“You’ve done this now. You’re in it. There’s no way I’ll have a son of mine walking away from a commitment he’s made to someone.”
“Carina,” Dad snaps. “We cannot let this nobody get his hands on our money.”
“Grandfather’s money,” I smoothly correct. Being left out of the will is still a sore spot for him, and damned if I’m going to walk out of here without taking a few little jabs of my own.
“What does this boydo?”
“He’s the sole heir to a large cryptocurrency inheritance.”
Dad throws up his hands. “Play money. Pretend money. Dammit, Émile, I thought you were smarter than that!”
“It’s not exactly play money when we’re talking tens of millions of dollars.”
He huffs, clearly to mark his disapproval, because while it’s a lot of money, it has nothing on our fortunes.
“New money is always a risk,” Gran says, weighing her words. “There’s a reason we’re careful of who we marry. These …peopleknow nothing of tradition or business. They fritter away their money on cheap thrills and tacky cars, and when things get too hard, they leave. We’ve never had a divorce in hundreds of years of family history, and I’ll be damned if I allow this union to go ahead and forthis boyto make a mockery of everything we’ve built.”
The amount of self-control I need to keep my mouth closed is herculean, but I somehow pull it off. “Noted.”
“End. It.” Her piercing gaze almost has me agreeing, but luckily Mom gets there first.
“Think of the gossip. The scandal.” Nothing about her face or her tone gives away that she’s talking about anything other than the weather. “You know what social media is like these days, I’ll be surprised if the news of his engagement hasn’t already spread like wildfire.”
“Social media.” Dad makes a snarling noise. For a man who’s supposed to be refined, he certainly devolves into animalistic tendencies while mad.
I rock onto my heels, trying to convey my sheer lack of interest in this whole conversation. No matter what decision they think they’re coming to, when I walk out of here, the only thing I’m planning to do is spend time with my fake fiancé. Although, can it still be considered fake if I bought a ring, proposed, and he said yes? The semantics are making my head spin.
Gran’s hands tense in her lap, the only outward sign she’ll allow that she’s not in control of the situation. I’ve only seen the gesture three other times in my life.
Once, whenthatpresident was voted in, a second time when a storm took out one of our shipping warehouses, and the third at Pa’s funeral.
“You’ve made your bed, Émile. And God help you if you embarrass this family.”
My smile is smugger than I mean it to be. “Don’t worry, I honestly don’t think that’s possible at this point.”
I’m feeling good that things are full steam ahead when we walk back out into the main room, and I immediately know something is up. Elle’s standing by the tea table, laughing her arse off, and Christian is beside her, beet red, hands in the air like a busted perp. Hey, at least he’s not throwing around Trek Wars signs this time.
I approach cautiously to the sound of Christian’s stammered apologies.
“What’s … what’s happening here?” I ask.
My cousin, Neil, answers first. “Your little boy toy grabbed my ass!”
Oh dear lord. There’s that need to laugh hysterically again.
“Umm …”
“I thought it was you,” Christian gasps, mouth gaping open like a fish.
In Christian’s defense, we do look remarkably alike. And with his hands in the air like that, he’s really showing off my ring.
“I donotappreciate unsolicited fondling,” Neil snaps.
I pull a face. “Well, that’s one large difference between the two of us. Maybe my fiancé’s hand didn’t appreciate a strange ass in it. Or a strangebuttockfor that matter.”
Before Neil can catch on to what I’ve said, I roll my eyes at Elle and steer Christian away.
“I can’t leave you for one second, can I?” I ask indulgently.