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
"Boss?" One of Charles's staff is bobbing outside his open office door, hovering like he isn't sure he's supposed to knock or not. Charles refrains from rolling his eyes."Yes, Mickle, what is it?" Charles is tense. He had to pull a couple of big strings to get the police to jump on chasing Nicole's car, and he's nervous about the outcome. So much for the war on drugs; if Charles hadn't offered a substantial bribe, the Chief of Police couldn't have cared less."We have news," Mickle says, still hovering. Charles perks up at that."Well, for god's sake, get in here and close the door, then," he snaps, sitting upright behind his desk and reaching for the decanter of whisky on the bar cart behind him. He pours himself a healthy glug and drinks half of it in one go, not bothering to offer any to Mickle.Mickle scuttles inside and shuts the door behind him."I just got a call from our officer inside," he says, sounding breathless. "It's over. It's done. Nicole is dead."Charles chokes on h
"Marcus!" I shout, tripping over the last step at the bottom of the staircase. "Ouch! Damn it, we need to get that fixed. Marcus, where are you?""I'm in here, carina," Marcus calls back. He comes out of the kitchen with a raised eyebrow. "Just making your coffee. I think I've almost got this machine figured out, I swear."I burst out laughing. "It's been five years, honey. I think if you were going to get along with that machine, it would've happened by now."
"I'm so glad you chose a December wedding, darling girl," Jeanette says to me, looking a bit misty-eyed. She steps back from the mirror we're both looking in after adjusting my veil and clasps her hands in front of her."Me, too," I breathe, lifting a hand to touch my face. Jeanette slaps it away, playfully."What are you doing?" she exclaims. "You're going to ruin all of Maya's hard work. You look stunning, my dearest. Don't smudge your foundation, I beg of you. Are you nervous? A mimos
The biggest problem with waitressing is that Becki really freaking hates it, okay?It's miserable. People are so rude to you, all the time, and your arms ache after each shift from carrying around everybody's hot plates and their stupid trays of cocktails and wine and soda and god knows what else.And nobody is ever happy, either. They ordered a Cabernet Sauvignon, but all your restaurant sells is Merlot. Well. You'd think the entire sky was falling down, the way some people car
The dinner is sumptuous, one of the most elegant dinners I've ever had, even by Alpha-family standards. It's an old-school seven course dinner, with hors d'oeuvres circulating on silver trays along with trays of champagne while the servers set up for dinner.Then comes the soup, which is a crab bisque that I could eat all night long, even if there were no other courses. I make a mental note to tell Marcus that I definitely want it served at our wedding.Next are the appetizers - a sort o
A few weeks later, I'm at the villa, poring over paint samples. Jeanette has been very generous in helping me with ideas for a massive makeover for the villa, and I'm excited to make the place really my own.Well, mine and Marcus's, of course. He comes home in the evenings from his business duties at the hotel to have a glass of wine with me and talk over options. We've discussed decorators, but for now, I think I'd like to handle most of the decisions myself."You surely don't expect to
The next morning, Marcus and I are having coffee in the villa kitchen when my phone rings again. I tense up and check the caller ID to make sure it's not my father again, and I heave a sigh of relief when I see that it's Jack Darlington."Hey, Jack," I say when I answer the phone. Marcus raises his eyebrows at me in question, and I shrug. "What's up?""What's up is that I have some fantastic news for you," Jack says at the other end of the line. There's a rush of traffic and voices in th
A week later, I'm starting to feel like I've really settled into my new life full of possibility and hope. Things are so much easier now, and not just because I don't have to hide who I am anymore.As soon as Charles was taken away by police and chucked into jail where he belongs, awaiting his trial in the human court system, it was like a black cloud of despair and tension finally lifted from over my head.It's time for me to move on, into my new life, with my new family and friends.
"Do I look all right?" I ask Marcus in our bedroom at the villa. I'm staring at myself in the mirror, smoothing my navy blue dress over my hips. "I've never been to a Werewolf Council before; I'm not exactly sure what I'm supposed to wear.""You look fantastic," Marcus says, coming up behind me to tug my zipper all the way to the top of my dress. "Very professional. A real Alpha's Heir wife.""Fiancee," I say with a smile. I tuck a curl - now back to its original brown - behind my ear. M
"It's terribly convenient for you, Marcus, that your paramour owns an entire villa for you to move into at the drop of a hat," Liam grumbles the next day as he helps us wheel our suitcases to the elevators. "Some of us are going to be in this bloody hotel for the next decade, if the fire department has anything to say about it.""It's not the fire department's fault that Nicole's ex-boyfriend is a psychotic arsonist," Marcus responds, shooting me a wicked little grin. I whack his arm playfully.