One for the Money

Emerson leans back, unbothered by my father’s aggression. People may underestimate him because he’s an art collector, but he had a hard childhood. It taught him to be strong in the face of bullies, even rich ones.

“You can’t give me what’s already mine,” he says.

Shit.

I stand up and put my hands out. “Listen.”

Even Tiernan looks pissed at Emerson now, which isn’t a good sign. He had a falling out with my father, but the truth is, he can’t so easily shed the position as his watchdog. And who knows what Lucian would do if a fight broke out. He’d be a wild card.

My father growls something that should not be repeated in polite company, and Emerson gets to his feet.

Daphne gives me a panicked look.

Fuck.

“I have an announcement to make,” I say, loud enough that the whole room stops to look at me. I take a deep breath, the same way I did before I exited the limo. This family is crazy and a little bit violent, but they’re mine. “An important one.”

And I have the next ten seconds to think of something.

There is no actual announcement. It’s just that they were going to fight, and I’m the person who breaks up the fights. The person who stops them from happening. The person who diffuses a thousand different situations in my family. Which means I need to think of something big enough to distract them from punching each other about Daphne’s wedding.

“We’re engaged,” Finn says, standing up, his hand going around my waist.

Stunned, I let him pull me close to his side.

My brothers look pissed. My dad looks genuinely shocked. My mother’s about to swoon.

Silence lands in the dining room for a taut few seconds—one, two, three.

And then all hell breaks loose.

Chapter Fourteen

Finn

I finally take Eva to the fancy restaurant on the Upper East Side.

No illegal poker club. No underground boxing match. I did consider taking her to a drag race, but I decided to mix things up. Candlelight and Wagyu steak will keep her on her toes. The maître d’ escorts us to the best seat in the house.

People glance at us on our way to our seats.

That’s the reason why people come to this restaurant. The gourmet food and the Michelin-starred chef? They’re like popcorn at a movie theater. Someone is probably tweeting about us right now. A blurry side shot of us walking will make its way onto TikTok.

That’s what it means to be a Hughes dating a Morelli in New York City.

Of course we’re not fake dating anymore.

We’re fake engaged, which Eva is not happy about.

She barely said two words to me the rest of dinner. Her response to my invitation was pleasant but not particularly enthusiastic. I’m sure we’ll talk about it.

A waiter comes over, all ingratiating solicitude.

Her expression is carefully blank as she examines the wine menu. “The 2016 Produttori del Barbaresco,” she says, handing him the heavy leather-bound list.

“Scotch,” I tell him. “Neat.”

I don’t usually drink it before dinner, but there’s a cool reserve in Eva that makes me think I’m going to need it. There’s at least a fifty-percent chance that she’s going to tell me she’s done. Done with playing pretend. Done with the fake dates. I know I shouldn’t care. We mostly did it to get her mother off her back, though being spared some of my mother’s prodding has been nice. She doesn’t live in the country, most of the time, but she can still text plenty of mom guilt about my lack of progeny. I shouldn’t care if Eva wants to stop fake dating me, but the thought of it makes lead sink in my stomach.

The waiter bows slightly and leaves us.

A tense minute follows.

“What the hell were you thinking?” she finally says.

“You’re welcome,” I say, mostly because I know it will annoy her. I don’t know why I’d want to annoy her, except anything is better than that cool indifferent mask. And it is a mask. I know it is. We may be fake dating, but the connection between us isn’t fake.

“You know my mother has calls out to a hundred wedding venues, right?”

Ouch. “We can say I want a long engagement.”

“Florists. Cakes. The entire thing is already crazy for Daphne. My mother called me twenty times today before I got here, asking for my favorite winter colors.”

“Tell her my father is withholding his approval on the match.”

“So my father can get offended and show up at the Hughes estate? No, thank you.”

“Listen, Eva. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said it. Well, yes, I do. I said it because you were trying so hard to protect Sophia from your mother and to protect Daphne from your father. And then you were trying to protect your father from Emerson.” My voice must have risen, because someone from another table looks over at me. I’m not yelling, but I’m sure as hell not going to let Eva turn herself inside out trying to please her unpleasable family. “And I was tired of watching it happen. You’re protecting everyone. Who’s protecting you?”