Flynn was sweating when we piled back into the limo.
In front of the hotel, I was wobbling a little on the curb as everyone piled back out. I gave Zane a serious once-over, and my most managerial stare down. “That was the sexiest karaoke, ever. And karaoke is never sexy. So you do the math on that.”
He pulled me close and steered me into the hotel. “You’re drunk,” he whispered in my ear, his hot breath on my neck making me shiver.
“Am not.”
I kinda was.
We said good night to Dizzy and Maxxi. They were wasted and my dad hardly noticed our departure. At least he’d stayed coherent enough to witness the wedding; that was all that really mattered.
Still… would it have killed him to offer a half-hearted “Congratulations” or a hug or something?
Apparently.
He was too busy pawing Miss Barely Legal to even say goodbye.
As Flynn dropped us at our door, I convinced myself it was all for the best. No point drawing this out. It was done, and now I could leave my dad hanging as long as I wanted to. For all he knew, I could spend the rest of my life happily married to Zane, a man he obviously admired. A lot. It’s not like he’d notice we weren’t actually together. My dad and I didn’t live in the same city. Christ; Zane and I didn’t even live in the same city. I still lived in Vancouver, where I’d grown up and where Brody also still lived. Zane lived down in L.A. most of the time.
Dizzy now lived in Vegas.
Yeah. He’d never know. Not if we didn’t tell him.
He’d never been the world’s most observant father.
When Zane and I walked into the penthouse suite, that fact was made abundantly clear. Not only had Dizzy bought into our little charade, he’d bought into it so hard, it had inspired him to do something totally out of character. Something thoughtful.
He’d put his staff to work for us, big time.
The big double doors leading into the master bedroom stood open. Red and white rose petals had been scattered along the floor, leading a trail up the three stairs into the room and straight to the massive bed. The bed had been covered with a fluffy white duvet, turned down to reveal white satin sheets. Giant bouquets of exotic flowers burst from vases set atop every available surface. There was a fruit tray and chocolate truffles and fresh oysters on ice. And a card, which I opened. It was signed in a hand that wasn’t my dad’s.
With my deepest blessings. Dizzy.
What a fucking tool. Like I gave two shits about his blessings.
I passed the card to Zane. He scanned it and tossed it aside.
Dizzy had never done anything like this for me before. Not when I graduated high school or college, not when Dirty hired me, not when I bought my first home. Nothing I’d ever done had warranted more than an absent “Good for you, sweetheart” when we’d spoken over the phone. Which was how I knew this had exactly zero to do with me.
This little display was for Zane.
Correction; actually, it was for Dizzy himself. To make him look like father of the year in the eyes of my new rock star husband.
Good luck with that, Dad.
Oh, and there was more champagne. Because that’s just what I needed; more booze.
I stumbled a little as Zane let me go. He’d kept his arm around my waist all the way up to the room, and he eyed me warily as I got my footing. Whatever. My high heels were high. Yes, I’d had a bit to drink while we were out. Maybe a bit too much. But who could blame me? I’d just gotten pretend-married on a moment’s notice to Zane in front of my dad, who thought it was real.
Obviously I understood why Zane was going dry, but I wasn’t the one with the drinking problem. So why should I suffer through a night with Dizzy sober?
In the limo, it was Zane himself who’d handed me a flute of bubbly. I had no idea if my dad had a clue that Zane didn’t drink. Zane just passed politely on the liquor, and no one seemed to care. Zane didn’t bat an eye as I sipped the champagne, and honestly… maybe I did it to force some distance between us.
He said he didn’t do chicks who’d been drinking. What better way to ensure he wouldn’t try to feel me up when we got back to the hotel than getting a little buzz on?
I watched him take off his vest and kick off his boots. I still had the bouquet of tulips he’d given me, which had miraculously survived our bar-hopping. I went to put the flowers in a jug of water in the kitchen, avoiding his eyes, and told myself not to feel guilty for being a little inebriated.
This wasn’t actually our wedding night.
Yes, it felt weird drinking in front of Zane. At least, for the first couple of drinks. But we were in and out of so many bars tonight and people were indulging all around us. What difference could it make if I had a few?
It was Zane who’d convinced me to do body shots off a waitress. That was at the strip club Dizzy decided we should hit. It was also Zane who bought me a lap dance. From a chick, which wasn’t exactly my thing. She took us into one of the private rooms and I endured it for about a minute, because it made Zane laugh. But then I decided it would be a hell of a lot more fun making her sit in the chair and teach me some moves. And damn, did I ever work my tiny pink dress.
At least, it was fun until
