“Don’t let me drink too much, okay?”
“Okay.” He smirks as we walk to the door.
“And if you see me drinking too much, take my glass from me.”
He frowns.
“Honestly, Jay, I go from a level four to a ten in two mouthfuls.”
He smirks and then, thinking on that statement further, throws his head back and laughs out loud. “Not a truer word has ever been spoken.”
I drop my mouth open in fake horror. “I’m not talking about head, Jameson.”
“I am.” He kisses my hand. “And for the record, you went from a ten to a twenty.”
I smirk, and he bends and kisses my neck and then my shoulder and then my breast through my dress.
“The sooner we go, the sooner we can leave.” He runs his hand down my behind and gives me a sharp slap.
Half an hour later, the limo pulls into the parking bay, and I look around at all the beautiful people in black tie. As my nerves begin to kick me hard, Jameson picks up my hand and kisses the back of it, oblivious to my inner turmoil.
What will I say to his mother? His father? Oh hell . . . why did I come?
Alan opens the door, and Jameson climbs out and then takes my hand and helps me. His hand tenderly goes to my lower back. “Thank you,” he says to Alan.
“Thank you.” I smile.
Jameson takes my hand, and we walk up toward the large front doors. A few people do a double take as they see us, and people are staring. I hold my breath as he leads me through the crowd. “Hello, Jameson,” someone says.
He nods politely but doesn’t stop to chat. We walk in through the double doors, and he leads me straight to a table up at the front. It’s round with a white linen tablecloth and silver cutlery all lined up, and beautiful white flowers and candles sit in the center.
Crap, what’s the eating order of the cutlery? I need to go to the bathroom and google this shit. Jameson’s father is sitting at the table along with an older woman. She has dark hair that sits in a perfect bob. She’s very attractive and wearing a glamorous black evening dress with long sleeves.
“Mom, Dad, this is Emily.” He presents me proudly. “These are my parents, Elizabeth and George.”
“Hello, dear.” His mother stands and kisses both my cheeks and holds me at arm’s length as she inspects me. “Well, aren’t you something special.” She smiles warmly.
Oh, she’s nice. I smile awkwardly, and his father pulls me from his mother and kisses my cheek. “Hello, Emily. I didn’t get a chance to talk with you properly the other day. Lovely to meet you.”
“Yes, you too,” I whisper.
Jameson pulls out my chair, and I sit down as my heart races in my chest. I can feel my face flushing, and I silently die a little. Don’t go red now, stupid. I get an image of a beetroot face sitting next to Mr. Gorgeous here. Jameson pours me a glass of champagne and passes it over.
“Thank you,” I whisper as I take it from him. My eyes hold his in a silent “help me” signal.
He gives me a sexy wink and slings his arm around the back of my chair. “Where’s Tris?” he asks casually as he looks around the room.
“On his way,” his father replies.
I look around at all the people filling the ballroom. The who’s who are here—not that I remember any of their names. I’m only going on what Molly and Aaron prepped me with today. Two of the managers I’ve seen upstairs on the top floor arrive with their dates. “Hello.” They all shake hands, and then the men frown when they see me.
“Have you met Emily, my girlfriend?” Jameson asks them.
“Oh yes.” They smile in an over-the-top way. “Hello, Emily,” the four of them splutter before shaking my hand and sitting down at our table.
Jameson sits next to me, and his father is on the other side of him, then his mother, then the other four. Two seats are to my left—must be for Tristan.
“Hello,” Tristan says happily from behind me. I turn and see that the blonde woman is with him.