IN LOVE BY MISTAKE

Mandy’s POV Oakwood Castle looks like a storybook dipped in champagne. It is unlike anything I have ever seen, and for a moment, I dare to think that I actually belong here. In London. Garlands snake up the banisters inside the grand living room, and in the background, "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" plays like the song still believes in happy endings. I raise my red dress in one hand and move further into the small crowd, where I only know one person. I smile at everyone that looks my way, laugh like I am not broke, like I am not lost. Like I am not flying back to Paris in two days to teach seven-year-olds how to paint snowmen with finger paint just because the school can’t afford brushes. I hate my job, but it isn’t why I am here tonight. “Stop staring at the doors,” Stephanie laughs beside me, linking her arms through mine. Her curls make her stand out in the dimly lit space. “I’m not going to let you run away. And besides, it is an engagement party. Enjoy it.” “It’s hard to do that when I don’t even know a soul,” I murmur, my eyes scanning the room. I don’t know the couple, and I doubt they even want strangers in here. But what I am good at is blending in. I have been doing it all my life. "Come on," she laughs, dragging me to the bar. "Two French 75s," Stephanie tells the bartender, then suddenly, she freezes. I look sideways at her when she lowers her voice and leans into me. Her fingers dig into my exposed arm with urgency. "Okay," she whispers. "Heads-up. Orion's here." My forehead scrunches in confusion. “Who?” “Gabriel’s best friend. He’s a freaking billionaire, and looks like some Greek god personally molded him.” "Hmmm," I drawl like I am actually enjoying the conversation. The bartender returns with our drinks, and I allow my fingers to curl around one glass, bringing it to my lips. "Who's Gabriel again?" "The groom, silly!" Stephanie swipes at my hands playfully. "The bride, Amaya, has a plan to set him up with her friend. I think that is the reason he is here tonight, because it usually takes heaven and earth to get him out of his house. Or his company." “How do you know all this?” She shrugs and flicks her hair back with style. "I live for the gossip." Someone calls her in the crowd, and Stephanie waltzes over there without another word, grabbing her glass. I slide further into the stool and bring my drink to my lips, taking a low sip. Another person comes over to me, shy and pretty. "Oh, hi," she murmurs. "I love your dress." "Omg," I play the practiced act, bringing one hand over my mouth, with my eyes crinkling in false pleasure. "Thank you. You look really good, too." I join in the conversation with her and her friends. They start talking about art and want to know where I work. “With kids,” I tell them. It sounds wholesome and not like, “if I don’t eat rice twice a day, my rent will eat me instead.” But I can’t tell them that I am drowning in debts and that my job with kids does not give me the satisfaction I crave. Abruptly, my attention wavers when he steps into my line of vision. I notice him immediately because he seems to pull all the attention in the room to himself. My fingers curl tighter around my glass as I drink him in, angling my head slightly. Tall, dark hair that seems to fight with the gel on it, black eyes, like the hour during midnight that strikes before dawn. He is in a tux that fits like a glove, and the expression on his face says he hates crowds and is only standing here out of courtesy. Those dark eyes roam the space, as if searching for someone. And then, our eyes meet. I feel it in my pulse. It tingles slowly, deliciously. Nope, I tell myself. I am not in London to get distracted. This is supposed to be a break. I pull my gaze away from him, but he doesn’t. "Hi," he murmurs in a low, polished voice that sounds bored. I stop. “Sorry?” His gaze flicks through me. My dress, my face, my mouth. “I just don’t want you to waste your time thinking you have a chance.” My head jerks back in surprise, yet I keep my tone light. “This makes absolutely no sense, and I think I am offended.” "Let's save us both time. I'm sure you are a busy person." He leans on the shelf, and his scent hits me. Earth and wood. I try not to take a whiff. Instead, I hold my breath and look away from his eyes. Those damn eyes. “Tell your friend that you tried. Or tell her anything you want to, that I am flattered. That you got a good look at me. Whatever. And you can tell your expectant followers that you got a good picture of me in the castle.” “I don’t even have a ring light,” I reply, swallowing down the fury in my throat. “Also, I don’t think I know you. Do I know you?” He scoffs, the corner of his lips lifting slightly but never growing into a full smile. “Of course.” "Do you usually insult strangers at Christmas engagement parties, or is this a one-off thing?" He leans away from the shelf. “Thank you for your time.” Scoffing, I slide out of the stool and grab my clutch, walking away from him. My friend finds me near the base of the stairs. “You good?” I nod. “This place doesn’t look like it wants me.” “Come on,” she nudges me playfully. “Give it more time.” The groom comes into my line of vision, closely followed by the man with the dark eyes. The one who still makes my pulse race. “Have you met Samaya?" The bride, Amaya, chirps, holding on to Gabriel. "She's around in the hall somewhere. I told you what she was wearing, right?" “Yeah,” the man says, his gaze dragging past me, but not stopping. “I met her. Not interested.” A spoon hits a glass in the distance. “Game!”