Fallon stands and runs her hands into her hair. “If he isn’t like that, then why did I say from the very beginning that you needed a protection plan in place? That Nathan West wouldn’t have your best interest at heart? Why did I want to write an article to use as leverage in case we ended up in a situation just like this one?”
“I didn’t agree with you then, and I don’t agree with you now. Nathan’s not that guy. In fact, you need to stop calling him a villain in your articles. Actually, you need to stop with your whole ‘make him realize how much he’s changed’ experiment. I get that you think you’re helping him, but it’s not working the way you want it to, and half the stuff you publish isn’t true in the first place.”
No matter how much Fallon wants it to be. As long as Nathan’s a womanizing villain, she has something to write about. The moment that’s not true, she’s the villain, profiting off lies. I almost say as much, but I’m not sure she’s thought that deeply about it and she sure isn’t prepared to think about it now.
“You need to talk to him.” Fallon drops back onto my bed, her eyes pleading with me to pay attention while she completely disregards my point. “And you need to do it with your bullshit detector on, so you catch any shady shit he’s throwing your way. Or hell, maybe I need to talk to him as an objective third party.”
“For one, you’re not objective and for two, he doesn’t know we’re friends.” I hang my head, feeling like an asshole. I keep meaning to tell him, but there’s enough going on between us without trying to broach the ‘My Best Friend Is Your Archenemy’ conversation.
Fallon’s entire body recoils as she objects to my objections. “And that matters, why?”
“Because your articles piss him off and I should have told him I know you a long time ago but haven’t found a good time yet. And, while I’m on the topic, please, please hear me and stop calling him a villain.”
If I’m not gonna be brave enough to tell him I’m friends with the blogger he calls a vulture, the least I can do is make sure she stops publishing lies.
“I’m glad I’m pissing him off! That’s the whole point!” Fallon shakes her head. “And the fact that you don’t feel like you can tell him about me, or your overfilled schedule, or your need for a second job, or ask a simple question about finances, that should tell you something. You’re in over your head. You’re too kind. Too genuine. You believe everyone operates like you and that just isn’t true.”
“You don’t know Nathan the way I do. You don’t know what happened or what he’s actually doing. He’s not a bad guy.”
“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.”
