The Ex (The Boss 4)

“You’re awful. I’m going to go find Dad and put my feet up in a dark corner somewhere. Nudge me if I’m snoring,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

“And come rescue me if she’s unconscious. I don’t want Mr. Elwood to strike when I’m vulnerable,” Michael mock pleaded as he followed Emma away.

“They seem nice,” Mom said once they’d left. “So, I’ll be their grandmother, then?”

“Stop,” I warned her.

“All right, all right.” She motioned with her long acrylic nails. “I’m going to go get a drink.”

She left, and I chewed my thumbnail as I surveyed the room. I was fooling myself, thinking I cared about anyone’s opinion but my mom’s. There was this gnawing need for her approval. Maybe if everything went perfectly, we would look like a real couple to her. Or maybe the S.S. Be Okay With It had already hit an iceberg.

“Sophie,” Neil called across the room. He and Rudy emerged from the hallway. Rudy had a highball glass with something dark in it, but Neil had a bottled water. A shiver ran up my spine at the sight of that, for two reasons. One, he didn’t get drunk before we engaged in heavy Dominance/submission scenes. Second, it was a party, and he wasn’t drinking. At least, not yet. That kind of progress thrilled me. Neil hadn’t exactly been open with me about his therapy was going, and though I’d desperately wanted to ask, it wasn’t my business. The fact that he didn’t already have drink in his hand gave me hope.

Neil came to me and took my hands, holding them slightly out to my sides. “You look better than any birthday cake I’ve ever eaten.”

I snorted. “Very good innuendo, Elwood. But I know you love cake.”

“On the contrary.” He brought our hands up between us as he stepped close and leaned down to my ear. “I enjoy eating you more.”

He slipped his arm around my waist and led me toward Rudy. Every time I saw that man, it was like I was the defendant in a very smug lawsuit. The weird thing was, I liked Rudy. He was one of the most talented costu

me designers in New York, and he’d hung up the tape measure to work at Porteras. Which meant he loved fashion as much as I did. Plus, he was Neil’s best friend. I couldn’t not like him.

“You look barely legal tonight,” Rudy said by way of greeting.

I pursed my lips, nodded then said, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

My mom returned from the dining room, cosmo in hand. At the sight of her, Rudy pushed his glasses down his nose. “Oh, that’s sad. I hate to see a bridge and tunnel MILF get lost on her way back to Ronkonkoma.”

“That’s my mother-in-law-to-be,” Neil reminded him quietly as she made her way toward us. “She’s from the Midwest. Be nice to her.”

“Be nice to her? I’ll send her a Neiman’s gift card if she promises to never wear zebra print again.” His composed smirk was both self-congratulatory and a reminder that this was all good-natured banter. And it was. It was just good-natured banter that he actually thought. “She’s like if Kirstie Alley had played Patsy on Ab Fab.”

Neil elbowed him.

Mom looked concerned when she reached me. “Sophie, do you think they know to clean as they go in there? I could go behind and tidy up.”

“No, Mom. The caterers will take care of it. That’s their job.” I had to refrain from rolling my eyes, because I was almost certain Rudy wasn’t. “Let me introduce you to someone. This is Rudy, Neil’s best friend.”

“Oh?” She held out her hand and looked utterly charmed when Rudy kissed it. She didn’t know it was sarcastic, but she didn’t need to.

“Rudy and I met at university,” Neil said then corrected himself. “College.”

“I know what university is,” she told him then turned back to Rudy. “So, Rudy. Are you single?”

Oh, I was so not going to hang around for that particular conversation. I drifted away, pretending I didn’t see the pleading in Neil’s panicked gaze.

I’d invited about fifty of Neil’s friends, and as I’d expected, about thirty had been able to make it. It was just the right sized crowd. If there was someone you didn’t want to see—Valerie, for example—there were enough guests that it was easy to accidentally miss them.

It wasn’t that I’d gone back to hating her guts. It was just that after our heart-to-heart in London, I didn’t know how to be around her. Even though I was so grateful for the way she’d helped me during Neil’s momentary pharmaceutical breakdown, I felt unreasonably betrayed by her. It wasn’t her fault that her brother was writing a book, and I could tell that she felt really bad about it. Unfortunately, our history together made it hard to not resent her for her brother’s actions.

When she cornered me by the bar, I forced my friendliest smile. “Hey, Valerie.”

“Sophie.” She was forcing her niceness just as hard I was forcing mine. “You look very pretty tonight. Herve Leger?”

“Um, yeah.” I nodded and grinned like an idiot. I didn’t care so much about her approval, but she appreciated fashion. I couldn’t hate that. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

She plucked at the front of her asymmetrical silver sweater—I was pretty sure it was Armani—and said, “Well, that’s kind of you, but I’ve been at the office all day. Never a dull moment.”