Blame it on the Champagne (Blame it on the Alcohol 1) - Page 16

“No, that’s okay. I’ll take a cab.”

“Are you sure?”

So fucking sure. “Yeah. Work is important. I don’t want you to be late.”

He smiled approvingly like he was proud of me for my new trick. I almost waited for him to pat me on the head when we walked out, telling me how proud he was of his pretty future wife.

“By the way, you’ll be attending the gala with me next week,” he announced.

I opened my mouth to protest that I had plans with the girls but never got the chance.

“Don’t argue and wear something sexy. I want to show off my future wife.”

I almost cringed but stopped when I met Nicholas’s eyes over Camden’s shoulder. Camden leaned in to kiss me goodbye, and I quickly turned my head. His lips still landed against my cheek, and by some miracle, I managed to not jerk away.

“So pure,” he whispered against my cheek. A shiver worked its way through my limbs when he pulled back with a smirk and pinched my chin, swiping his thumb across my lips. “Soon.”

And with that last eerie promise, he walked away. Without looking around to find Nicholas’s reaction, I dove into the waiting car and sent a message to Raelynn to meet me at home.

I needed someone to help me process the night and drink with me until I passed out.

Maybe if I drank enough, I wouldn’t dream of Nicholas for just one night.SevenVera“I’m so proud to be your friend right now,” Raelynn said, smiling at me like a proud mom as we strolled into the gala. “That dress screams seductive strength and fuck you, and you wish you could have this, all in one. The perfect dress for Camden.”

I snorted a laugh.

“I mean, the blood-red says I’ll kill you and bathe in your blood. But the touch of lace along the back says I’m a lady. But it’s the fit, bare back, and flashes of skin that make it so utterly sexy.”

I dropped my chin, a blush rising into my cheeks. I didn’t usually wear something like this, but when I saw it—after the past month—I had to have it. I liked the way it wrapped around my neck, and the soft silky material cradled my breasts. It wasn’t just a deep v down to my belly button; it was like it had been twisted to my hip and threatened to expose my left breast at any moment. I loved it.

“Look who’s talking.” I gestured to an unashamed Raelynn, throwing in an extra strut in her beige, black, and silver glitter dress. She reminded me of the Black Swan with everything strategically glued in place to cover anything important.

“Yeah, but this is me. I wear shit like this all the time. You, are the muted color cardigan and pearls.”

“I don’t wear a cardigan and pearls all the time.”

“Economics. Sophomore year. You sure did.”

“It was cute.”

“It was. It fit your personality of goody-two-shoes perfectly.”

“I’m not a goody-two-shoes.”

“Well, not after all the years with me,” she said, delivering a devious wink.

I wasn’t. I just always followed the rules. My family was in the public eye, and my mother instilled being a lady. I had fun. I did.

But with my impending marriage to Camden hanging on the horizon, I had to admit, maybe it wasn’t as much as I wanted.

“They always go so over the top at these things,” Raelynn said.

I looked around the open ballroom of the hotel, the chandeliers dripping with crystals, gold curtains hanging open, pooling decadently on the ground. Waiters wove between patrons almost invisible in their black and white tuxes.

Everyone sipped champagne, lavish fabrics making the most expensive dresses cling to their lithe bodies. Hair styled to perfection, and makeup done expertly even under all their masks.

I adjusted the black lace clouding my vision, making sure it hadn’t shifted too much in the car.

“Shots?” Raelynn suggested.

I cringed. The night was still young, and I hadn’t even seen my father yet. Maybe shots weren’t the best idea. A waiter walked by, and I snagged two flutes of champagne. “How about some champagne first.”

Raelynn accepted the glass with a raised brow. “Careful. That stuff will sneak up on you just as bad as tequila.”

The bubbles tickled their way down my throat as my mother’s words floated through my mind.

Never drink too much at these big events. You don’t want to be known as the drunk woman everyone murmurs about. But always have a glass to keep your hands busy. A lady doesn’t fidget.

My mother wasn’t wrong, either. There was always one or two women who always showed up and got a little too loud. I’d stand back and watch as everyone gawked and whispered behind their manicured hands.

“I’m surprised you came,” I said. “I thought you’d still go see Nova.”

“Nah. We agreed I should come be here with you. I think Nova is taking the chance to detour to another adventure rather than coming too close to home.”

Tags: Fiona Cole Blame it on the Alcohol Romance
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