“Ask your mom what happens when good people make excuses for bad people.”
My jaw drops and I stare. Who is she to think she knows anything about my parents, let alone compare Nathan to my father? I had the grace to stop myself from hitting her where it hurts. She can’t do the same for me?
“That’s a low blow, Fallon.”
“If that’s what I have to do to make you hear me…”
I pull open a drawer and retrieve my brush. “I need to look gala ready in a couple hours and you swore you’d help. This isn’t helping.”
“Right. Silly me, trying to protect you.” Fallon crosses her arms over her chest. “You know I only brought this up because I love you and don’t want to see you hurt.”
“I know.”
There’s so much more I want to say, excuses to make, questions to ask. I know what I see when I meet Nathan’s eyes, and it isn’t a power-hungry asshole using me for personal gain. He’s genuine. I know it.
But I won’t convince Fallon of that. Not tonight. And I’ll be fidgety enough this evening without being in a fight with the only real support system I have.
I hold my brush out like a peace offering. “Will you please help me with my hair?”
Relief softens her posture. “Will you please think about what I’ve said tonight?”
I press my lips together and lift the brush again. “As long as you promise to think about what I’ve said.”
The next several hours pass quietly, the two of us lost in thought as I transform from boring and basic Mina Blake into a woman I barely recognize. A woman wearing a spectacular dress, with Harlow West’s diamonds dripping from her ears and sparkling at her wrist. They dazzle me when they catch the light.
The silk is so thin and fits so perfectly to my body, that even a thong showed through, transforming the classic lines of the dress into something slutty. After trying too many undergarments to count and all of them ruining the effect, I finally opt to go commando, then slide on a pair of strappy heels, and stand in front of the mirror.
Dear God. Pinch me because I must be dreaming. Yours ever so truly, Mina Blake.
“Are you sure it’s not too…” I ask, twisting to look at my butt.
“Oh it’s ‘too’ all right.” Fallon laughs gently. “Those stuffy charity people won’t know what hit them.”
TWENTY-FIVE
Mina
Fallon leaves at quarter after two and Nathan arrives an hour later. The gala starts early, with the auction happening first thing, leaving the rest of the night free for the winners to spend with their dates for the evening. With a deep breath, I pull open my door and there he is. The man I can’t stop thinking about. The man Fallon thinks is so evil he would lie about his feelings to get out of paying for a fake relationship. The man she compared to my father.
Low blow followed by lowest blow.
Nathan’s hair is effortlessly swept back to frame his chiseled cheeks and jaw. His eyes are bright, and the steep angle of the setting sun casts half his face in shadow. Fallon would call it symbolic but that’s the writer in her, ascribing meaning to shitty lighting. A tuxedo hugs broad shoulders and a slim waist I want to wrap my legs around. The subtle glint of silver from his cufflinks catches the light and I realize I’m silently staring as seconds tick into minutes.
“Hi.” I lift a hand, then use it to steady myself on the doorframe. I’m suddenly unbalanced. Everything I thought was real and true in the world has come undone.
How can The Prince of Darkness look at me like I’m a goddess?
How can Fallon think she knows him when she’s never even spoken to him?
How can I be this awkward with him when I know how his tongue feels pressed against me? The way his hair feels fisted in my fingers? The way I wanted to scream his name and ride his face and now we’re just standing here and—
“Hi.” Nathan’s smile is inscrutable as always. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.” I grab my clutch off the table near the door then step outside to lock up, fully aware of Nathan standing behind me, his body so close to mine. This thin line of expectation…
Of possibility…
“I thought I imagined the way you look in that dress,” he says, drawing his fingers across my bare shoulder. “That I’d built it into something magnificent to excuse the way I behaved in the dressing room.”
I slowly turn to face him, my breath racing, and press myself against the door to give us more space. “And?”
“I didn’t imagine it. You are stunning, Mina Blake. Any man would be lucky to have you on his arm. I’m honored that tonight, it’s me.”
Nathan presses a hand to my lower back and I glance up at him, waiting for the punchline. The hint of evil to vindicate Fallon’s concerns.
All I see is the boyish charm I’ve come to know and love.
He looks completely genuine.
The car waiting in the parking lot isn’t Nathan’s. This one is sleek and black and belongs in movies, not parked outside my apartment. Ms. Markowitz steps outside to stare, as do the Dietzes, and the frat boys a few doors down, all of them whispering excitedly as the driver emerges to open a door for me. This isn’t typical for Lime Tree Bay Apartments. If I wasn’t the one climbing into the car, I’d be staring and whispering too. Nathan tosses me a knowing grin as he lowers himself into the seat beside me.
“I probably should have warned you about the car and driver.” The crook to his smile says he doesn’t mean it.
“Why didn’t you?”
“I wanted to see the look on your face.”
If Fallon could see this version of Nathan, she’d take back everything she said. His eyes shimmer like dew on blades of grass, bright and warm as they hold mine. Gone are the thorns and frozen barbed wire.
“Was it worth it?” I ask.
“Completely,” he responds, threading his fingers with mine as the driver pulls out of the lot.
The car slows to a stop in front of The Hutton Hotel, which, according to Fallon, started as a sprawling colonial style house on the beach with more rooms than family members when Nathan’s mom was a little girl. The extra space disquieted Nathan’s grandmother—Rebecca Hutton—a woman with a heart big enough to love the whole world and the brains to know a business opportunity when she saw one. It didn’t take long for the extra rooms to become a bed and breakfast, and for the bed and breakfast to become a full-blown resort. Last year, the family opened a second hotel in Bliss, South Carolina with Angela and Garrett spearheading the project. Fallon says it’s as charming as the one in front of me and just as successful.
Behind the old house, the ocean stretches out until it kisses the horizon. Several tents have been set up on the beach, with temporary walkways and flooring to accommodate fancy footwear. A string quartet plays quietly, the music dancing in and out of the ocean waves crashing rhythmically against the sand. After the auction, a live band will take their place to allow for dancing. There’s an open bar where servers load trays of appetizers and champagne to float fluidly through the crowd once the guests arrive. There are tiki torches and strings of lights and the view is so striking it doesn’t look real. How does someone like me end up in a place like this, wearing what I’m wearing, on the arm of a man who grew up thinking any of this is normal?
It's elegant and excessive and I don’t want to think about what it costs. Events like this are what placed a giant chip on my shoulder the first day I met Nathan. Growing up poor, I resented those who had money to burn. But this entire evening is dedicated to raising money for a charity that helps little kids dealt a bad hand like me.
Maybe I was wrong to judge. To assume. To lump people into groups and categories without taking the human factor into account. None of us fit neatly into boxes.
Nathan and I make our way toward the bar and are instantly enveloped in a herd of Huttons. A man I don’t recognize hangs back, arms crossed, glaring at me like I’m an unwelcome addition to the group. He’s as tall as any of the men in Nathan’s family but lacks the feeling of warmth I’ve come to expect from the Mason’s and Angela’s…hell even Nathan himself. If ever there was a Prince of Darkness, it’s this guy.
“I thought I said you’d be better not to come at all than to show up with a dazzling and spectacular woman on your arm,” an older woman says to Nathan. She sounds stern but looks friendly and is downright stunning. Her blonde hair is swept up and back, with tendrils framing her face. She’s wearing black pants with wide legs, a fitted blazer, and sky-high heels.
Having those two words aimed at me sends my heartrate into overdrive. I grip Nathan’s arm, smiling weakly as I decide if I’m supposed to respond.
