Page 32 of The Wedding Pact

She smiles back. ‘And I appreciate your generosity.’

‘It’s my pleasure.’

‘Mine too,’ she murmurs.

She reaches over and lays her hand on my forearm, her gaze still locked with mine.

My skin burns under her touch.

Which is bloody distracting when I’m trying to maintain a friendly, easy-going demeanour.

Not that I want her to stop touching me.

My heart is racing and I shift slightly closer to her, dropping my gaze to take in the beautiful swell of her lips.

The air feels suddenly heavy with meaning, like something’s about to happen. Something good.

I look up and our eyes lock. I’m pretty sure, from the expression in them, that she’s feeling the same heat between us that I am.

I’m on the cusp of doing something foolish when I sense someone approaching our table and brace myself for another round of hero-worship for Ida.

But when I turn to see who’s come to talk to us, I realise it’s my dad and stepmum standing there with fixed smiles on their faces.

My heart sinks.

Okay. Here we go.

Standing up, I brace myself for the take-down I’m going to have to deal with in front of Ida.

‘Raffa, good to see you made it,’ my stepmother says in her usual cool, steady, but laced-with-an-undercurrent-of-disappointment tone I’ve become so used to having aimed at me.

‘Of course I made it, Carrie. I wouldn’t miss Darian’s wedding. Especially as I organised the last-minute venue.’

‘Yes. We’re very grateful for that. I’m sure that message has already been relayed,’ she says, clearly bristling at what she considers insolence from me.

I can’t win with the woman. Damned if I do and damned if I don’t.

I’ve given up trying to please her because nothing I do is ever enough.

It never has been.

‘It’s a great hotel,’ my dad says in an overly jovial way, as if trying to evoke some peace between us with this lame observation.

‘It’s a bit better than great, Dad,’ I say, fighting to keep my voice steady. ‘It’s one of Elliot’s best and almost impossible to book because it’s so popular.’

‘Yes, lucky that you have such a generous friend,’ my stepmother says.

Annoyance creeps down my spine, but I’m not going to rise to this and give her the satisfaction of seeing me angry, so I just say, ‘Yes. So lucky.’

I can’t help folding my arms though.

I sense Ida standing up and feel her slide her arm around my waist and give me a gentle squeeze, but I don’t look at her. I don’t want her to see the frustration in my eyes.

It feels good to have her next to me though.

‘Well, it’s wonderful to have you here to celebrate your brother’s wedding,’ my dad says after a short tense silence. ‘Darian is made up that you’ve come. And I see you’ve brought someone with you.’ He turns to Ida now and holds out his hand. ‘I’m Gianni, Raffa’s dad, in case that wasn’t obvious,’ he says, using his fawning voice that always makes me shudder with discomfort. There’s nothing worse than seeing your parents trying to flirt.

Ida doesn’t seem to mind though because she grasps my dad’s hand and gives it a shake, smiling widely at him.