My eyes flicker evasively; I can't help it. What am I supposed to say to that? Although I decided not to use Marcus to get revenge on Charles, I still have no intentions of falling in love with him. I can't afford that kind of entanglement.For one thing, there are dozens of very rich, very pretty young women here who are currently staring at me with daggers in their eyes as I dance with Marcus. They're all from other prominent werewolf families, politician families, business families – you get the idea.Their families have money. They were raised to live in this kind of world, the world of Plaza weddings and real crystal chandeliers and sleekly expensive car collections in the second garage.The world of dinner menus with no prices listed, where the food was made according to the chef's discretion and the wine only comes by the bottle.The world of yachts and jets, second and third vacation homes. The world of Swiss bank accounts and handbag collections designed by people whose names
Charles still looks sick, but it's in a grim, determined sort of way. He knocks back the rest of his whisky and signals for another before standing up and facing me head on."All right," he says, his voice heavy and a little slurred from all the drinks he's probably had today. "You're right, we do need to do this. Let's go somewhere private, though. We can't talk here, right in front of the dance floor."He grabs the fresh whisky the bartender places in front of him and gestures for me to follow him out of the room. I do, peeking behind me as I go to see if Marcus has noticed where I've gone. He's surrounded by a knot of society ladies and is chatting avidly with them, without a spare glance for me.Satisfied, I hurry to follow Charles out of the ballroom. He's paused in the doorway, looking impatient."Hurry up," he grumbles when I get close to him. "And be careful. The last thing we need is anyone noticing that I'm sneaking out with you. I've had enough rumors to combat after that h
I don’t have much time to think about the bomb that Charles has just dropped on me. He wipes away the tears and focuses on my face with an intensity that makes me feel uneasy.“But what about you, Nicole?” he asks, sounding less sniffly than suspicious. “Why are you here? How are you here? Entrance was strictly controlled, and I know you weren’t on the guest list. You seemed awfully cozy with Marcus, though.”His words hang in the air, heavy and accusatory. I’m not really sure how to answer him, at least not in any way that won’t arouse further suspicion.I accidentally stumbled on the opportunity to wrangle an invitation from the hot werewolf Alpha’s son after a weird chance encounter at the soup kitchen, which was good luck for me because I’ve been trying to figure out a way to gatecrash your wedding to ruin your reputation probably isn’t going to go down well.I’ll have to make something up, something that will sound believable but relatively innocent. Something that won’t overcomm
I’m uncertain about whether to approach him. But then I remember the recording in my bag. I duck into a nearby alcove and turn it off, then hit replay. Listening, I can tell that it’s definitely picked up my conversation with Charles.I have proof.That settles it for me: I need to find a way to bury my past, once and for all. But before I can even think long enough to move toward approaching Kent, I hear hushed voices and rushed footsteps coming down the hallway.Oh, my god. It’s Charles again, and he’s practically dragging my father by the arm in the direction of the private little room where he and I had just had our talk. Darlene and Becki follow behind them, glancing around as if they’re worried about being followed.Once they’ve passed me, I peer around the corner of my alcove and look at Kent. He’s watching me. I raise my eyebrows at him, and he nods, subtly gesturing toward the blacks of my family as they skitter down the hallway.Got it: follow them.I wait until they turn th
Marcus takes me to the cloakroom and collects our coats. He waves off both his bodyguard and his driver when they approach him, even going as far as to step aside to have what looks like a short disagreement with the bodyguard.Finally, the bodyguard shakes his head ruefully, and Marcus waves him off with a smile."Sorry about that," he tells me, helping me into my coat and even buttoning the top for me when my fingers fumble over the material. "Yasin is a little too good at his job sometimes.""How can a bodyguard be too good at his job?" I ask with a smile. "Surely he can't be too good at keeping you alive and away from all the crazy stalkers who might want to corner you or creep through your bedroom window at night."Marcus laughs, really laughs, with his head thrown back and rich mirth coming from deep in his belly. I love being the one to make him laugh like that."Okay, good point," he says, taking me by the arm and leading me out into the chilly night air. "No, he's just a litt
"So, Marcus," Charles leans back in his chair at the club. It's a comfortable chair, wing-backed leather and perfectly situated right in front of the fire. Charles swirls his brandy in its glass, admiring the way the amber liquid gleams in the firelight."Charles," Marcus says with a wry smile. Charles is outwardly calm, but inside he's frustrated. He's never really been able to find an "in" with Marcus. The man doesn't seem to have ever really warmed to him."Lovely wedding," Charles says. "Er, due to your family's generosity, I mean. Daisy and I are so grateful.""Yes, well," Marcus says, sipping his own brandy. "Daisy is the baby of the family, after all. You know how it is.""Indeed," Charles says. "Your–date was looking very well, I must say. How did you meet Nicole?" He doesn't mention that Nicole has already given her version of the story. He wants to hear what Marcus's side of it will be.Marcus's eyes brighten at the mention of Nicole, which Charles dislikes almost as much as
Kent nods. "That makes sense. But why not ask Marcus for help? He's even more powerful than I am, and the help he can give would be above board.""Marcus is Charles's family now," I say with a shrug. "He can't truly help me, and I can't truly trust him.""You could seduce him," Kent says. "Create a rift within the family.""Absolutely not," I say automatically. "That's not who I am."Kent looks skeptical. "Or is there maybe another reason?"I look at him in surprise."Come on, Nicole. I saw the way you looked at him at the wedding reception," Kent says. "You have feelings for him. I just don't think you realize that yet."Annoyance and self-consciousness crackle through my veins, and I scowl at Kent."That is none of your business," I snap in a whisper. "If you're going to poke into my private life like that, you can forget about being partners. It'll never work.""All right, all right!" Kent raises his hands in a defensive position. "I'm sorry."I take a drink of my fresh whisky and
"Nicole? Are you still there?" Kent sounds like he's asked this a couple of times, and his voice sounds impatient. I shake myself from where I'm standing at my hotel window, staring through the dingy gray curtains out onto an even dingier gray street."Sorry," I say. "I'm here. I'm just – well, Kent, I'm really freaking terrified."Kent's voice softens immediately."I know, Nick," he says. His tone becomes low, soothing, steady. I latch onto it, letting it ground me. "Trust me, this is big, and I'd be scared shitless if I were you, too.""Gee, that makes me feel better," I say, trying to make a joke of it. Kent laughs, softly and kindly."It should," he says. "Look, Nicole, you'd be an idiot if you weren't scared. I'm scared. I'd feel a lot less confident in this plan if you weren't feeling scared.""Really?" I ask, wrapping my worn wool cardigan more tightly around myself. The light in my hotel room is dim, the walls bleak and cheerless. Everything around me is colorless, just like m