Vain

Page 31

“Sophie Price, you are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met,” he stated before turning my direction and staring me dead in the eyes. “You are so gosh damn beautiful in here,” he said, tapping my chest, “that what’s here,” he spoke, running the side of his hand down my face, “is magnified tenfold and that is a sight to behold.”
My mouth gaped open. I was at a complete loss for words, all rational thought had left, so I did the only thing I could think to do. I leaped across the seat and pulled the collar of his shirt toward me. The next second, I felt the SUV pull over and slam to a stop before being dragged onto Ian’s lap and he was exploring me with his mouth like no one ever had.
His hands found my neck and mine threaded through his hair. “Soph,” he whispered against my lips.
“Yes?” I asked, a smile tugging the corners of my mouth.
We kissed for God knows how long before he answered.
“Say it,” he asked, plucking my earlier plea right out of thin air.
“I love you,” I told him.
“Again,” he said, moving to my neck.
“I love you, Ian.”
“Again,” he asked, pulling my face away from him.
I looked at him, winded and twitterpated. “I’m in love with you, Ian Aberdeen.”
He attacked my lips with an unparalleled ferocity, swallowed my breath and tasted my tongue with his. I wrapped the crook of my arm around his neck to bring him closer, furiously melting my mouth with his and confusing where I started and he began.
“Mercy,” I said, briefly breaking contact before marrying my lips with his once more.
Suddenly his cell began to ring and we both groaned.
“Your parents,” I spoke into his mouth.
“Man, do you know how to spur a guy on or what?”
I laughed against his swollen lips. “Shut up. That’s them, has to be.”
“I don’t care,” he said, his hand searching the cupholder beside him for the phone. “Unless it’s Simon.”
We both turned to see it was, indeed, Simon.
“Hello?” he answered, smiling up at me. “Yeah, we got separated. We’ll be there soon.”
He pressed end and I sank back into my seat.
“To be continued,” he said, kissing my temple.
Aubergine felt like a continuation of Abri Aberdeen’s home. It screamed elegance and contemporary and there wasn’t a moment it didn’t make you painfully aware of yourself, of where you placed your hands, where you looked, what you said and even how you felt. If Aubergine was a person, it would be Abri Aberdeen.
“Welcome to Aubergine. Name?” a clearly uninterested young woman asked us. When she glanced up, though, her tune changed a little. She smiled at Ian.
“We’re here with another party,” Ian told him. “Aberdeen?”
Her eyes grew round as saucers. “Of course, pardon me for not recognizing you. This way,” she said, scurrying in front of us. “Again,” she said over her shoulder, “forgive me. I’m so sorry.”
“Not a big deal,” Ian told her, shrugging his shoulders.
The young girl led us up a flight of stairs that stemmed from the main dining room to the mezzanine. Ian’s family was the only seated there. The perks of being the executive mayor, I supposed.
An unexpected surprise awaited us when we finally met the table. Instead of the three Aberdeens, a fourth patron had joined the dinner. A young, exquisitely beautiful girl with butterscotch hair and bright blue eyes. She looked stunned and wide-eyed. Already, I’d decided to like her.
“If I were to guess,” I whispered Ian’s direction, “I believe this may be Simon’s topic of discussion.”
He nodded. “Strap yourself in, Sophie Price. I believe things are about to get unpredictable ’round here,” he said, his accent thicker than I’d heard it in a while.
Simon and Henrik stood when we approached the table. Ian held my chair out for me and I sat. The boys followed suit. We all sat quietly and awkwardly, awaiting something, anything to happen. Rather, we all stared at Abri on edge.
“You’re being rude, Simon,” Abri finally spoke. “Introduce your friend to Ian and Miss Price.”
Uh-oh. Not looking good.
Simon sighed audibly and pressed his lids closed for a moment before leaning into his date toward us. “Ian, Sophie, this is Imogen. Imogen, this is Ian and Miss Sophie Price.”
“A pleasure,” I smiled and offered my hand.
Imogen’s tense shoulders relaxed an infinitesimal amount and she took my extended hand, shaking it. “Nice to meet you as well.”
Simon presented his own hand and did the same.
Formalities over with, we all eyed Abri, but she gave no indication it was okay to speak. I astonished myself. I couldn't believe I was bending to this ridiculous woman and her outrageous intimidation. I decided to ignore her. She already felt insane disdain toward me, what further damage could I possibly do?
I turned Imogen’s direction. “You’re English,” I stated with a smile. “What part do you hail from?”
“Manchester,” she said, smiling back, her shoulders relaxing another inch. “Have you ever been?”
“I have,” I told her. “It’s lovely there.”
“You’re kind,” she laughed.
“I actually stayed in Chester,” I corrected.
“Oh, yes, it’s very charming there.”
