Lucky This Isn't Real: MacBride Brothers Series St. Patrick's Day Fake Fiance Romance by Jamie Knight (digital e reader .TXT) 📕

I still loathed most of the rich people I’d dealt with, but that was more for their personality than their lifestyle. Someone could have a solid gold toilet as long as they weren’t a jerk about it or, more specifically, thought it gave them a license to be a jerk. Material wealth was not an excuse for poverty of personality.

“We are here, sir.”

I wondered if I should give the driver a tip, like a taxicab. It really was a mystery how such things were supposed to work. He didn’t put out his hand or anything, so I figured it wasn’t expected. The last thing I needed was to commit a faux pas.

“Name?” asked the doorman, with all possible neutrality.

“Sean McBride to see Matilda Matthews.”

He nodded, stepped out of the way, and opened the door for me. “Welcome, sir.”

“Thank you,” I said with a nod.

I’d agreed to come mostly because I didn’t know how to decline Matilda’s kind offer, but I was also curious to learn more about why Darcy’s dad was so determined to marry Darcy off to Harry Ashton of all people. I found it difficult to fathom how someone could have such little concern for their own child’s happiness. Even I could tell there was no way she could be happy with him and not just because I was convinced she was supposed to be with me and I with her. Yet, daddy dearest seemed determined that she obey him. The most plausible explanation was that it had more to do with his ego and wanting everything to go his own way, like the king he thought he was. Were it not considered rude, I would have put the bastard in a headlock the minute I had the chance at the garden party. I certainly was tempted but let my calmer temperament rule. Knowing I would probably never see Darcy again if I gave in to my baser instincts.

There was a gold-plated plaque next to the elevator that listed who lived on each floor. There must have been hundreds of names, piling up into a summit of information reaching near the ceiling. The Matthews apartment was at the top. Matthews, G. the prick had put the listing in his name. As if his wife and daughter didn’t even exist, at least not as full people.

Unclutching my fist, I pushed the up button and waited for the elevator to descend from the heady heights.

I’d never gotten vertigo from an elevator, but the glass wall wasn’t helping. I stood facing the door, willing myself not to turn around.

My first instinct upon crossing the Matthews’ three-floor penthouse threshold was to take off my shoes.

“I’m in here, Sean,” Matilda called from somewhere inside the massive main floor.

Leaving my shoes by the door, I went to find her. It would still be a while before I could call her Matilda in my head, let alone to her face. Just as long as she didn’t want me to call her ‘mom,’ things should be fine.

Piles of wedding magazines stood like ancient obelisks on the coffee table.

“Take a seat,” Matilda said, indicating a chair to her right.

I sat down gingerly. Matilda Matthews possessed the sort of energy that made you want to obey her.

“Now we have a lot to go through. I’ve broken everything up into categories. Tuxes, cakes, etc.”

“Didn’t we already choose a cake?”

“That was Darcy’s choice. I need to make sure you agree and split the difference.”

“Two cakes?”

“If needed, but it probably won’t be, you two really do seem to be of one mind about things. It is reassuring, to be honest. I was wondering if it might be a mistake. No, not a mistake, too quick. You haven’t known each other very long, have you?”

“No,” I hedged. Things were moving at lightning speed, and I didn’t know how I would put a stop to it before it got any more out of hand.

“Still, I would never admit this to Garrison, but I can see it.”

“See what?”

“Your connection. You love her, and I know she loves you. I can see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice. There is no way she could be happy with Harry. Not when she is supposed to be with you. Most will think it’s silly, but I believe in true love and soulmates.”

“It’s not silly at all,” I assured.

Even as I said it, I wondered how she could go along with Garrison’s marriage plans for Darcy. Granted, they hadn’t met me yet but shouldn’t Matilda have advocated more for Darcy’s rights, particularly as a believer in true love, which clearly wasn’t there with Harry?

“I really should have spoken up from the beginning,” Matilda said, as though reading my mind. “He might have even listened. If not, I could have helped Darcy get away—oh, listen to me, getting all melodramatic. None of that matters now anyway. She’s found you. The man she was supposed to be with all along.”

“Exactly,” I said. “Though I am a bit confused as to why Darcy would get engaged to Harry when she doesn’t even seem to like him.”

“Oh, that was more in their father’s heads. I think Harry was up for it. What man his age wouldn’t be? It was the fathers who were the driving force. Just two silly old men too old-fashioned to make a simple business deal without there being a wedding to secure things.”

“It does seem a bit, well, Elizabethan, Victorian at the most.”

“I know, dear. I never should have let it get as far as it did. I actually know what it’s like. I grew up poor. I was working as a secretary before I met Garrison. He was Henry Higgins to my Eliza Doolittle. He wanted to keep Darcy in a dream world. One of his own making. I was