Faking Love

Chapter Three: take it or leaf it

Daisy had always been partial to jazz.

There was something about the steadiness of the tempo that pandered to the dancer inside of her at the same time it challenged her to break the turn sequence, to defy the mould. That was the kind of ballerina she'd been; she obeyed the rules, but she'd always craved the chance to do something new. Something incredible.

As Hunt ushered her into the cocktail mixer, his hand pressed far too casually against the small of her back, the saxophone sounded a lot like nails down a chalkboard, the bass drum a death march signalling war. Unfortunately for Hunt, he was right in the firing line.

He seemed unaware. Or at least unbothered.

He chatted animatedly with Laia and Belle as Daisy's friends led them through a sleek, cavernous function room overrun with conifers. The dark walls were bathed in silver light, except for one—which was a living, breathing aquarium that folded into the roof. Round tables and chairs dotted the stone floor, joined by an army of ferns and trickling water features. It was like the hotel was worried they'd forget they were in the middle of a rainforest.

They could have been in a war zone for the way Daisy's heart was pounding.

She ducked out of Hunt's grip and yanked on his arm, hard enough that anyone else's socket would have popped.

Damn him and his broad ass shoulders. How did real people even have bodies like that?

"What the hell are you doing?" she hissed when they broke pace with her friends.

Hunt's answering grin was criminally cool. He simply dusted off his black shirt, as though an insect had landed on his sleeve. The blue light from the aquarium rippled over his face, making it look like they really were in some underwater cavern.

"Is that your way of saying thank you?" he asked.

"Thank you?"

"You're welcome," Hunt crooned, striding forward.

Before she could snap something back, Laia waved them over to a bar table where Ruby and Honey were waiting—and making zero effort to mask their curiosity.

Daisy trailed Hunt like a lost puppy. Because she felt like one.

Everything happened too quickly.

Hunt greeted her friends in turn, apologising for 'holding them up for so long'. Daisy gritted her teeth instinctually. Her friends were her friends, and she loved them dearly, but they were not the most forgiving when it came to others neglecting their social graces. Belle, especially, had a thing about people being on time.

But every single one of them was smiling at Hunt. They laughed at a joke he told. Ruby—brash, outspoken, gagged-at-the-thought-of-touching-a-man Ruby—ran her eyes over his black-on-black outfit, flipped her pastel-streaked hair out from beneath her leather jacket, and purred, "You are delicious."

Belle rested her head on her girlfriend's shoulder, humming her agreement behind a glass of wine.

From where she stood behind him, Daisy saw Hunt's shoulders doing that thing—tensing in a way that meant he was holding back a laugh. Nervous habit, her ass. He was damned pleased with himself.

Matthew picked that moment to pop up behind his wife, tossing a disapproving glare at Ruby in reply to her comment.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you," the reverend said, donning what Daisy and Laia had termed his Church voice; plummy and considered, with just a hint of condescension. "I'm Matthew."