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I was given a lot of information about the dinner before we left, including who I can expect to see there. Ronan flashed some photos of coworkers of his that may be there.
Jerry was late in handing us our files that contained our covers, and I had to memorize everything quickly. Ronan said we couldn’t bring them with us.
“Who are you?” he asks.
“Sydney Miller. God, that’s such an ugly name,” I make a face.
He ignores me. “When did we meet?”
“About a year and a half ago.” Short enough that it’s reasonable the relationship isn’t as public as some, but long enough that there shouldn’t be too many questions asked on why we got married so soon.
“When did we get married?”
“Two days ago.”
“Good girl,” he says, nodding.
I like the sound of that.
“Okay, well, what do we do when we see Jeffrey?” Ronan had told me a little of what to expect, but we hadn’t explicitly talked about what I should say when we see him. That is if we even speak to him. He said that there’s a good chance we don’t and that this dinner is just to be seen.
“You talk to him. Answer his questions. I trust you to be smart about what to say if I’m not there. You show off that rock on your finger. Show everyone that you’re mine.”
“This isn’t a pissing contest, Ronan. I’m not yours.”
“Right now, you are. To every single man in that room, you’re mine.”
As much as one part of my brain hates the sound of belonging to someone, the other part doesn’t hate it. In fact, I love it.
I hide behind my hair, afraid he’ll see the blush creep down my neck.
We come to a stop in front of a large mansion. Before I make a move to get out, his hand lands on my thigh.
“You’re going to behave, right?”
I smile, my teeth grinding together. “Ronan baby, husband of mine, light of my life… you should know better than to ask that.”
SEVENTEEN
SYDNEY
I’ve never seen somany rich people in my life, and that’s saying something.
Although my parents had regular visitors at the house, and despite going to the private school I attended, I’ve never been around such riches.
Guards meet us at the door, and Ronan hands him an invitation, giving him our names. The man scans a code on the invitation, which brings up a photo of him. Once they’re sure we are who we say we are, he lets us through.
The entryway is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Beautiful marble floors are adorned with the most beautiful double staircases I’ve ever seen, leading up to a landing against the back wall. A giant, beautiful cubism painting hangs against the wall, a rock sconce on either side of it, casting a light glow over the surface.
To the right is a dining hall, the walls covered in dozens of art pieces, while a small stage is set up against the main wall, a microphone sitting on top of it.
People dressed in the most expensive dresses I’ve ever seen line the entryway and overflow into the dining hall, the low hum of conversation radiating through me.
“Oh wow,” I say, starting to fidget with my simple silver necklace sitting against my chest.
A firm, warm hand envelopes mine, bringing it next to us. I look at our intertwined hands, my gaze lifting to meet his.
“We got this, okay?” he asks, his voice low. “We have to turn it on now; remember the goal.” Although he’s completely serious and borderline intense, his voice is sweet. Relaxing. He just wants me to calm down so I don’t blow the mission. I know that. But I love it.
