Fiance Next Door

Everyone can look at Aster all they want. The women can want to be her but they will never be. The men can want to be with her but they can’t. She’s mine.

If I had taken Aster to the prom, I bet this is how it would have felt.

“It’s like the prom, isn’t it?” I whisper to her.

In some ways, it is. The same scrutinizing stares and envious glances. The same ugliness hiding behind makeup. The same buzz of excitement hanging in the air. The same dark intentions lurking in the corners.

Ah, but this crowd is better. They have more manners, maybe too much so. The clothes are more expensive. The music is definitely better. And there’s whiskey and champagne instead of punch.

A waiter approaches me and I grab drinks – champagne for Aster and whiskey for me. I hand her the glass with the bubbling golden liquid and she drinks nearly half of it in one gulp.

“Easy,” I caution her. “This isn’t one of those parties where you’d like to be seen drunk.”

“Sorry,” Aster says. “I’m just… trying to loosen up a little.”

I did notice that her hand was tightly clutching. And the fact that everyone is looking at her is probably not helping.

“Relax,” I tell her. “Breathe. Just remember you’re Aster Higgins-Burke, my wife.”

She frowns. “Is that supposed to help me?”

“My point is that no one is going to try to humiliate you or say anything mean to your face. They wouldn’t dare mess with Mason Burke’s wife.”

Aster looks at me. “You’re flattering yourself, aren’t you?”

“I’m telling the truth. You have nothing to be afraid of.”

“Except making a complete fool of myself and ruining your reputation.”

I snort. “You won’t. You’re smart, beautiful and amazing.”

Aster blushes.

“And you have me,” I add.

She smiles.

I take her hand and bring it to my lips. “Now, let’s go mingle, shall we, Mrs. Burke? There are a few people I’d like you to meet.”

Aster draws a deep breath. “Okay. But can we look for Desiree Wright first? I really want to meet her.”

I thought so. “Sure. I’m sure she’d be happy to meet you, too.”

~

The two women seem to have hit it off, I think as I watch Desiree and Aster still engaged in an animated conversation. After they met, they started talking and haven’t stopped. It’s not just them talking now, though. Before I took a phone call, there were four of them. Now, they’re a crowd of seven and I can see two others interested in joining in.

I take another sip of my whiskey and grin.

Maybe it’s because of Desiree. Maybe it’s because the champagne has finally kicked in. For whatever reason, Aster seems to have loosened up and is enjoying herself now. I can even see that her confidence has increased.

Good for her. Then again, I’ve never had any doubts that Aster would make an excellent businessman’s wife. I really am so proud of her.

“Your wife is a charming woman, Burke,” a man says from behind me.

I glance over my shoulder and recognize the bald man in his late fifties as Oliver Owens, a fellow businessman. If I’m not mistaken, he used to be the vice president of an automobile company but for some reason he left and now he’s the CEO of a shipping company. I don’t know him well, but on the past few occasions we’ve met, whether during charity galas, at an awards ceremony for outstanding entrepreneurs, or at the New York City marathon, he’s struck me as a man who knows what he’s doing. A formidable colleague.

“Thank you,” I tell him.

He takes a sip from his glass of champagne and stands by my side. “You know, I couldn’t believe at first that you got yourself hitched. I thought a man like that doesn’t need a wife. But now, I see her and I think I understand. Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” I say again.

“I would have come to your wedding, you know, if you’d invited me.”

“I didn’t invite anyone,” I confess. “It was a family affair.”

“Not even any old buddies from the Army?” Oliver asks.

I narrow my eyes at him. I know it’s public knowledge that I was in the Army. Even so, something about his question arouses my suspicion.

What is he getting at?

He places a hand on my shoulder. “You know, I spoke to someone who knew you when you were in the Army.”

“Really? Who?”

“I’d rather not say, but he tells me you did some brilliant stuff with computers.”

“I still do,” I tell him.

He grins. “Oh, I don’t think we’re talking about the same thing.”

I frown. What exactly does he know?

“Are you trying to threaten me?” I ask him.

Oliver shakes his head. “Oh, not at all. You misunderstand me. Actually, I admire your… skills. And I’m afraid I am in need of them.”

I sip my whiskey. “I’m not interested. I don’t do that anymore.”