Home > The Pretend Boyfriend (The Pretend Boyfriend #1)(13)

The Pretend Boyfriend (The Pretend Boyfriend #1)(13)
Author: Artemis Hunt

She had been ready to forgive him. Forgive and forget the entire middle grade. He was right anyway. Why penalize a kid who probably didn’t know what he was growing up to be? It wasn’t exactly as though he was an axe murderer, though he came close.

But then the adult Brian Morton turned caustic and sarcastic and her feelings towards him soured again. Feelings? Maybe that’s too emotional a word. She doesn’t know what she feels for and towards Brian Morton, other than she thinks he’s a conceited, arrogant prick who delights in tormenting her.

And yet she can’t deny her attraction towards him. Just look at him right now. In his dark suit and Hermes white silk scarf slung around his neck, he’s the epitome of gorgeous male virility. He’s striking enough to turn every head as he enters with aplomb.

Ah yes, maybe that’s the reason why everyone’s attention is riveted to them. It’s him, not her.

This was the exact reason why she wanted him on her arm. To make this splendid entrance. To show him off like a new Chanel tote. Look at me. I’m not totally hopeless. I have a glamorous and gorgeous and fantastically rich boyfriend.

Cassie and Caleb are already here. Their arms are linked as they happily stride towards Brian and her.

“There you are,” Cassie says pointedly. She is wearing a fabulous sequined little black dress, cut in the twenties’ fashion. “I’ve given up all hope that you would make it down here.”

“We’re just being fashionably late,” Brian says.

Cassie takes Sam’s arm and whispers, “So . . . were you torturing him up there?”

Sam flushes. “Not exactly.”

“Why? What happened?”

Sam does not reply, because the moment – the piece de resistance – that she has been planning for is about to occur. Lori flutters her way through the crowd – gaily, breezily, her shimmering gauzy pink tulle dress floating around her in a cloud. She’s a prettier, younger version of Sam, only that she has dyed her hair blonde.

“Sammie!” she screeches. “Oh, Sammie, you made it!”

Almost no thanks to your delayed afterthought of an invitation, Sam thinks as her sister bamboozles her way to fling herself into her arms. It is as though they are the most beloved of sisters. Siblings who share their every thought on What’s App every hour and who spend hours manicuring each other’s nails. Instead of the truth. Since Sam went away to college, she only saw Lori on family occasions and festivals. And during intervals, Lori never even texted her unless she wanted something.

Say, Sam, since you are away at college and all, you won’t mind if I borrowed your purple V-neck sweater, would you?

Lori is a powder puff of pinkness and screeches and perfume, and so Sam performs the dutiful but hasty display of sisterly affection by hugging her at arm’s length (body slightly averted, bosoms not touching).

Then Lori takes a couple of steps back. She appraises Brian.

“Wow, so you must be the new boyfriend.”

“I must be,” Brian says easily. He grabs Sam’s waist and pulls her towards him. “Aren’t I, sweetheart?”

Sam tries to beam. Brian’s body pressed against hers is very discomfiting. For all the wrong reasons. She can’t help flashing back to his naked body, pressed against hers at a different angle – his tumescent c**k prodding her belly in a most alarming and yet enticing way.

Before she can blush any further, she says, “Lori, this is Brian. Brian, Lori. You know Cassie. And this is Brian’s best friend, Caleb.”

Lori blows a few kisses. Then she turns her attention to Brian again.

“So how did you two meet?”

Sam is ready for this.

Brian says, “Well, we – ”

They are interrupted by two more warm bodies.

“Samantha?”

“Mom.”

The former Mrs. Fox sails into the midst of the gathered group, dazzling in a slinky blue number that could have been the pride at any Oscar night party. Sam cringes. It’s amazing how much Lori is starting to resemble their mother. Put thirty years on Lori, and she would be a spitting physical and psychological image.

Adele Ratner (once Adele Fox, albeit briefly) air kisses her older daughter. “You’re looking marvelous for once, darling.”

Brian’s mouth twitches at the subtle putdown. Sam boils inwardly. If he’s going to make fun of her after this, she’s going to emasculate his balls.

“And who is this very, very handsome young man?” Adele gazes admiringly at Brian, who is grinning from ear to ear.

Brian snakes out a hand. “I’m Brian Morton, Sam’s boyfriend. And I’m twenty-seven years old, which by all accounts from some present is positively geriatric.”

“Oh, you are not old by my standards,” Adele gushes flirtatiously, clasping Brian’s hand and holding it a tad too long. Sam and Cassie exchange warning glances. “Boyfriend? Well, she never told us. Not a whimper, not a text, and certainly not a Facebook relationship status update.”

“I know. Isn’t that the wildest? Sammie is usually the first to announce she’s in a relationship because of . . . you know . . . the fact that she almost never is in one,” Lori says.

Gosh, you are a bitch! Cassie mouths silently while making a funny cross-eyed face.

Sam glares at her. Shut up.

Still, she’s grateful that at least one person is on her side.

“Mom, you remember Cassie. And this is Caleb, Brian’s best friend.”

“Oh, are you two a couple? You look very cozy together.”

“Mom! They’ve just met, OK? And you shouldn’t be matchmaking anyone or making assumptions about them.”

“Oh, go on with you.” Adele turns her attention back to Brian. “So Brian, what do you do?”

Everyone around them is listening as well. You can cut the anticipation in the room with a knife.

“I run my own advertising agency.”

“Morton?” Lori’s bejeweled ears prick up. “Say, you wouldn’t happen to be related to the Mortons of Chicago, would you? The ones who run seemingly everything?”

“Sadly, we have the misfortune to share the same bloodlines. My uncle is the Chairman of Morton Enterprise Ltd. My father is his ass**le brother.”

Shocked gasps and titters all around. Sam hides her hands behind her back to stop them from wringing in despair.

Adele says, “You shouldn’t say that about your own father, Brian.”

“The truth hurts, but it’s necessary most of the time. In fact, I should say . . . all the time.” Brian flashes another brilliant smile.

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