THE BILLIONAIRE’S TEMPORARY WIFE

Chapter 8: The Ashford Gala

Zara's pov

I'd survived drunk businessmen twice my size… I told myself a room full of silk dresses couldn't be worse.

Marta had brought three dress bags into my room that afternoon.

"Mr. Vance's stylist selected these," she said. "He said any of the three would be appropriate."

"Appropriate for what, a coronation?" I unzipped the first bag and nearly choked on the price tag still dangling from the sleeve. "Marta, this costs more than six months of my rent used to."

"Used to," she said gently, and I didn't have a good answer for that.

I picked the navy one.

Ethan knocked once and let himself in before I'd finished deciding whether I hated the earrings. He stopped in the doorway, tie half-knotted, and didn't say anything for a second too long.

"What," I said.

"Nothing. You look…" He cleared his throat, finished knotting his tie instead of finishing the sentence. "You'll be fine tonight."

"That's not what you were going to say."

"It's what I'm saying now." He smirked. "Are you ready for this?"

"I've dealt with worse crowds. Drunk finance guys twice my size trying to grab my waist on a Friday night… I can handle some women in silk dresses judging my table manners."

"It's not really about table manners."

"Then what is it about?"

He considered that longer than I expected. "It's about whether they decide you belong. Fair or not, that's the game tonight."

"Sounds exhausting."

"It is." He held out his arm. "Try not to let them see that it's working."

The car ride to the Ashford estate took twenty-five minutes.

"Cordelia Whitmore," he said, as we turned up the long drive lined with valets in white gloves. "She'll find you within the first ten minutes. She always does."

"The one from dinner? Down-to-earth, was it?"

"That's her. She's Victor's second cousin, and she's spent thirty years deciding who's acceptable in rooms like this one. Don't let her rattle you."

"I don't rattle."

"I know." Something in his voice when he said it made my chest go warm despite myself. "That's why I'm not worried about tonight."

"Anyone else I should know about before we walk in there?"

"A few. Senator Hale's wife will ask about your family… deflect, don't lie, she can smell a lie from across a room. The Okafor twins run half the shipping insurance market between them, so if either one talks to you, that's not small talk, that's an audition." He glanced over. "And avoid Bill Preston if you can. He drinks too much by nine and says things he shouldn't within earshot of reporters."

"You make it sound like a minefield."

"It is one. I just usually know where the mines are."

"And tonight?"

"Tonight I'm not entirely sure who's planted new ones." He said it lightly.

He was wrong within the first fifteen minutes, though not about me rattling… about how fast Cordelia would find me. We'd barely made it past the receiving line before she appeared at my elbow like she'd been standing there the whole time, waiting.

"There she is." Cordelia's smile arrived a full second before her eyes did, which told me everything I needed to know about how genuine it was. "Zara, darling. What a stunning dress. Is it new?"

"It is."

"How lovely, to have someone dressing you now." She said it light, "Such a change of pace, I'd imagine."

"A change of pace from what, exactly?"

"Oh, you know." She waved a hand, rings catching the chandelier light. "From dressing yourself."

I smiled back at her, matching her energy exactly. "I've always dressed myself, Cordelia. I just used to have a smaller budget for it. The results were the same either way."

Something flickered behind her eyes. "How refreshing. Most girls in your position get so defensive."

"I'm not defensive. I'm just not going to let you talk down to me quietly and pretend it was a compliment. If you want to say something, say it plainly. I can take it."

A pause. Then, unexpectedly, something that might have been respect crossed her face before she smoothed it away. "Ethan certainly picked an interesting one this time."

"He didn't pick me. I said yes." I held her gaze. "There's a difference."

"Is there?" Cordelia tilted her head, "How very modern of you both. Tell me, is it a spring wedding energy or more of a… practical arrangement?"

"I think you already know the answer to that, or you wouldn't be asking it that way."

"Clever girl. Well, I suppose we'll all find out together how long this particular arrangement lasts."

"I suppose you will."

She smiled again, sharper this time, and drifted off toward a cluster of women near the bar before I could answer further.

I found Ethan by the terrace doors a few minutes later, deep in conversation with two men in nearly identical gray suits, and he excused himself the second he saw my face.

"Survived Cordelia already?" he asked.

"Barely. She complimented my dress like it was an accusation."

"That's her signature move." He glanced past me toward the cluster of women now watching us. "What did you say back?"

"I told her I've always dressed myself, I just used to have a smaller budget."

He laughed, "She's not used to people saying things back."

"Good. Someone should start."

"Careful." He said it warm, "You keep doing that and this whole room's going to have to recalculate what they think they know about you."

"Let them."

A waiter passed with a tray of champagne, and I took one out of habit before remembering I couldn't drink it. Ethan noticed, but he didn't say anything, just gently took it from my fingers a moment later and set it on a passing tray, replacing it with sparkling water.

"You don't have to do that," I murmured.

"Do what?"

"Cover for me. Nobody's watching that closely."

"Somebody's always watching that closely," he said, quiet enough that only I could hear it.

Before I could ask what he meant, Gerald appeared at his elbow with an apologetic look, and Ethan excused himself with a squeeze of my hand.

"I'll find you in ten minutes," he said. "Don't let Cordelia corner you again."

"I make no promises."

He smiled and let Gerald pull him toward the far side of the room.

I wandered toward the terrace doors instead, needing air more than I needed another conversation about my dress, and that was when I saw Ethan crossing back through the crowd toward me, having apparently finished whatever Gerald needed.

He held out his arm, "Ready?" he asked. "They're about to announce us properly. Whole receiving line thing. It's tradition."

"Lead the way."

As I stepped into the ballroom on Ethan's arm, Victor Ashford turned, smiled at me like he already knew something I didn't, and said, "What a lovely surprise you've turned out to be."