Happily Ever After Romances reserves all rights granted by the author. No part of this book may be copied or shared without written permission from the publisher. All characters are creations of the author, and resemblances to any real person are coincidental.
Copyright 2011, Lilly LaRue
Chapter One
“It’s quite a circus, isn’t it?” Molly murmured as she joined Aronne on the second floor, where he leaned against the rail, studying the contents of his glass with brooding dark eyes.
He looked up, briefly startled by her presence, before sweeping his gaze over the assemblage on the lower level. “Indeed.” A lock of dark hair fell onto his forehead, and he raked it back impatiently.
“It was exactly what Margot wanted for her engagement party.” She hadn’t meant her tone to sound so bitter.
Aronne arched a brow. “That bothers you?”
She shrugged. “Not really. I’m used to it.” What Margot wanted, Margot got.
His eyes narrowed, and she shivered under his scrutiny. “Who are you?”
“Molly. We’ve met a couple of times the past year.” Not that she expected him to remember Margot’s little sister. At twenty-four, Aronne didn’t live at home with the Giannis family, and he’d seldom been part of the meetings between the Powers and Giannis families. Both times he had, there had been a gorgeous woman on his arm. Once, a Brazilian girl almost as tall as his six-two, and the other time, a statuesque redhead.
A rueful look at herself reminded her she wasn’t in the league of those women. Nowhere near. At five-three, thanks to the three-inch heels she wore, no one would ever call her tall or willowy, or compare her to an Amazon. She had soft curves she preferred to the stick-thin figure of her sister and Margot’s friends, but knew he must prefer the supermodel look, judging from his choice of companions.
It was a surprise to see him alone at the party. Of course, she was alone too, to no one’s surprise, but wasn’t foolish enough to think he would suddenly notice Margot’s seventeen-year-old sister. Eighteen in three weeks , she thought with a twitch of her lips, as if it would make a difference.
Aronne cocked his head, his gaze touching the top of her head and moving to her feet. Was she imagining the gleam of interest? No doubt it was her imagination run amok. “You’re Margot’s sister, right?” At her nod, he said, “You look a lot like her.”
Molly shrugged, not sure she considered that a compliment. It was true they both had the same caramel-brown shade of hair and hazel eyes, perhaps with a similar bone structure, since both girls resembled their mother, but the likeness ended there. Margot was tall and slender, with an innate grace and keen fashion sense. She knew how to accentuate her beauty with several tricks, including artificially added golden highlights and long acrylic nails, which remained a mystery to Molly. There was a lot to envy about Margot, and she did, though she hated it. She didn’t want to be her older sister. She just wanted to get some of the same attention and consideration her sibling received.
Steering the conversation from Margot, she asked, “What are you doing up here?” When he swirled his glass, she looked down where his hand curved around the cut crystal, noticing it was empty, save for some melting ice.
“I’m contemplating if it’s worth braving the horde for another whiskey.”
Molly bit her lip, hesitating for a second. Telling herself he still wouldn’t notice her, even if they were the last two people alive, she said, “There’s no need. I know where Dad keeps the key to his liquor cabinet in his study.”
After a second, Aronne smiled. “I like the way you think. Lead the way, Molly.”
Warmth suffused her at the sound of her name on his lips. What would it sound like if he said it after they had shared a passionate kiss? Would it be
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