Vows Of Deception

Rose

“You’re ignoring your date. Again.” I nudge my friend Bonnie, as she takes the empty seat beside me for the third time during this wedding reception.

“I could say the same for you, Rose,” Bonnie retorts, staring pointedly at Greg, my own date, who is way across the room with a group of guys, laughing and arguing over something.

The man is great for booty calls, he’s just not the attentive date type, which works for me.

Although the bride and groom have long disappeared, the party shows no signs of slowing down with music from the string quartet blending into the laughter and chatter.

I take a deep breath and the smell of the white roses I’d splurged on hit me again, drawing my attention to the large arrangements on each table. The dent in my savings is so worth it.

I release my breath on a contented sigh, glad that the day turned out even better than I’d hoped. “I’m the maid of honor, Bonnie, I’m busy.”

Well, I was busy. Not anymore though. Now that Brooke and Xavier have finally jetted off on their honeymoon, people are starting to really let their hair down, moving between tables and indulging in food, wine and lively conversation.

I turn to Bonnie, “What’s your own excuse for leaving Sam by himself? You said he was ‘great arm candy’ when you met him three hours ago.” I air quote, mimicking her.

“Yeah, he is, nothing wrong there.” Bonnie pinches her thumb and index finger together and squints, “He’s just a tad boring.”

I notice however, that Bonnie isn’t looking at her date when she says that last part. Instead, she’s glaring daggers into the back of Ethan’s head.

“Besides,” Bonnie continues, no doubt satisfied that she has now annihilated Ethan with her laser gaze, “Sabrina’s keeping him company.” She nods to where Sabrina, our other friend, smiles then shakes Sam’s hand before sauntering away.

“Nope, Sabrina’s not keeping him company. She’s just offered the man a modeling job at her gallery.”

Bonnie reaches out and plucks a white rose from the confection on the table. “At least he landed himself a gig. What’s there to complain about?”

My response gets snatched out of me because the bane of my existence, the best man of this wedding, Ryan Anderson, leaves the group of men at the back of the room and starts to walk toward our table.

I don’t plan to stare, my eyes just aren’t taking instructions to look away. And it seems I’m not the only one with that particular problem. A few heads are turning around the room. The man moves like a panther – sleek and arresting.

I’d love to see his family photos because, damn, if those aren’t good genes.

Easily one of the tallest men in the room, he’s broad and muscular, but in a way that makes his overall look graceful rather than overpowering. With sandy blonde hair, deep blue eyes, and a jaw that seems hewn out of granite, Ryan Anderson is one hell of a show-stopper, a fact that is, unfortunately, not lost on him.

Bonnie pretends to fan herself. “That man is smoking hot. Quick, Rose,” she passes me a napkin, “catch the drool leaking out the side of your mouth before he gets here!”

I can’t help the answering laugh that bubbles out of me, which is the last thing Ryan’s overinflated ego needs. A couple of grown-ass women giggling like teenagers because he’s on his way over.

I tear my eyes away from him to face Bonnie. “Yes, I’m sure the whole of Manhattan’s womenfolk would agree he’s quite something to look at, but that’s where the appeal ends, isn’t it?”

Unfortunately, for me, it’s not. I’m intrigued by him. And I hate that he gets to me easily. That I always seem to do whatever he tells me, and while I won’t admit this on the pain of death, those nights I’m seeking relief from my own fingers, it’s always his face I see when I’m tumbling over the waves of ecstasy.

But more than anything, it’s his smile I can’t get over. The blinding smile that never reaches his cold blue eyes. Its playful edge draws me in, yet there’s something equally chilling about that smile.

“Sorry to burst your bubble,” Bonnie laughs again then takes a sip of my champagne. “But he’s packing a lot more than looks. He’s got a name that swings all kinds of doors wide open—and slams them shut. We’re talking old money here.”

Although you couldn’t tell by speaking to the guy just how wealthy he is. You’d be too busy trying not to poke him with something sharp out of sheer irritation. “Ugh. Well, I can’t stand him. And the feeling is mutual.”

