All the typical douchebaggery you’d expect from someone with unlimited time, money, and zero consequences for bad decisions.
Frankly, it’s disappointing, though not all that surprising. Money breeds greed and power. Nothing good comes from that combination.
“This is it,” I murmur to distract myself from focusing on the negatives. “This is the day everything turns around. You’ve got this. You know you’ve got this. You’re strong and confident and talented and capable. You belong here. This is your time to shine.”
Painting on my best smile, I glance Nathan’s way and find him staring. Hard. And not in a, “Wow, I sure can’t wait to meet my interior designer!” kind of way. He looks like he’s trying not to swallow his tongue. Or like he’s gotten a whiff of a stench so revolting he wants to be anywhere but here. I smooth back the wisps of ebony hair that have fallen free from my ponytail and do a quick BO check. Fresh as a daisy despite the Florida heat.
I take a step Nathan’s way and a wave of disbelief hits me. Is this really my life? Mina Blake, hobnobbing with the rich, famous, and uber talented. My phone buzzes and I take a quick glance, smiling when I see a response to my text in the group chat.
Benjamin Bancroft
Ms. Blake is correct. This site is overflowing with potential.
Nathan, however, scoffs and shakes his head as he stares at his phone.
Okay…not exactly the exuberance I hoped for.
But confidence fixes everything, and I’ll fake it ‘til I fix it, despite the nerves his grumpiness set loose in my belly.
After one more deep breath, I smooth the front of my pants, shooting an exuberant, “Good morning, Mr. West!” over the roof of my car.
“Morning,” he grumbles, glaring at his phone, his thumbs tapping the screen in a sharp staccato.
Unfazed, I cross in front of the hood, hand extended. “I’m Mina Blake and I—”
“I know who you are,” Nathan barks, declines a call, then holds up a hand, looking contrite. “I’m sorry, I—”
His phone buzzes again and tension tightens his jaw.
“I have to take this,” he says, then strides away, shoulders hunched, chin dropped as he whisper-yells at the poor soul on the other line, probably an assistant who got his coffee wrong or the woman he was out with last night getting dumped. From what I hear, he doesn’t keep them around very long.
I scowl as Nathan walks away, then shake my own hand, murmuring, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Blake. You came highly recommended. Oh! Why thank you, Mr. West! It’s a pleasure to meet you as well. My best friend’s a huge fan! Fallon Mae? Maybe you’ve heard of her…”
Nathan glances over his shoulder, and I drop my hands to my side before he can see, then hurry after the man with the power to make or break my future clenched between his teeth. When I catch up, his sunglasses are dangling from the neck of his shirt and he’s cordially shaking hands with Benjamin, his phone tucked into his back pocket.
“Benjamin Bancroft. It’s great to finally meet you in person.” Ben’s gaze jukes to me, and damn. That smile. How does he do it? “As I said in the group chat,” he continues, “this site is brimming with potential. I see great things here.”
“The pleasure is mine, Mr. Bancroft,” Nathan replies, and would you look at that? He sounds downright cordial. “The body of your work speaks for itself. I can’t wait to hear what you and Ms. Blake have in mind for my new home.”
His voice reminds me of the ocean, soft and soothing, yet churning with the constant threat of turbulence, and hinting at unexplored depths.
I stop beside them, hand extended, smile in place, determined to make a good impression. “Mina Blake,” I say again. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. West. And yeah, this site is amazing.”
His eyes should be warm, like foliage in springtime or reeds in the breeze. Instead, they’re sharp and cutting like overgrown thorns. He has the gall to check his phone before he extends a hand like the thought of touching me repulses him.
“Miss Blake.”
Okay. Nice to Benjamin. Rude to me. Gotcha. I glance down at my high-waisted slacks and white blouse with the cute cap sleeves and Victorian style buttons. Compared to the jeans and T-shirts spackled on my companions, I’m overdressed for the occasion. Maybe he’s turned off by formality?
You know what? It doesn’t matter.
I’m turned off by people who can’t introduce themselves with a modicum of decency.
“I am so excited to work with someone as talented as Mr. Bancroft. Especially on a project like this. This is basically a dream come true for me.”
Nathan’s thorny eyes sweep over me with…is that disdain? “You mean a project with an unlimited budget.”
Fallon’s right. Nathan West has officially entered his villain era. I drop the pretense and speak to him on a level he’ll understand.
“An unlimited budget will let us flex our creative muscles to your heart’s content. A man like you deserves to get what he wants.”
By that, I mean everyone deserves a life of happiness and ease, but that’s not the way he’ll take it. These rich and famous types think they deserve a bigger slice of the pie. Why? Because they’re better than the little guys, the working class, the people who keep the world running, of course!
Nathan’s face hardens. The muscle in his jaw pulses and his eyes flash like the embers of a fire raging back to life. He’s unreadable and unpredictable— terse heat wrapped in a scornful sneer.
A sneer?
Who sneers at a perfectly pleasant woman they just met?
Nathan freaking West, that’s who. The man I hoped would be a dream come true but has his heart set on being my worst nightmare.
“Why don’t you walk us around the site and tell us about the house as you envision it?” Benjamin says, situating himself between me and Nathan like some kind of human shield. I could just about hug him for that kindness.
Nathan gives Benjamin his full attention, wandering the site and rattling off his wish list in a voice so quiet, I can barely hear. Almost like he’s leaving me out on purpose. Like he took one look at my bargain bin clothes and car and decided I wasn’t worth his time. Another wave of disappointment sweeps over me. I’d hoped Fallon was wrong about him, but Nathan West is just another pretty face and bloated bank account.
Flustered, I scan the area—a secluded cove with a wide stretch of private beach, hidden from the road by a mixture of oak trees and slash pines that open to a view so magnificent it’s like it was painted to order. Nathan’s future house appears before my eyes, building itself from the foundation to the rafters, with large windows and sweeping rooms that are sophisticated, but lack pretension. It’s not too small, not too big. There’s a giant library filled with more books than a person could read in one lifetime. Fiction. Non-fiction. Rare first editions sitting beside pop culture new releases. There’s a chef’s kitchen and a large deck overlooking the ocean, a perfect place to curl up and watch the sunset.
With a sad smile, I realize I just built my mother’s dream house. The one I hope to surprise her with some day after…well…after.
