Wedding Promises. Jennifer Faye
‘Daniel,’ his mother said, warning clear in her voice.
He shouldn’t make her actually ask. That would be showing far too much interest in his disreputable industry.
How his parents managed to live with the hypocritical distinction they made between cheerleading Riley’s A-List celebrity career and looking down on his own lucrative and respected film-related business, Dan had no idea. He suspected it had something to do with column inches in the celebrity magazines his mother pretended she didn’t read.
There. There she was. Laurel stood at the bar, her posture stiff and awkward as she talked to an older couple. He squinted at them. Nobody he recognised, so probably family. In fact, probably her family. And she looked about as excited to be talking to them as he was to be stuck alone with his.
Well, now. Wasn’t that just a win-win situation for everyone in the making? He could swoop in, save Laurel from her family, then drag her over to meet his and she could at least keep him company and give him something pretty to look at while his parents put him down.
‘Sorry, Mother. If you’ll excuse me a moment, there’s someone I’d really like you to meet. I’ll be right back.’
Not waiting for an answer, Dan pushed his way through the crowd towards the bar—and Laurel. Spotting Benjamin watching him as he crossed the room, he gave Laurel’s ex a flash of smile and a small wave, just to remind him that he was Laurel’s boyfriend now. Fake or otherwise.
Then he got back to the task in hand—rescuing Laurel. He paused just a metre or two away from where she stood, hands twisting round each other in front of her belly, and took stock of her companions.
The man who Dan assumed was her father was short and stocky, with a thatch of grey hair above deep-set eyes. His suit looked expensive, but he fiddled with the cufflinks as if they were still a little unfamiliar. Dan guessed that Melissa had dressed her parents up for the occasion, the way she wanted them to be seen. See? It wasn’t even just wives who did that. Perhaps all women were just as culpable.
Except Laurel. She’d thought his outfit was perfect—if only because it would annoy her sister. Which was a good enough reason for him to keep wearing it.
Melissa’s mother—Laurel’s stepmother, he supposed—wore a peacock-bright gown that looked too flashy next to her faded blonde hair. Her make-up was heavy, as if trying to hide the lines of her age, but somehow making them all the more obvious.
Then Laurel turned slightly, glancing over her shoulder—maybe looking for him? Dan stepped forward, ready to play knight in shining armour for his pretend girlfriend even if he couldn’t manage to be a real prince.
‘Laurel.’ He smiled, resting his fingertips against her shoulder as he moved behind her. ‘There you are. Do you have a moment, honey? I know you’re busy working, but there are some people I’d like you to meet.’
Or rescue him from. It was practically the same thing, right?
The relieved smile she sent up at him told him he’d done the right thing, even if her parents were looking rather less impressed at the interruption.
‘Dad, Angela, this is Dan. He’s my...’ She faltered for a moment, then started again. ‘We’re together.’
‘Dan?’ Angela’s eyes narrowed. ‘You didn’t say you were bringing a date to the wedding, Laurel. I know we talked about the exclusivity of the guest list, under the circumstances. It’s not like this is any old wedding.’
‘And I’m not any old date,’ Dan said cheerfully as he held out his hand to Laurel’s father. ‘Dan Black, sir,’ he said as they shook. Then he turned to offer his hand to Angela. ‘Riley’s older brother.’
Angela’s face tightened as her handshake turned weak and she tugged her fingers from his. ‘Riley’s brother.’ She turned to glare at Laurel. ‘Well. This is unexpected. Does Melissa know that you two are...?’ She waved a hand vaguely between them, as if articulating the relationship was too disgusting even to contemplate.
‘Not yet.’
Laurel’s words came out small, subdued, and Dan reached out to touch her again, to remind her that she wasn’t alone. Wasn’t that the whole point of this charade, anyway?
‘We thought we’d share our good news with her this evening,’ Dan said, trying to keep his tone bright and his expression oblivious to the glares Angela was spreading around their little group. ‘I’m sure she and Riley will be very happy for us.’
‘I’m sure they will,’ Laurel’s father said, apparently also immune to the glares. At least until Angela elbowed him in his soft middle. ‘Oh, but...perhaps tonight isn’t the night to tell them, darling,’ he added, having finally got a clue. ‘It’s a very big night for Melissa.’
‘It’s a very big week all round,’ Dan agreed. ‘But, really, I do always think that keeping love a secret sends the wrong message, don’t you? And I wouldn’t ever want Laurel to doubt my feelings about her.’
Maybe that was going a little far, judging by the way Angela’s face paled and Laurel’s father’s cheeks turned a rosy shade of red at the reminder of how she’d been his mistress for almost two decades. Dan tested his conscience and discovered he didn’t care. If they couldn’t take it, he decided, they really shouldn’t spread such poisonous looks and comments around in the first place.
‘Now, if you’ll excuse us a moment?’
He reached an arm around Laurel’s shoulders, trying hard only to touch the dress and not her bare skin—which, given the design, wasn’t easy. But he knew that if he placed his hands on that long, lean back he’d be done for. And he needed all his wits about him if they both wanted to make it through the evening intact.
‘You shouldn’t have said that,’ she whispered to him as they turned away.
‘Probably not,’ he agreed. ‘But you have to admit it was fun.’
The secret smile she gave him was reward enough.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked as he steered her across the room.
‘Ah.’ As much as he wished he could just lead her out of the bar, back through the endless hotel corridors to their room, he had promised his parents he was coming back. With her. ‘Well, if you consider your parents the frying pan...let’s just say our next stop could be thought of as the fire.’
Laurel groaned. ‘I’m going to need more champagne for this, aren’t I?’
‘Definitely,’ Dan said, and flagged down a passing waiter.
LAUREL’S MIND WAS still replaying the moment Dan had managed to insult and embarrass her father and stepmother all in the same moment, with just one passing comment, as he handed her a glass of champagne and they continued their journey across the huge hotel bar. She had a feeling she’d be reliving it all week, as an antidote to whatever repercussions Angela deemed appropriate for the injury. The thing was, of course, she couldn’t actually disagree with anything Dan had said. Just the implications, and the suggestion that he had every intention of sharing the news of their relationship with the bride that evening.
Melissa, Laurel knew, would be livid. The thing she hated most in the world was people stealing her thunder. And while at her own wedding that might be moderately understandable, the fact was it wouldn’t matter what the circumstances: Melissa hated anyone else getting any attention at all—especially if she felt it had been taken away from her.
Perhaps it was a hold-over from her childhood when, ignored by her own father for sixteen years, she’d had to try and win attention in other ways. Maybe that explained why she’d become not just an actress, but a celebrity, whose every move and look was pored over by the press and