“I’ll hand it to you, Benji’s a good choice. He draws people in. He’s instantly likable. Charming to the nth degree.”
“Prince Charming,” comes another female voice over my shoulder.
I turn to find a stunning woman standing in our midst. She’s wearing black pants with a barely-there gray pinstripe design and a white button-down shirt open at the collar. A haphazardly knotted loose black tie hangs from the neck of the shirt. Her hand is bedecked in platinum rings, her fingernails painted black. She’s very tall, with a pair of high-heeled shoes helping her out in the height department.
She sips brown liquid, scotch or whiskey, from a rocks glass. When she lowers it, the ice clinks against the side. “I don’t suppose Archer Owen shares his brother’s disposition?”
Vivian bursts out laughing but sobers quickly, like she remembered the other woman is an interloper. She blinks back to her serious self. “I’m sorry, can we help you with something?”
Her response sounds rude to me. I resist flinching. The woman doesn’t so much as bat an eyelash. “Talia Richards.”
Vivian shakes Talia’s hand and introduces herself. I do the same.
“I’m opening a spa soon, and I’m interested in attracting celebrity clientele. I heard the Owens were in town. I’ve also heard of Archer’s ability to draw such attention. I apologize for the interruption, but I recognized you from across the room. You’re Nathaniel’s fiancée.”
“You’ve done your research.” Vivian’s narrowed eyes hint she’s suspicious of Talia’s motives, but Viv’s tone is almost impressed. “Have you contacted Owen Headquarters?”
“Not my style.” Talia shakes her head, sending her long, chestnut-colored hair swirling around her. “I find I make a better impact in person.”
I bet. She’s gorgeous, sharp, strong-willed. But her take-charge attitude can’t mask the tenderness emanating off her. She’s intriguing. I won’t forget her when she walks away, and if she does talk to Archer, neither will he.
“Would you like me to introduce you?” Vivian offers, proving my theory—she’s impressed. “It’s a bit selfish on my part, I admit. I sort of want to watch him react to you.”
Talia grins, her green eyes crinkling prettily at the corners. I sort of want to watch too. Her wide mouth and layered dark hair are definitely Archer’s style. It’s rare, but I’ve seen him with women over the years. Unlike Benji, he has a type. Talia is it.
“So, he’s not like his happier brother or your genial fiancé?”
“Nate has his moments, but no, Archer’s not going to be as cooperative, I’m afraid,” Vivian answers.
“We’ll see,” Talia murmurs, shooting a glance across the room at where Archer and his brothers are standing.
“We really don’t mind making the introduction. He might be more receptive,” I tell her, meaning it. Archer’s not an asshole, but he can be intimidating to people who don’t know him.
“Also not my style.” Talia’s smile is friendly before she looks over her shoulder at Archer once again. Like he feels her gaze, he turns his head, notices us, and then does a double take at the woman standing with us. After a lingering glance I know Talia doesn’t miss, he turns back to his brothers, pretending as if he didn’t react.
“That,” I tell Talia, “is his style. Good luck.”
“I’ll approach him after dinner. Lions are grouchier before they eat. Lovely to meet you both. Cris, Vivian.”
She walks away and joins a woman and a man on the other side of the room.
“I’ve never been one for voyeurism but I really wanted to watch.” Vivian finishes her champagne.
“Same,” I agree, and then finish mine as well.
Cocktail hour drags on, which was surely determined ahead of time. The more the guests drink, the more money they’ll donate to the cause. I don’t expect dinner to be satiating. These events tend to serve tiny portions on tinier plates. It’s all about bite-sized hors d’oeuvres, not a filling dinner. Someone’s going to give a speech later—probably several someones—and carb-loading guests will guarantee at least a few of them nod off.
The mingling continues, and Vivian and I have been working the room. Like me, mingling comes as naturally to her as breathing. I just wrapped up a conversation with a statesman when I detect the scent of delicate, expensive perfume. I half expect to find Talia, thinking she’s changed her mind about an introduction to Archer. When I turn around, I regret the smile I pasted on my face. It was too genuine for the likes of Marla Hearst.
“What an absolutely beautiful dress.” Her cartoon-villain smile prevents the compliment from sounding sincere. “I take back what I said about the color red. You’re gorgeous wearing it. Especially with your pale blond hair. I wish I could pull off my natural hair color. These platinum and caramel streaks come with a hefty price tag.” Her laugh is less evil now, almost desperate.
Maybe that’s why I don’t care for her. Beneath her shallow surface, she has no confidence in herself. When I ran into her earlier, my own confidence flagged, but with good reason. She was very clearly putting me in my place. A woman of her stature and wealth should hold herself like… Well, she should hold herself more like Vivian. Or Talia. Talia, I liked immediately. Marla, I disliked from the first time I met her. Admittedly, that could have had to do with her flirting with Benji. Later, she asked me to set up a drink for them at a cozy bar so they could “talk.” I wasn’t thrilled at the idea of her seducing him. Even now, the memory sours my stomach.
Her dark eyes sparkle as her gaze wanders over my shoulder. “Benji! There you are. I have been looking everywhere for you. Where have you been hiding?”
She’s plastered against his side so fast I have to move out of the way to keep her from stepping on my toes. He catches her slim waist beneath one palm as she lays a kiss on his cheek. If he hadn’t turned his head, she could’ve easily placed that kiss on his lips. I feel my blood boil at the same time I remind myself there’s no reason to be jealous. Especially when he sets her at arm’s length and greets her professionally.
“Marla. How have you been?”