Jesus, he’s patronizing. My hands curl into fists and I can’t express how much I want to slug him.
But then I have another idea—a better idea.
I step forward and slip my arm around her waist. “She’s here with me, actually. As my date. Aren’t you, Genny?”
“Uh.” Startled, she squints up at me, and for a minute I think she might not play along.
Then she smiles. Tightly, but it counts. “Right. My date.”
Edward drops his hand from her shoulder but narrows his eyes in my direction. “And who are you?”
It’s okay. I’d be predatory about her if she were my daughter, too.
Thank fuck she’s not.
I extend my hand in his direction. “Chandler Pierce.”
“Ah, the younger Pierce.” The glance he throws his son is the kind I’m used to getting—the one that says, this man isn’t as important as his brother, but he’s still important; better kiss up.
I usually hate that glance. Tonight, I’m using it to put this turd in his place.
“Younger, less-exhausted,” I say. “I’ve been filling in for Hudson as much as I can. I was at the gala the other night. Your daughter meant to introduce me to you then, but it seems you were otherwise occupied.”
In other words, she’s the only reason I’m giving you my time right now. Get the point, buddy?
His expression says he gets it.
He’s about to fall over himself in flattering me—I know the drill. I don’t let him get that far. “Perhaps we’ll have the opportunity to speak some time. Right now, I believe they’re starting to serve our meals.” I turn toward my pretend-date. “Genevieve? Shall we?”
“We shall.”
With my hand still on her waist, I nudge her away from her father and her stuck-up suit of a sibling.
“Goddamned narrow-minded tosser,” she mutters as soon as we’re out of their earshot. She stops walking to complain. “I can’t believe he brought my brother to this event. Hagan’s only interested in how many skirts he can get under in a single trip to the States. He collects sexual encounters like some people collect passport stamps.”
Ah, huh.
“I think I know the type.” I mean me. Hagan and I are cut from the same cloth, it seems. Realizing that, I stand behind my earlier harsh thoughts. I’m definitely an asswipe as well, especially with the speed I go through women.
Though I’ve barely noticed any other skirts since the one on my arm walked into my life.
Which is probably why I’m only just now realizing that I can’t actually have dinner with Genevieve. The reason I’m here in the first place is to feel out her competition. There’s no way I can do that with her at my table.
Just, how do I break the news to her?
“And you!” she exclaims suddenly in a tone that makes me think she’ll take the news just fine. “Are you happy now? You wanted me to agree to a date so badly, you must be happy as a clam that you’ve trapped me into one. You probably followed me here tonight just so you could find your opportunity.”
“What?” I’m floored by her turn of hostility. And I’m more than a little perturbed. “Let’s just get one thing straight right off the bat. I did not follow you here. You think I only have you as an item on my agenda? I do work, you know.”
“Really? Doing what? It seems that mostly you just stand around looking pretty.”
It’s probably not a good time to mention the trading company I manage in Iowa because, well, it’s in Iowa.
Besides, she’s kind of not far off from the truth. Not that I stand around looking pretty—though, I do look good, if I say so myself—but that I don’t actually seem to have a lot of responsibilities at Pierce Industries. Something that’s been bothering me more and more as of late. That’s a matter to take up with Hudson. Eventually. Not now.
Right now, my focus is on Genevieve. “For your information, I’m here not because of you but because of my job. My job. I have an important tête-à-tête on the menu.” So there.
She laughs. Actually laughs. “Important tête-à-tête. Well, aren’t you fancy.”
“Laugh all you want. I’m glad I can be the source of your amusement.” Is it weird that the more she mocks me, the more desperate I am to win her over?
But like I just told her, I’m not here for her. I’m here for Hudson. For Pierce Industries.
I force myself to stay focused on my agenda and pause to scan the room, orientating myself with the layout so I know where I’m going. “I believe that’s my table right there.” Nate and his date are seated there already. “Do you need me to put you in a cab before we part ways?”
Her jaw drops. “And now you’re abandoning me?”
“You mean, you want to stay for dinner? You just got mad at me for trying to make this a date, and now that’s exactly what you want this to be?” Is it totally bad if I kind of want her to want the date? “Which is it, Genny?”
Her eyes flare, I think as much from the nickname as anything else. It’s absolutely adorable.
It’s also absolutely confusing. She’s confusing.
“This is not a date,” she hisses. “I didn’t want or need to be rescued, but now that you’ve created this situation, you have to follow through. What will my father think if I suddenly disappear from tonight’s event? I can’t let him win.”
Yeah, I totally get that.
And shit, now we are in a serious dilemma. I can't do what I've set out to with her along. “Maybe he won’t notice if you slip out,” I say.