“Hell no, not with the way he looks at you. Sabrina and I think he likes you, Rose. Maybe you could try to be a bit nicer.”

I roll my eyes, dropping my voice to a whisper and speaking faster as Ryan gets nearer. “Bonnie, he looks at every female like they’re juicy game and he’s the hunter. He probably has women falling all over him with that well-practiced smolder.”

Bonnie snorts into her drink. “Hey, pot, meet kettle.”

“I’m so not like him,” I say with a dismissive wave.

“Yes, you are. We both are, dear. We don’t do commitments or boyfriends. So, you see, you and Ryan have a lot more in common than you think. Maybe if you two found an empty room and a locked door, you’d be able to resolve your monumental issues. We are, after all, in a hotel. Waste not—”

I interrupt her, scoffing. “Bonnie, I know you’re not suggesting—”

Bonnie cuts in right back. “I am suggesting it, recommending it even. Anyway, here he comes. I’m out. See you later babes.”

Bonnie throws him a flirtatious smile as she leaves and he responds with the subtle wink of a seasoned charmer.

“Hey, darling.” Ryan drawls, taking the seat Bonnie vacated.

I grit my teeth. “What?”

His smile gets wider. “Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine today? Anyway, I’ve been wanting to talk to you all evening.”

“Why? To give me another long list of what I should do?”

The past couple of months leading up to the wedding have been crazy. I don’t think I’ve spoken to another human being as much as I’ve spoken to Ryan during that time.

I now know things about the man that only a roommate should.

Like the fact that he’s a morning person because he usually calls at the crack of dawn, sounding as energetic as a terrier while I feel like death warmed over.

I know he gets headaches when he doesn’t get his beauty sleep. Or sex. I’m still trying to work out which one is true and which is false.

And despite pretending otherwise with Bonnie earlier, I’m well aware that Ryan comes from a family so old they still use ‘lineage’ to describe which side of the family tree they come from. He could probably trace his ancestors back to the Stone Age, recounting how his clan occupied the biggest cave in existence.

Ryan chuckles. “Relax, Rose. There are no more errands or ‘to-do’ lists. The best man and maid of honor duties are officially over. I only wanted to say that I think you’re an amazing friend and you did a great job. Brooke was speechless with joy today.”

A reluctant smile pulls at my lips. “Yeah she loved it, didn’t she?”

“Yes, she did.” He continues to look at me expectantly. When I say nothing, he raises a single eyebrow in a gesture that draws my attention to his arresting eyes.

He looks away but says, “Rose, that was your cue to say something along the lines of, ‘Ryan, you too were great.’ Actually, for future reference, I prefer the term ‘magnificent’.”

I roll my eyes, shaking my head. “First off, there’s no universe, present or future, where I’d use that word to describe you. And second, you’re telling me you need yet another person to inflate your ego? How is it that your head hasn’t burst yet?”

“Aha, so it’s on your mind, you just don’t want to admit it. Come on, let it out. It’s always better out than in.”

“What?”

“Those feelings. And for the record, I think you’re smoking hot too.”

I only smile, choosing not to engage. This is our usual dance: he baits, I try to resist biting, I fail and somehow end up wanting to throttle him while he seems to get a kick out of it. Not today. “I’m sure you didn’t come all this way just to flatter me.”

Casting a quick glance at my strapless navy organza dress and lingering just a moment too long on the large butterfly tattoo on my back, he leans away with a smirk. “No, flattery wasn’t my only agenda. I thought we agreed on a best man and maid of honor dance as the final act of the evening?”

“Yep, about that, I nixed it from the program last minute. Sorry.” I’m not the least bit sorry.

Ryan chuckles. “Rose, why on earth would you run back to the printers and scrap it after we agreed to do it?”

“You make it sound like I did something scandalous or forbidden.”

“I told you. It’s bad luck not to do it.”

“For the Anderson ancestry maybe, but not in the twenty-first century where the rest of us live.”

“So you’re saying you don’t want to dance with me?”