could make a scene in the middle of Vangie’s wedding.
Everything had been picture perfect so far. She couldn’t ruin it by telling Sebastian’s father exactly what she thought of him. And even more clearly she couldn’t allow Sebastian to do what she suspected he itched to do. Not that she blamed him.
But punching out his father’s lights in the middle of his sister’s wedding was not the “normal” family behavior that would endear him to Vangie—or anyone else.
She unclasped her fingers and stroked the back of his neck. He didn’t speak, didn’t even move—except for the tick of a muscle in his jaw and a sort of vibrato tremor that ran through his limbs.
Neely ran her hand down his arm and smiled her best well-brought-up smile. “How do you do?” she said. “I’m Neely Robson. And you must be Mr. Savas.” She did not say, You must be Sebastian’s father.
“Call me Philip,” the older man said. He glanced at Sebastian. “I’m sure you don’t mind if I make the acquaintance of your lovely friend.”
“Sebastian and I are living together,” Neely said firmly. So maybe not in the traditional sense, but she wanted it clear they were not merely friends. As if anyone could think so given the way they’d been dancing.
“Of course,” Philip said genially. “My son doesn’t believe in marriage.”
“I wonder why,” Sebastian said through his teeth. They were the first words he’d spoken since Philip had cut in.
Philip only laughed. “Well, I promise not to propose to Miss Robson. How about that?” His tone was light and jokey but what was going on between them was no laughing matter.
“Don’t worry. I’d say no,” Neely said in an equally light tone. But just as she did so, the music ended, and she breathed a sigh of relief, thinking the whole problem might have been avoided.
But the quintet immediately went into the next number and Philip held out a hand to her. “This one will be mine, then, I think.”
Sebastian didn’t move. His fingers curled into a fist. Neely pressed her hand down on his arm. “One dance, Mr. Savas,” she said evenly. And she gave Sebastian’s forearm a squeeze.
He looked at her hand on his arm, then he raised his gaze to hers, his eyes as hard as green granite, his mouth flat and uncompromising.
Neely pressed her own lips together and raised her eyebrows, then suggested gently. “Why don’t you dance with Vangie? I’ll bet she’d like that.”
Sebastian’s jaw seemed locked. Only his eyes moved—from her to his father, then back again.
But finally he gave a curt nod and released her. “Enjoy yourself.”
He should have known.
It was just like Philip to breeze in at the last minute and act like he’d meant to be there all along.
“Got delayed in Japan,” was all he’d said.
“For four days?” Sebastian couldn’t mask his disbelief.
But of course it didn’t matter. Daddy was here now, and that was what mattered to Vangie. To his brothers and sisters. To all the stupid stepmothers. To everyone.
Except him.
And he frankly didn’t give a damn.
Now he stalked across the dance floor to the table where his sister sat with Garrett. “Dance with me.”
She had danced with her husband, her father (of course) and Garrett’s father. But then she had sat down, preferring to simply watch and share the day with her husband. But now she looked up, startled, then smiled up at Seb, delighted. “Of course. We didn’t get to before, did we?”
Before—when they’d been supposed to follow Vangie and Garret’s bridal waltz, Philip had danced with her instead.
“No,” Seb said shortly and held out a hand to her. Beaming, she took the floor with him.
Over her head he could see his father smiling and talking to Neely. He was going all out to charm her. Sebastian recognized all the moves, the flatteringly intent expression, the easy flirtatiousness.
Neely’s back was to him, so Seb wasn’t able to gauge her reaction. But his father had never failed to win a woman over yet.
He hadn’t expected Philip to cut in on them. He should have, he supposed. It was the sort of blatant, flagrant attention-seeking thing his father would do. Seb knew he should have seen it coming when Philip kept trying to catch his eye, as if they had something to say to each other.
He’d ignored it because he had nothing to say to Philip. And whatever his father might have to say, Sebastian had no desire to listen.
Now he didn’t have to talk to Sebastian. He had a more malleable captive audience. And clearly he was making the most of it. He was a better dancer than his son and he twirled Neely in his arms and spun her around and she laughed.
Sebastian stepped on Vangie’s foot. “Sorry.”
“It’s all right.” Vangie was in a mood to be pleased by everything. “It’s been a gorgeous wonderful day, hasn’t it?”
“Mm.” He could see Neely talking now. Philip’s brows lifted, he opened his mouth, then shut it again. Neely kept talking.
“I couldn’t believe it when Daddy showed up. Thank you for that.”
“Me? I didn’t do it.” God forbid.
“You tried,” Vangie said. “He told me he got your message. Told me you said he should be here.”
“He never responded.”
“Yes, he did,” Vangie said happily. “He came.”
And as always, just like bloody Caesar, Philip saw and then he conquered.
Seb’s jaw grew tight. He tensed as he watched Philip spin Neely round again, then start talking while Neely cocked her head and listened.
Was this song never going to end?
Then he heard Neely’s laughter. He turned his head to see her smiling up into his father’s eyes. He stopped dead.
Vangie tripped over his feet. “Sorry,” she said. “My fault.”
“No.” But he couldn’t do this anymore. “Let me take you back so you can sit down before I walk all over you.”
He took her arm and steered her back to Garrett before the music even ended. She sat down and looked up at him to smile again. “Thanks, Seb. For everything.”
“For stepping on your feet.” He smiled wryly as the music finally came to an end and Neely still stood with his father on the far side of the dance floor deep in conversation. Then she smiled, nodded and Philip leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.
Vangie
