I turn to face Perry once more, my nerves making me sweat. “She’s taking photos of us right now.”
“These aren’t official,” he says with a frown, his gaze lifting to watch Susan. He scowls at her, his jaw tightening, yet she keeps snapping away. “It’s no big deal.”
To him. Despite not wanting to participate in this photo session, we have a performance to make. And we need to be convincing. Or at least I do.
I want him to believe I want this. Maybe he’ll get swept up in the moment. Maybe he’ll be halfway convinced that I want to be with him. Men are simple creatures when it comes to sex, right? I flash a little leg and it renders Perry stupid.
What I need is to get over my wariness when it comes to men touching me and somehow convince Perry that I want him.
That’s going to be a challenge.
“We’re supposed to look like a happy couple who are in love, remember?” I allow him to pick up my hands because that looks real, right? Something a loving couple would do?
He’s clutching them tight, and his hands are large, with long fingers that interlace with mine. Despite how warm his hands are, I’m still filled with the sudden urge to pull away.
It’s just—automatic whenever someone puts their hands on me. I don’t like it when people touch me.
I never really have.
“Your hands are like ice,” he murmurs, giving them a squeeze. A distressed noise leaves me, but it’s as if he doesn’t even notice. “And don’t worry. I’ve already got you.”
“What do you mean?” Unable to take it, I pull my hands out of his, tempted to wipe them on my dress but I restrain myself.
“The ring issue. Took care of it.” He lifts his hand in greeting, smiling at my mother. “Mrs. Lancaster, hello.”
“Darling, call me Louisa. Please.”
I turn to find my mother is beaming at us—at Perry—clutching her hands in front of her chest, seemingly lovesick over his attention.
I follow after him as he heads toward her, withholding the urge to roll my eyes. She’s turned into his number one fangirl already. So annoying.
But then again, she’s the support I need as well, so I should tolerate her behavior.
“I was just telling Charlotte I finally got her ring back from the jeweler since I had to get it cleaned,” he says, the lie falling surprisingly easily from his perfect lips.
Wariness fills me. Typical. I wonder how often he lies. And to who.
“Oh. Of course. Since it’s a Constantine family heirloom,” Mother says, going along with his story. “We have plenty of those in the Lancaster vault.”
Hmm. These two are good.
Too good.
Perry reaches into the right front pocket of his trousers and pulls out a small black velvet box. My startled gaze meets his and he sends me a shrewd look, one that says,you thought I was lying, didn’t you?
Yes. I figured he was. I assumed he’d make up an excuse about the ring still being cleaned.
Instead, he’s clutching a ring box, his gaze sincere as he studies me. It could appear romantic if you didn’t know the truth. Handsome man in the middle of Central Park, a gentle September breeze blowing through his golden locks as he watches me with affection in his gaze.
More like amusement. This entire situation seems like one big game to him, while my entire world is crumbling.
Why does he act like this? Does he have nothing better to do?
You want me to marry someone, Mother? Will do!
I can literally imagine him saying exactly that. Maybe even saluting his mother since he’s such a good little soldier.
He’s probably a mama’s boy. Maybe he’s a people pleaser in general. Though that seems to go against the Constantine way, from what I’ve seen in my research on the family.