“This is why I never brought you here,” he whispered as he came to stand beside me, extending his elbow to me. “This is not me. This Ethan doesn’t exist.”
I circled his arm and squeezed it. “I love my version of Ethan just fine.”
He looked down at me with a relieved smile. “Let’s just be done with it,” he added as we started going down the stone path to the marble stairs leading to the gigantic black entrance door, where a couple of men also dressed in red were standing straight, their arms behind their back.
The older of the two bowed. “Mr. St-John. I’m glad you could join us for the evening.”
Ethan smiled, bowing his head slightly. “George, good to see you.”
I tried to keep my face blank but still glanced at Ethan, his voice the same and yet all different; his tone deeper, his accent just a little posher. This was not my Ethan.
The older man opened the door and we stepped into the biggest hall I'd ever seen. I looked up at the high ceiling, which featured magnificent moldings and what looked like a crystal chandelier.
“I think this hallway is bigger than my flat,” I whispered, still looking around in awe.
“Everything is bigger than your flat, love.”
“Wanker,” I muttered as he laughed.
We walked into the room on the right, which turned out to be a massive ballroom, full of people dressed up as in a movie.
“It feels like we’re inThe Crown.”
Ethan looked around the sea of people. “You might see a few of them here tonight.”
“Seriously Ethan, how rich is your family?”
He looked down and was about to answer when a joyful voice interrupted him.
“Oh Ethan, you’re finally here.” His mom stepped in front of us in a black-and-gold ballgown that I was sure was not a hire and her hair was in a perfect bun on top of her head, circled by a row of shiny stones, which were clearly not moissanites.
“Sorry Mother, the traffic was horrendous.” He bent down and kissed her cheek.
She sighed. “Yes, well, I told you to move to the neighborhood. There’s a lovely house going up for sale at the end of the street for only twelve million.” She winked at me with a conspiratorial smile. “Messy divorce, you know? Maybe your father and I can buy it as a wedding present. What do you say?” She let her eyes glide down to my engagement ring and I moved my hand, much too worried she would see right through us.
“We’ll discuss this some other time. Tonight is Father’s night, isn’t it?”
“Indeed.” She concentrated on me, her blue eyes assessing as they did every time she saw me, which thank goodness, wasn’t very often. “Ava, dear, you are absolutely mesmerizing tonight. A real jewel of the Nile.”
I smiled as Ethan cleared his throat. It was racist, even if it was not meant to be. I was half Iranian from my mother and half Irish from my father, but my mother’s genes were clearly dominant and I was immensely proud of it.
“Thank you,” I replied, not even bothering to let her know that Egypt was more than 1,400 miles away from my mother’s birthplace.
“Versace?” she asked appreciatively while inspecting my dress.
Damn, Ethan had been right. This woman was a fashion expert.
“It is,” I confirmed.
She cocked her head to the side. “Last season though, isn’t it?”
“Mother…” Ethan trailed off with barely veiled irritation.
“What?” She rested her hand on her chest. “She’s your fiancée, Ethan. She needs to be spoiled.”
I leaned against him and rested my free hand on his chest. “This one is on me, actually. I know Versace is your favorite designer and I wanted to please you but, between you and me, I’m not a fan of this year's collection, which is why I bought this one.”
She visibly mollified at my attempt to butter her up.