“Yeah, well, fucking me on your desk or in a dark alleyway is different than bringing me home to your parents, Talent.”
He drops his head and mumbles, “I only have one parent. My mom’s dead.”
We linger in silence for one, two, three minutes, because to speak would mean to break down, and I don’t have it in me to pick up the pieces afterward. How do I tell him that I know his mom is gone and that I understand without turning myself inside out and baring my soul at the same time? That’s not an experience I’d come back from, and this isn’t the time or place.
“It would only be a matter of time before your friends or colleagues recognize me.”
“I don’t care,” he says. He brushes my hair away from my face.
“You will.” I meet his stare and his eyes are so sincere, I almost believe he’s strong enough to endure the scrutiny that would hang over him like the sharp edge of a guillotine if he put his head on the line for me. That’s not what I want, and neither does he.
We change at night. The moonless sky romanticizes the impractical and the poison is delicious. But the inevitable rises with the sun, and daylight serves as a reminder that we have too much to lose.
“Give us a chance, Lydia,” Talent whispers. He captures my hips in his large hands and forces me to face him. He hides his face in the curve between my shoulder and my neck and inhales against my bare skin.
I slide my hands up his arms. “Don’t waste your chances on me. I’m not worth it.”
He laughs against my skin and says, “Of course you are.”
Unexpectedly, the fire escape doors open, and Wilder Ridge emerges. He’s a silhouette outlined by the bright light from inside in contrast to our dark hideaway. I kind of want to scratch his eyes out for cutting my time with Talent short, but it’s a sobering example of what’s to come if Talent and I attempt a relationship.
If I questioned whether or not Wilder knows who I am before tonight, I’m a believer now. The extent of his disapproval swallows all the space on the balcony, pushing Talent and me into the corner. Big brother lets the doors slam behind him, and the yellow-orange light spits sinister shadows across his face.
He’s not the villain in our story.
But this is a harrowing foundation for what’s possible.
If Grand Haven’s golden child gave his heart to trash like me, a mob of saviors would arrive to burn the witch at the stake and save him from wickedness.
Wickedness some would gladly fuck for two-thousand dollars an hour before the slaying.
And from the looks of it, Wilder leads the gang of would-be heroes.
He’s a good old-fashioned saint.
Talent doesn’t turn to face his brother. “I’ve been gone for fifteen minutes, Wild.”
Wilder slides his hands into his pockets. “You didn’t slink out here unseen.”
A smirk spreads across Talent’s gorgeous mouth, and he talks over his shoulder without turning away from me. “Which rat snitched and told you where I was?”
Wilder’s eyes reach for the stars, and he exhales, annoyed. “Dad wants you on stage for the check ceremony. I can’t leave until that part’s done. Let’s get this shit over with, Talent, and you can do whatever or whomever you want.”
Talent’s eyes fall closed and he mumbles, “Fuck.”
“You need to go,” I whisper, resting my palms on his chest to push him away if he refuses.
Nothing has more potential for scandal than the younger Ridge son’s absence during the giant check ceremony after rumors he escaped outside with a busty brunette gets around.
“Do you want to go down with me? I won’t be long.”
“No,” I say, faking a smile for his benefit. “I’m going to stay out here for a bit longer.”
He tips my chin up and searches my eyes for untruth. He won’t find it. I’ve made an entire career from lies and secrets. My poker face is undefeated, even as the warmth he ignited inside of me with his kiss freezes over and my heart resumes its dulled pace.
“We’re not done talking.” He lifts my knuckles to his mouth and kisses them. “Don’t disappear. I know where you live.”
I need to find a new apartment, soon, I think to myself as I watch him disappear with his brother. I shake the retractable ladder secured to the side of the fire escape to test its strength. I need to lose the heels to climb down without breaking my neck, but I don’t hate my chances of making it down in one piece. And if I do fall and break a bone, it might hurt less than going inside to see Talent.
Broken bones mend.
My heart hasn’t recovered from the heartbreak I suffered when I lost my mom. I can’t go through that again with Talent.
The Christian Louboutins stay on my feet, and I return to the gala with my head held high and my stomach in knots. I’ve delivered Camilla to the wolves; I won’t let them eat her alive.
I arrive in time to watch Talent, Wilder, and their father David under the spotlight to present their contribution to the Carousel of Love foundation. David Ridge is shorter than his sons and better at plastering a real enough grin on his face for the cameras. Wilder smiles, but I know he’s planning his exit as soon as his time on stage is over. Talent doesn’t bother with the theatrics. He didn’t straighten his tie before joining his family, and his eyes keep flickering toward the second level of the warehouse.
The bartender places a napkin in front of me and asks if I’d like a drink once I’m back in my seat.
“Just a club soda, please.” I’d like to order a whisky to mimic the taste of Talent’s mouth, but it’s almost time to go.
Camilla and I make eye contact from across the room, and her expression visibly calms once she spots me. I shouldn’t have left her alone for so long, but any anxiety she may have suffered due to my disappearance didn’t get in the way of the progress she’s made in the room. The California state assembly speaker and co-founder of tonight’s charity guides Camilla toward a group close to the stage where the Ridges are making their exits. The music turns back up, and the lights dim to open the dance floor up for the remainder of the night. The money is collected, so now it’s time for the sinners to sin.
Talent didn’t notice I’ve returned to my spot at the bar and hurries from the stage to the elevator. I second-guess that whisky and wonder if I can drink it, collect Camilla without making a scene, and get the fuck out of here in the time it takes Talent to realize I’m not waiting for him on the fire escape when I spot Wilder Ridge watching Camilla.
Assemblyman whoever-the-fuck has made her laugh about something, and Wilder looks … astonished, jealous, pensive? He takes a step closer to her but stops short and tucks his hands into his pockets.
“What the—”
“Hey, Cara,” one of Inez’s girls whispers as she walks past me. She winks like we’re members of the same fucking club, and my annoyance distracts me long enough to lose sight of Wilder.
Until he pulls out the stool beside me.
Wilder drops some cash onto the bar and orders two Johnnie Walkers. A preference for quality whisky must be a Ridge thing, and I’m not mad about it.
He hands me a glass and says, “I’m going to make this fast because my brother will be back, and I don’t want to upset him.”