic or stupidly old-fashioned about it. It was my choice.

“Thanks again for coming,” Ford said, but he wasn’t looking at me as he spoke.

His eyes were scanning the crowd. I knew he was looking for his mom, doing his damnedest to avoid her attempts to get him and Claudia back together, but I still felt invisible.

He hadn’t even noticed that I’d been moody all evening—quiet and subdued and lacking my usual snarky sense of humor. It was something he’d normally remark on, but Ford was instead completely focused on himself and on hiding from his family.

Despite that, he seemed to be having a great time.

“Did you see the Bohlins?” he asked with a smirk. “They’re having a massive fight over by the ice sculpture.”

“Which one?” I asked, not really caring.

“The swan.” Ford put his hand on my shoulder—the bare one—and turned me in the direction of the quarreling couple.

I did my best not to shiver at his touch.

“One hundred bucks, Mr. B gets stabbed with the swan’s beak before the end of the evening. I think it’s something to do with the au pair.”

“Their British nanny?” Even though I was annoyed with him, I couldn’t help smiling.

“That’s the one. I’m going to get another drink,” Ford said.

His glass was somehow empty already, but so was mine.

“I’ll get us both a refill,” he said, plucking my glass from my fingers.

I didn’t need another drink and I really didn’t want Ford to abandon me again, but he was gone before I could stop him. Watching him get joyfully waylaid by some friends, I realized he might be gone for a long time. Well. I couldn’t really be mad at him. We weren’t here together on an actual date or anything, so there was no need for him to stay glued to my side.

But that didn’t mean I had to keep torturing myself like this.

No more , I told myself. You can’t keep being his second-string, doing him favors like this left and right. This is the last time.

After tonight, I would have a talk with him. I’d make it clear that we needed to have better boundaries in our friendship, so it involved less of me being constantly at his beck and call and more of a 50-50 thing. I wouldn’t keep running to him at the drop of a hat.

Suddenly, though, Ford was next to me again. He didn’t have anything in his hand, so something must have happened on his way to the bar. It didn’t take long to realize what that was.

His mother, trailed by two of his gossipy aunts and some family friends, was bee-lining straight for us.

“ Shit ,” he said under his breath, before turning on the charming smile I knew so well. “Mother,” he said smoothly as she approached. “Happy Birthday. You look gorgeous.”

“Happy Birthday, Mrs. Malone,” I chimed in.

She ignored me, leaning forward to allow Ford to bestow a kiss on either cheek.

“Goodness, Ford darling, where’s Claudia?” she asked, blinking innocently after making sure to give me a disapproving once-over.

Ford sighed. “Mom,” he said. “I’ve told you a hundred times, we broke up.”

“Did you?” she asked. “I must have forgotten.”

I held back an eye roll at the blatant lie.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Malone turned to her other family members. “Oh, to be young again,” she said. “Don’t you remember all the romantic theatrics we put our parents through?”

“It’s not theatrics,” Ford said.

“Well, of course you’d tell yourselves that, but it doesn’t mean it’s truly over.” His mother pouted, quite the feat for someone who’d had as much plastic surgery as her.

“Please, stop,” Ford said. “Claudia and I are finished. I’m over her and I’ve moved on with my life. I suggest you do the same.”

I felt Ford moving closer to me. This was where the protecting came in—if Mrs. Malone didn’t let up, it would be my job to make up an excuse and politely drag Ford away with me.

“Moved on?” Ford’s mother repeated, her eyes narrowing.

“That’s what I said,” he told her.

And then suddenly, his arm wrapped tight around my waist, and I was being pulled hard against his lean, muscular body.

“I’m with Emzee now.”