My Fair Billionaire(40)
Author: Elizabeth Bevarly

She turned back to the group, willing Peyton to meet her gaze. When he did, she told him, “It isn’t true, what Catherine said, Peyton. I knew you were better than all of us at Emerson. You still are. I wouldn’t have made love with you in high school if I hadn’t known that. And I wouldn’t have…I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you now if I hadn’t known on some level, always, that you were the best there was. That you are the best there is.”

Catherine had been sipping her champagne when Ava said the part about making love with him, and she must have choked on a gasp she wasn’t able to avoid. Because that was when Cristal went spewing all over Chelsea and Deedee, not to mention down the front of Catherine’s Givenchy.

“You slept with him in high school?” she sputtered. “Him?”

That final word dripped with so much contempt and so much revulsion, there was no way to mistake Catherine’s meaning. That Ava had sunk to the basest, scummiest level of humanity there was by consorting with someone of Peyton’s filthy lower class. That even today, in spite of his many admirable accomplishments, he would never be fit for “polite” society like theirs.

Peyton, of course, noticed it, too. As did Catherine, finally. Probably because of the scathing look he shot her.

Immediately, she tried to mask her blunder. “I mean…I’m just so surprised to discover the two of you had a…ah, liaison…in high school. You were both so different from each other.”

“It surprised me, too,” Ava said, still looking at Peyton. Still unable to tell how he was reacting to what he’d just heard. “That he would lower his standards so much to get involved with a member of our crowd. It’s no wonder he didn’t want anyone to know about it.”

Finally, he reacted. But not with confusion, anger or smugness. Judging by his reaction, he was first startled, then incredulous, then…something that kind of looked like happiness? The flip-flopping in Ava’s belly turned into flutters of hopeful little butterflies.

“I didn’t want anyone to know?” he said. “But you were the one who—”

He halted, looking at the others, who all appeared to be more than a little interested in what he might say next. Gentleman that he was, he closed his mouth and said nothing more about that night in front of them. Nothing else Ava might say was any of their business, either. She’d said what she needed to say for now. What Peyton chose to do with everything he’d learned tonight was up to him—whether he still wanted high society’s stamp of approval or whether he wanted anything more to do with her.

If he valued his professional success and the wealth and social standing that came with it more than anything, he would be as courteous as Ava had taught him to be and pretend the last several minutes had never happened. He would watch her leave and continue chatting with his new best friends, even knowing how they truly felt about him. He would collect invitations to more events like this and exchange contact info with like-minded wealthy types. He would field introductions to more members of their tribe, doubtless meeting enough single women that Caroline the matchmaker would no longer be necessary.

In spite of what Catherine had said, and in spite of the way they all felt about him deep down, he was one of them now—provided he didn’t screw up. A full-fledged member of the society he’d so eagerly wanted to join. Even if he was nouveau riche instead of moldy old-moneyed, because of his colossal wealth, his membership in this club would never be revoked—provided he didn’t screw up. He had his pick of their women and could plant one at his side whenever he wanted, then produce a passel of beautiful, wealthy children to populate schools like Emerson. Except that Peyton’s children would enjoy all the benefits he’d been denied in such a place—provided he didn’t screw up. Even if Peyton’s past was soiled, his present—and future—would be picture-perfect. He was Peyton Moss, gentleman tycoon. No one would ever openly criticize him or treat him like a guttersnipe again.

Provided he didn’t screw up.

“If you’ll all excuse me,” Ava said to the group, “I’ll be going. I’ve been asked to leave.”

She had turned and completed two steps when Peyton’s voice stopped her.

“The hell you will,” he said. Loudly. “You’re my—” the profanity he chose for emphasis here really wasn’t fit for print “—guest. You’re not going anywhere, dammit.”

She turned back around and automatically started to call him on his language, then stopped when she saw him smile. Because it was the kind of smile she’d seen from him only twice before. That night at her parents’ house sixteen years ago, and last night, in her apartment. A disarming smile that not only rendered Ava defenseless, but stripped him of his armaments, too. A smile that said he didn’t give a damn about anything or anybody, as long as he had one moment with her. Only this time, maybe it would last more than a moment.

He started to wrestle his black tie free of its collar, then stopped a passing waiter and asked him what the hell a guy had to do to get a—again with the profane adjective—bottle of beer at this—profane adjective—party. When the waiter assured him he’d be right back with one, Peyton turned not to Ava, but to Catherine.

“You’re full of crap, Catherine.” Except he chose a different word than crap. “I know no one at Emerson, including you, ever thought I would amount to anything. But, hell, I never thought any of you—” now he looked at Ava “—well, except for one of you—would amount to anything, either. It’s not my fault I’m the one who turned out to be right. And furthermore…”

At that point, Peyton told them they could all go do something to themselves that no gentleman would ever tell anyone to do. Ava’s heart swelled with love.

Catherine sputtered again, but this time managed not to spit on anyone. However, neither Peyton nor Ava stayed around long enough to hear what she had to say. Catherine was a big nobody, after all. Who cared what she had to say?

As they headed for the exit, they passed the server returning with Peyton’s longneck bottle of beer, and in one fluid gesture, he snagged both it and a slender flute of champagne for Ava. But when they reached the hotel lobby, they slowed, neither seeming to know what to do next. Ava’s heart was racing, both with exhilaration from having stood up to Catherine’s bullying and exuberance at having told Peyton how she felt about him. Until she remembered that he hadn’t said anything about his feelings for her. Then her heart raced with something else entirely.