I’ll need more than luck, but I don’t say that to him.
Straightening my collar, I send a text to Vanessa that I’m on my way to her dorm.
When I pull up, this time she’s waiting out front, having beaten me to meeting her at her door.
I park and hop out before she has a chance to reach the passenger door, opening it smoothly for her and taking a deep, dramatic bow. “For milady.”
She rolls her eyes playfully at me and pushes her hand against my shoulder in a lighthearted gesture as she lowers into the car. She’s wearing one of the dresses I bought her—well, I had a personal stylist pull them after I described what I felt like Vanessa liked most and vetoed anything I knew she wouldn’t like. The green and white dress hugs her body, emphasizing her assets, and I have to silently chant to myself not to stare at her tits.
All the months of celibacy might be catching up to me, because my dick stirs to life, straining against my pants.
“What should I expect today?” She voices as soon as I’m behind the wheel.
I blow out a breath, putting the car in reverse. “Honestly, I don’t know. I’m assuming this is a fundraiser of some sort, so mostly it’ll be my father parading me—and now you—around while he bullshits about what a great son I am and how close we are. My mom will consume enough mimosas that by the time brunch is actually served, she’ll be completely wasted.” I take a breath, feeling the weight and strain in my shoulders from the burden of being a part of my own family. “Everyone there will be ridiculously wealthy. You’ll probably see a few well-known musicians, politicians, and who the hell knows who else might show.” I give a shrug, merging onto the highway.
When I glace at Vanessa, she’s staring at me open-mouthed. I notice for the first time that her hair is pinned up in a bun, a few hairs framing her face.
“What?” I ask, paying attention to the road, slamming my hand onto my horn when a driver tries to cut me off.
“Is my girl Taylor Swift going to be there?”
I snort. “Doubtful. Most of the musicians are the old type.”
“What a tragedy.” She looks out the passenger window.
It’s quiet for a few minutes between us, but I can’t stand the silence for a full hour, so I rack my brain for more questions to ask her.
“Is there any sort of stuffed animal or blanket or something you’ve had since you were a baby?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice her head whip in my direction at the random question. Body relaxing into the leather seat, she sighs, “No. You?”
I rub my lips with my right hand, trying to hide a smile. “A blanket actually. It looks more like a rag now than a blanket.”
She laughs lightly. “And where is it?”
“My dorm, of course.”
Even though I’m not looking at her, I can feel her surprise.
“You’re nothing like I expected,” she murmurs, so softly I’m not sure she meant for me to hear. It’s not like she hasn’t said it before, though.
“What did you expect, darling?” I ask anyway, amusement coloring my tone.
She shakes her head, looking down at her hands. “An overly cocky, jerk more interested in himself than anything else.”
“Ouch.” I fake a wince.
“You asked,” she reminds me.
“That I did,” I sigh, tightening my grip on the wheel. “I think I used to be exactly what you expected.” The admission comes out a bit forlornly. “I mean, I was never purposely arrogant or rude to people, but I definitely thought I was untouchable.”
It takes me by surprise when her hand lands gently on my knee. There’s nothing sexual about the touch. She’s not gliding her fingers tauntingly or sliding them up my thigh. She’s only trying to comfort me, and I think for the first time in my life I realize that small gestures like that mean more than a quick fuck.
“What was it like going to a boarding school?” I don’t know whether she’s trying to distract me from wherever she thinks my brain has gone or is genuinely curious.
“Not so bad. It meant I got to be away from my dad.”
“I know sorry doesn’t change anything, but I am sorry you have a parent like that.”
“We all get bad cards dealt to us now and then. He’s one of mine.” Wanting to change the topic from my dad, especially since I’ll have to spend the entire afternoon in his presence, I say to her, “Tell me something I don’t know about you yet.”
Her hand shifts on my knee. “Well, speaking of cards, I can do card tricks.”
“What?” I blurt in surprise.
“Nothing super fancy, don’t get too excited. But some basic slights of hand are my specialty.”
“I’m still impressed. You’ll have to show me.”
Conversation reaches a lull as we reach the Nashville limits; no doubt, like me, she’s thinking about what we’ll be subjected to when we arrive.
Turning off the highway, I take the familiar stretch of road and turn into the club. The gates open automatically thanks to the tag in my car that it scans. I take the winding road slowly, that way I can glance at Vanessa from time to time and take in her reaction.
The sprawling white plantation style building comes into view and her mouth drops in awe.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Beautiful, but like a lot of beautiful things it’s cold and empty on the inside.”
She bites her lip. “That’s not always true.”
I snort, my knuckles turning white around the wheel with the knowledge that I’m minutes away from facing my father. “Prove me wrong. Give me an example.”
I’m not prepared for her soft exhale of, “You.”
I nearly swerve off the road. “What?”
She blushes, fiddling with the bottom of her dress. “You’re beautiful, Teddy, inside and out. There’s nothing cold or empty about you. I hope you know that.”
My brain doesn’t seem capable of processing what she said.
“Teddy?”
“Mhmm?” I mumble, hoping she can’t hear the catch in my voice.
“Are you okay?”
“As okay as I can be with what we’re facing.”
She looks at me doubtfully but doesn’t pester as we pull beneath the archway, and one of the valets steps forward.
“Welcome, Mr. McCallister,” the young guy says as he swings my door open.
It doesn’t matter how many times I ask them to call me Teddy here, I’m always Mr. McCallister.
I slip out of the car, adjusting my clothes so everything lays correctly and then cross the front of the car, opening Vanessa’s door for her and offering a hand.
Tucking her hand into my elbow, we walk into the building, and I tip my head in greeting at some of the people we pass.
“Do you know where we’re going?” she whispers under her breath, eyes wide as she takes in the club.
“Of course.”
I lead her to the restaurant area of the country club, and she stiffens when she sees how many are gathered. The smell of money practically permeates the air, and Vanessa’s fingers tremble against my elbow as eyes turn to us.
My parents are in the middle of the room, speaking to a group of people, some of which I recognize.