Page 30 of Fake Crown

“Always.” I let him lead me through the wedding guests, and the warmth from his hand travels straight to my heart.

Brent

If Posey wasn’t beside me through the cocktail hour and while dinner progressed, I may have done something stupid. Valentina’s hands and lips were all over Stephen each time I happened to glance in her direction. The emotion welling up in me isn’t jealousy; it’s anger. So many people at the wedding understand who she was to me just last week. For her to behave like this with Trevor’s asshole cousin is a kick in the teeth.

Given our pattern, my anger would have led me to get her alone, and she’d have broken my will with her lips or her hands or some other body part she offered up. Somewhere on this property, I would have fucked her, or she’d have had my dick in her mouth or grasped in her hand. There isn’t a doubt it would have gone exactly as my roommate Jaxon said. We’re not good for each other, but I’ve been incapable of saying no in the past.

Posey runs her hand along my thigh and leans close. “You doing okay? She’s putting on quite a show.”

“Fine, yeah.” I take a large sip of the wine in my glass. Trevor and Imani made their own, and I’ve either become a lightweight or the alcohol content in this is higher than normal. Drunk decision-making will get me into trouble too.

All the groomsmen and their dates are at one table, and the bridesmaids and their dates are at another. Unlike some weddings, the head dinner table is made up of family—siblings, parents, grandparents. The caterers are circulating, gathering up the last of the dessert plates, and all the speeches are done.

“If that changes, let me know. I’m very good at revenge PDA.” She gives me a sly smile before taking a sip from her glass.

“So humble too.”

“Humble is overrated. Know your strengths and play to them. No shame in that.” She turns in her chair and throws her arm over the back. “Of all the people to play the humble card, I didn’t have you pegged for that.”

“You don’t think I’m humble?”

“Do you think you’re humble?”

“You say play to your strengths. I say play to your audience. People don’t like cocky, even if you are.”

“People don’t like cocky?” Her brow furrows, and she feigns confusion. “What kind of world do you live in?”

“One where your brand of cockiness is cute, and mine is less so.”

“You can rub your cock-iness all over me whenever you want.”

I sputter on my sip of wine. She seems to enjoy catching me mid-drink. On impulse, I give her a quick kiss.

Posey glances in Val’s direction, but I didn’t do that for Val’s benefit. There’s something about Posey that hits me differently than any other girl ever has. Her company is truly enjoyable, and while she might experience that with every person in this room, I don’t.

One of the catering employees appears at our table to invite us to get a drink from the bar while they set up the dance floor.

“Bathroom,” I say to Posey as we rise.

“I’ll meet you at the bar,” she says, and she waves to Natalie before heading to her and Sebastian, who are gathering their things from a table near the back of the room.

My wine-addled brain takes a moment to remember where the bathrooms are. When I come out, Val is standing against the opposite wall with her arms crossed.

“We need to talk,” she says.

“No,” I say. “No, we do not.”

“Brent, we were together for more than a year. You owe me a little more explanation than what you gave me outside the athletics complex.”

Do I? It’s hard to believe she enjoyed the pattern we developed. The break up—hot sex—make up can’t be her version of a good relationship.

“Five minutes,” I agree.

She grabs my arm and hauls me out another door to a part of the terrace that’s empty. The laughter and joy from the wedding floats out open doors and windows, but it’s windy out here, and Val’s hair gets caught by the wind. She grabs the bulk of her black hair in her fist and gives me the wounded puppy expression I’ve only seen a handful of times. That’s not going to win me over. I won’t let it.

“We can make this work,” Val says. “I’ll stop posting so much, and I won’t ask you to be part of stupid products and sponsorships. Only ones that genuinely fit you.” Her wounded expression morphs into a glare for a beat before she seems to remember she’s not supposed to be pissed at me right now.

The quick flash of emotion almost makes me chuckle. She’ll say anything to get me to agree to whatever plans she’s probably already made in the background. This is what happened last time. She agreed to cut back, and she did, but only until the next big offer came knocking.