Page 25 of The Sounds of Her
“Henry, so glad you could make it this evening,” mom reaches out and shakes his hand. “And Deborah, how nice to see you again.”
Roman seems to know them well enough to be on first-name terms and shakes their hands. Everyone turns to me and I’m about to introduce myself when mom speaks.
“This is my daughter, Brooke.”
“It’s lovely to meet you,” Henry says, eyeing my cleavage.
Jesus Christ.
Roman puts his arm around my waist, and I frown, twitching at the familiarity of the move. It’s almost possessive.
Then my mother says something that has my heart skipping a beat, and for all the wrong reasons. It’s downright terror. Anger and disappointment in myself has me frozen, the smile on my face faltering, and I’m sure looking fake as hell.
How did I forget what my mom is really like? I’ve walked right into this.
“Roman and Brooke recently started dating. Although,” she adds, with an uncharacteristic coy smile. “I’m pretty sure he’s going to pop the question soon.”
Chapter Seven
I stand by the Mayor of New York, his wife, and my mother, as she spouts a pile of complete and utter bullshit about how happy she is that Roman and I found each other.
Struck dumb when they congratulate us on something that has not and will never happen. My eyes shoot from her to Roman and back to the Mayor, all beaming at me.
My stoney eyed glare turns to my mother, and I have to give her credit, she never falters, not once as she tells stories about a non-existent relationship between me and the man standing beside me. A man, I might add, who hasn’t said a word either.
He is smiling at the Mayor too. I can tell from the pulse of his jaw and twitch in the corner of his eye, he knows I’m glaring at him.
The ass is in on it. He has to be. No one is this calm hearing something like this for the first time. An engagement to a woman he’s met twice.
My fists clench but I keep a smile plastered to my face, only because we’re talking to the goddamn mayor. I have to hand it to my mother, she was well aware of exactly who to break this news to, to keep me in line.
Anyone else and I wouldn’t be standing here, biting my tongue. I’d have lost my shit. Not that I care about the mayor, but freaking out in front of him or ousting my mother as a complete liar right now won’t do me any favours, with my own career as much as anything else.
“Could you excuse me?” I interrupt as the conversation turns to something other than my make-believe engagement. “I need to use the restroom.”
My mother watches me but keeps the smile on her face. I’m well versed in every single expression that woman is capable of and how well she carries each one, hiding it from anyone who doesn’t know her like I do.
Before anyone can respond, I turn and walk away, searching for an exit. I’m not going to the bathroom, and I’m not going to smile like I used to when I was ten years old.
As I approach the doorway that leads to the exit, I spot my father. His eyes meet mine for a second then slide away. It’s typical he doesn’t care to say hello, but his expression creases and I glance back to see my mother staring at him. When he looks back at me, his expression hardens.
Fuck them all. I’m at the door when Roman catches up to me.
“She never told you.” It’s a statement, not a question.
He’s lucky he didn’t touch me, he has some good sense at least.
“What on earth makes you think she didn’t tell me, Roman? The fact I didn’t ask you about it on the ride over here? Or my expression when my mother told the Mayor of New York that not only are we an item, but you’re also getting ready to drop to one knee.”
Roman glances around. The music is loud enough that the room at large can’t hear me, but people nearby are looking over.
“Can we talk?”
“No. I’m leaving.”
Over his shoulder, I see my parents meet by the auction tables. They turn my way, mom still has that ridiculous smile plastered to her face. She begins to move in my direction, but dad touches her arm, distracting her.
Before she can do anything else, I spin on my heel and walk to the doors. I sense Roman behind me. All I want to do is tell him to get the hell away from me, but even now, I’m conscious of appearances. And that pisses me off even more.