“Agreed,” I said, taking a sip of my water.
I took the opportunity to study the table and noticed an almost too well put together Abri staring our direction. I smiled softly as if I was unaware she was secretly seething inside before turning back Imogen’s way.
“What brings you to Cape Town?” I asked her.
“Simon does,” she said, laughing. “We attended graduate school at Oxford together.”
“Really?” I asked, leaning her direction more, her shoulders relaxed another inch. “How did you meet?”
“In our Stochastic Analysis class,” she said before looking at Simon.
“Goddard!” they said in unison before breaking into laughter.
It died quickly when Abri cleared her throat before taking a sip of her own water.
“Fascinating,” I said, turning toward Ian. “You never told me Simon went to Oxford.”
“Simon went to Oxford, Sophie.”
I rolled my eyes. The table seemed to be getting more comfortable by the moment. Imogen’s shoulders were almost completely at ease and Ian placed his arm on the back of my chair. Henrik and the four of us continued with our conversation until the waiter took our drink orders.
“We’ll have four glasses of your best red,” Abri ordered.
“Oh, just bring the bottle,” Henrik said.
Abri’s hand rested on her husband’s. “Henrik,” she said, tossing her eyes my direction.
Imogen looked at me, but I just rolled my eyes and shook my head. She nodded in understanding.
Henrik narrowed his gaze at his wife then back at the waiter. “Bring the bottle,” he said, handing him the wine menu.
When the waiter walked away, Abri sat up in her chair. “Why don’t you just come out with it, Simon?”
The entire table got quiet.
Simon cleared his throat and took Imogen’s hand underneath the table. “All right. Mom? Dad? Imogen and I are going to be wed.”
I knew it! This news made me giddy inside. I narrowly escaped my own beheading though when Ian stayed me with a hand to my shoulder, preventing me from shouting the congratulations balanced at the tip of my tongue.
Abri quietly lifted her napkin from her lap and laid it across her plate. I guessed correctly that was a bad sign.
“And you thought bringing me here would be the perfect venue for such an announcement?”
Simon sank in his chair, running a hand over his face. “This is hardly the end of the world, Mother. Most people rejoice when their children announce their engagement.”
Abri leaned in closer toward him, balancing herself over the table. “We are not most people,” she gritted between teeth.
“Lovely impression you’re giving our Sophie.”
I subtly shook my head at him. A silent Don’t bring me into this!
“Maybe I should go,” I said, when Abri’s chilling stare sank through me.
I made an attempt to get up, but she locked me in place with a single look.
“No, it would be blasted all over the papers tomorrow if you left our table before we’d even gotten our wine.”
“What?” I asked.
“You seem to be under a mistaken impression. Look around you, Miss Price. There are two paparazzi waiting by the valet as well as a Cape Times journalist in the main dining hall.”
“I see,” I said, not looking to rock the boat. I sat back in my chair, placing my napkin in my lap once more.
“Yes, so even though I’m loathe to have you privy to my family’s discussion, one that, I might add, could be extremely damaging if leaked,” she drilled me with another disparaging look, “you stay.”
“Staying. Got it,” I said, sinking into my chair.
Abri faced Simon once more. “Why now?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. “Your half a term away from graduating. Why now?” she repeated.
“Because I love her and I don’t want to wait,” he stated as fact.
I barely bit my “aww” back.
“Something’s amiss,” she said, her nails tapping at the stem of her water glass, the only sign she wasn’t completely in check of her emotions.
Imogen fidgeted in her chair, glancing down at her lap, avoiding eye contact.
Uh-oh.
Simon’s jaw clenched. “I know what you’re implying.”
“And?” Abri asked, considering an obviously nervous Imogen.
“Not that one has anything to do with the other but, yes, Imogen is expecting,” Simon said, dropping the bombshell like he was announcing it would rain on Tuesday. “The only influence that had on my decision was when we would marry, not if.”
Yowza. And aww.
This time even Henrik lost his ever-present “It’s all good” facial expression.
“Not again,” Abri said, falling into the back of her chair.
I turned toward Ian and his face was devoid of color. I placed my hand within his, reminding him I was there. He squeezed my fingers.
“She’s only six weeks right now, Mom,” Simon continued. “We can marry at an undisclosed location and soon. We were thinking somewhere tropical, give the impression we’ve been planning a secret wedding for months. No one will think differently since Imogen has been a fixture in my life for more than two years. In fact, they’ll be expecting it. And in a couple of months, we announce her pregnancy.”
“Well, you’ve thought it all out, haven’t you, son? It’s all nice and tidy, isn’t it? Except you forgot one thing.”
“What?”
“Re-elections are this month and it would need to be immediate. No one would believe we were planning a wedding this close to the end of my campaign.”