The Wedding Wrecker Read Online Penelope Bloom

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Chick Lit, Contemporary Tags Authors: Penelope Bloom Advertisement1

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Both older men were now watching us with renewed interest.

Oh, nothing to see here, old rich guys. The fact that my own sister didn’t know about this doesn’t make our relationship suspicious at all.

“Uh, yeah,” I said, sitting up and trying to shrug James’ arm off me with a subtle gesture. He either didn’t take the hint or didn’t care. He just gave me a little squeeze and smiled.

"So?" Lily asked, practically bouncing in her seat as Marcus and a few other members of his family arrived. I spotted Aunt Martha as well.

Hope you’re enjoying the views from my former room, Aunt Martha…

My sister had always been a romantic, but her excitement about my supposed relationship was bordering on manic. “Well?” Lily asked, not even turning to look at Marcus as he sat between her and my mom.

My mom was watching the two of us with a very keen expression—the kind that said she knew exactly who James was and was also wondering what in the holy hell was going on. Except my mom’s curiosity had even more ammunition than my sister’s. After all, she’d probably hired this guy to wreck Lily’s wedding. So what the hell was I doing with his arm around me?

Nearly a dozen pairs of eyes were all on us now, making me feel like I might just burn up in a poof of embarrassment, never to be seen again. Actually, I thought I’d take that fate if somebody offered it to me right in that moment. Better than sitting here and trying to explain this.

"Well," I started, having no idea where I was going with that sentence.

"I ran into her at a coffee shop," James cut in smoothly. "Literally ran into her. Spilled her drink all over both of us."

I dug my nails into his thigh. He didn't even flinch.

"She was furious," he continued, smiling down at me with a warmth that felt disturbingly real. "But I convinced her to let me buy her a replacement. And then dinner. And then⁠—"

"And then he wouldn't leave me alone," I finished, keeping my voice sweet while squeezing his leg harder.

"If he does leave you alone, let me know," Dick cut in from across the room. "I’d be happy to show you around the resort. Give you the… insider perspective."

I hadn’t noticed Dick, but the sound of his voice and creepy eyebrow wiggles was already making me feel nauseous.

I felt James tense beside me. "You’ll have to keep dreaming," he said. I thought the words were meant to be light and dismissive, but I didn’t miss the edge in his tone. It seemed to say one more word and I’ll punch you in the face, asshole.

Fake or not, I had to admit I appreciated having James to shut Dick down for me. At least I wouldn’t need to worry about unwanted advances while this farce played out.

Lily sighed dreamily. "You two are so cute together. Aren't they cute?" She turned to Marcus, who was focused on his phone. "Babe?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. Adorable."

I caught my mother still watching us from across the room, her expression unreadable. When our eyes met, she quickly looked away.

"Anyone want another drink?" James asked, standing. His absence left me feeling oddly cold. "Emma?"

"Please," I said, hoping for something strong enough to make me forget I had to share a bed with him later.

As he headed to the bar and the rest of the guests got distracted with a conversation about business, Lily leaned in close. "Okay, spill. How is he in bed? Because those hands look like they know what they're doing."

"Lily!" I hissed, grateful James was out of earshot. Though my traitorous mind immediately flashed to exactly how good those hands were.

"What? I'm engaged, not dead. I can root for my big sister to get some satisfaction, can’t I?”

“Use your imagination,” I said.

“Already there,” Lily said with a smirk.

I couldn’t help smiling as I whacked her arm. “Behave,” I laughed softly.

James returned with our drinks just as Richard started telling some story about his college days. I was only half listening, too aware of James settling back beside me, his thigh pressed against mine.

"Cold?" he whispered when I shivered.

"I'm fine."

He pulled me closer anyway, his scent and presence making my head spin. Or maybe that was the alcohol.

The night stretched on, a blur of fake smiles and careful touches and stories we made up about our relationship. James was surprisingly good at weaving truth with fiction—like how he claimed our first kiss was in a wine cellar.

Every time his stories skipped across the truth, I felt the confusing blur of our lie mingling with truth. By the end of the night, I had to keep pinching myself to remember this was fake. We were just playing the part—selling the lie.

Finally, people started drifting off to bed. My mother left without saying goodbye, but I caught her watching us again as she went.


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