“What did you call me?” She pivoted to face him.
An angelic smile graced his mouth. “Ambrose—it is your last name. Going for the sports team angle.”
Relieved, she walked back to him. “Okay, but you have to be nice or I’ll wear something worse than this to your party,” she threatened, shaking her skirt. The bells tinkled.
Grimacing, he shook his head. “There can’t be anything worse than that.”
“Oh, but there is. Imagine tie-dye plaid tangerine and purple with striped leggings and a matching hat,” she improvised, trying to think of hideous, even to her, wardrobe combinations. “Birkenstocks and a feathery boa complete said ensemble.”
He looked like he was going to be physically ill. “Peace; I cry peace. For the love of God, woman, stop!”
She glanced at Sasha’s assistants. They were busy talking amongst themselves, unfazed by Sasha’s outburst. Heck, they were probably used to his theatrics.
“It’s a good thing you married a man with lots of cash to make you look good.”
“I’m not after his money. I have my own. And my own house and car. And things. A yard. Trees.” She racked her brain for more of her assets. “Waterfront property.”
“And blue birds singing a happy working song as you pick flowers from your carefully tended garden. Yes, dear, I’m well aware of your assets.” His eyes traveled down her body. “And how Christian would like to merge his with yours. Why couldn’t he have picked someone a little less gauche is beyond me.”
She crossed her arms. “Two feather boas in lime green and sparkly eye shadow. And I’ll get Brennen to streak my hair with bright yellow dye.”
A grin broke out on his face and he laughed. It was warm and completely without artifice. “I like you, Zoe.” He turned to the racks of clothing, pulling out dresses and holding them out and up to her.
“Purple looks best on me,” she offered.
“I suspect there aren’t many colors that don’t look good on you.” His compliment eased the butterflies multiplying in her stomach.
A hot pink and feathery dress was held out to her, but she shook her head.
“Not enough feathers?” he teased with a crooked smile.
“Too young.”
He put it back, then handed her another. “How’s this one? Vintage Vivienne Westwood.”
She stared at him blankly.
“Go try it on, dear. We can tailor it to fit you.”
While she was having her hair and make-up done, Sasha entertained her with stories of growing up with Christian and his brother. “Speak of the devil,” he said with a chuckle. “Your husband just texted me. Why don’t you pick out a pair of heels while I run a quick errand, yes?”
She toyed with a sparkling necklace while she waited.
Sasha returned with a packet of papers. “This is for you.”
Glancing at the first sheet, she almost dropped it after reading the first few lines. “A background check?”
“He said it was only fair.”
“That was nice of him,” she said, not knowing what else to say.
“He has the same information on you, dear.”
Of course Christian would. He was an actor and one of the heirs to an Oil and Mineral Conglomerate worth billions. Both of which would draw the crazies. So why wouldn’t he have background checks on everyone? But for him to give her one back…The paper crumpled as she made a fist. “I’ll read the rest, after your party.”
“Breathe, Zoe.” He rested his hands lightly on her shoulders for moment. “The dog days are over for you. No more hiding in corners or behind potted plants unless you take Christian with you. He’s also extremely fond of sneaking away at parties, but I think you already know that.” He left the room, whistling a tune that got stuck in her head.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Please tell me you’ve had enough socializing for tonight,” Christian murmured in her ear, his hand splayed across her lower back.
He hadn’t left her side once. No matter who smiled at him with a come-hither look, he’d ignored them all and focused his charm on her. Exclusively.
Heat seeped through her. “Ready when you are.”
“Give me a minute to speak with Sasha, then we’ll go.” Christian visibly tensed. “Who the hell invited her?”
The crowd parted, and a woman emerged from the depths.
“Jaylen probably invited herself,” Zoe muttered.
Jaylen Stone, a gorgeous blonde, was a former lover of Christian and held the distinction of dating him for almost two years. Rumors had flown, fast and furious, that the two were headed down the aisle. When Jaylen had moved in with Christian, Zoe had immersed herself in her house and career. Ignoring everything, but renovating and writing.
Jaylen greeted them with a cool smile. “How absolutely charming you two are. And don’t you look pretty, Zoe. The years have definitely agreed with you. You must be… what—the big three-five?”
Even as Christian swiveled his head back and forth between the two, Zoe kept her composure and refused to take the bait.
“Thank you, Jaylen. You look nice tonight.”
Jaylen’s icy grey eyes narrowed. “Still working on getting rid of the accent I see.”
“You two know each other?” he asked.
“We were acquaintances while she lived in California. You know how Martha loves for all of us to be one big happy family. And now you really are. Well done, Zoe. I didn’t think you had it in you.” Jaylen touched Zoe’s arm, making her skin crawl.
“You used to live in L.A.?” He scraped a hand through his hair as she nodded. Apparently, he hadn’t gotten to that part of her background check. “With whom?”
Jaylen let out a throaty laugh. “This is too rich. Can’t you see the family resemblance? The fine print of Martha Alfred’s contracts is getting more ridiculous by the year.”
He pierced her with a sharp gaze. Zoe placed a hand on his arm, muscles tightening beneath her palm. “I meant to tell you.”
“Before you ran back home I never got the chance to ask how it felt to not be woman enough to keep him,” Jaylen said, making the guests closest to them shuffle closer.
Zoe stared at the woman, tongue frozen. Jaylen had been her confidant while living in Los Angeles. She’d also been the ultimate frenemy, but Zoe hadn’t known it at the time. In fact she’d poured her heart out to Jaylen about Christian.