“Richard,” Will said, waving him off to hold the door open for me himself.
I slid in, and he climbed in after me before pulling the door shut behind us.
As we started down the street, I focused on Will: his proximity, the smell of his cologne, his startlingly blue eyes staring at me with such an insatiable desire that my already unsteady heart began beating faster.
“You’re going to have to stop staring sooner or later,” I said, grinning.
“Why?” he asked, raising his brow in question and smirking. “I like the view.”
Fighting a smile, I looked away and we fell into a contented and comfortable silence. The next several minutes passed by in a blur of buildings and streetlights while I tried to think only of tonight. Will would know the truth soon enough; I would divulge everything to him, every horrible detail, and once he knew the truth, and if he accepted me for who I really was, maybe I could finally learn to live again. Not just exist, but live—really and truly.
Breaking the silence, Will cleared his throat and captured my attention. “So I should probably fill you in on my family,” he said, looking uncomfortable.
His family. I feared meeting them almost as much as I feared telling Will the truth. To be honest, after Will had told me how they would react to me, I could have quite happily forgone meeting them forever. Yet it seemed important to him—how could I deny him this small thing? And regardless of how much he warned me of them, how bad could they really be? What kind of person would look down on another person simply because of their profession or finances? Or in my case, lack of finances.
“I’ll apologize in advance,” he continued. “They’re…how do I put this?” Running his hand through his hair, he let out a long, suffering sigh and shrugged helplessly. “They’re assholes.”
In front, Richard barked out a laugh. “That’s putting it mildly,” he muttered.
Snorting, I shook my head, only to find that Will wasn’t laughing. He was watching me, his features pinched with worry.
“What is it?” I asked, taking his hand in mine.
“I want them to be nice to you,” he muttered.
“Me too,” I said, laughing.
Looking away, he shifted in his seat. “My family, they tend to marry other—”
“Whoa there,” I said, “who said anything about marriage?”
Again Richard laughed, causing Will’s cheeks to flush.
“No,” he started, and dragged a hand down his face. “No, I didn’t mean—”
I laughed softly. “I know what you meant. And I get it: your family won’t approve of me because…well, because I don’t meet their standards. I get it, but Will, I’m not here for them. I’m here for you.”
And I meant what I said. I was there for Will, not his family. His family, as much as I hoped they’d like me, didn’t concern me. What concerned me was how Will would react if his family was truly as bad as he was making them out to be. If they disapproved of me…would he?
Lifting my hand to his mouth, Will placed several soft kisses on my knuckles. “I adore you,” he said, smiling.
“We’re here,” Richard announced, and we both turned toward the window. Richard had just turned down a long, winding path, the gallery seated proudly at the end of it. Seeing other cars in the distance, the many people, the cameras flashing, the expense, the sheer luxury of everything…a shiver snaked up the back of my neck.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
I shook my head no and he smiled.
We pulled up in front of the large stone steps, a red carpet draped atop them and tuxedo-clad waiters standing on either side. The door opened and Will stepped out first, and then reached for me. Grasping his hand, I took a steadying breath, feeling sick, all my confident words from only moments ago flying out the proverbial window.
“Hey,” Will said softly. Cupping my chin, he gently lifted my face.
I looked up into his eyes, finding him smiling at me as if we had all the time in the world, as if I wasn’t about to meet his family and be shunned and shamed in front of an entire gathering of the rich and famous.
“We can leave,” he said softly. “We don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable.”
Closing my eyes, I blew out a breath. “No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “No, we’re doing this.”
“You sure?”
Opening my eyes, I nodded. “I’m sure. Let’s do this.”
Hugging me to his side, he started forward. Flashes went off, Will’s name was called—though what they asked of him, I didn’t know. Clinging to him, I kept my head down as he guided me quickly up the steps and into the gallery.
Once inside, Will pulled us into a dim corner, out of the way of the people entering behind us. Wrapping his arms around my waist, he looked down at me, concern creasing his features. “You okay?” he asked softly.
“Yes,” I lied, my heart still fluttering in my chest.
“That’s good,” he whispered, “because the visitors have spotted the monkeys.”
I frowned up at him. “Monkeys?”
“My parents,” he answered. “They were ahead of us, and now they’re waiting for us.”
Even as my stomach plummeted into my feet, I laughed lightly. “Did you just call me a monkey?”
Grinning sheepishly, Will snorted. “I guess I did… Ready?”
Interlocking his fingers with mine, Will tugged me forward. Swallowing hard, I raised my gaze. Just beyond the next set of doors, standing off to the side and out of the way of the flow of people, were a good-looking older couple.
His mother was beautiful—strikingly so. Tall and slender, with long blond hair pinned back from her face, and eyes just like Will’s—a piercing blue—yet they weren’t quite the same. As we grew closer, as I held her gaze I realized what was missing: they were lacking the warmth and light that his held. Standing beside her, his eyes firmly fixated on Will, his father was a handsome older man: clean-shaven, and his light brown hair peppered with gray.
“Mother, Father,” Will greeted his parents. “This is Mila. And Mila…” Will paused to glance at me. “…meet Elise and William, my parents.”
Will released my hand, and I took Elise’s waiting one, giving it a gentle shake. Unexpectedly, she leaned in and kissed the air beside both my cheeks. Startled and surprised, I barely had enough to time to return the gesture before she’d pulled away.
“You look lovely, Mila,” Elise said smoothly. As she looked me over from head to toe, her tentative smile turned cutting. “Your dress,” she mused, her tone soft. “A Chanel, I believe?”
“It was a gift,” Will interjected, and I breathed a silent breath of relief, grateful he’d saved me from the embarrassment of not knowing who’d made my dress.
His father tutted and looked away, but his mother still held my eye. “Aaah,” she cooed. “How nice for you, Mila. What a lovely gift, you must have been thrilled.”
Her tone was nothing but kind, sugary sweet without an ounce of resentment. To hear her, one wouldn’t think she was anything but a loving mother simply greeting her son and his girlfriend. But her eyes told a different story; Elise Townsend used her eyes as her weapon. They took me in, scoured me with disapproval, and then promptly tossed me into the garbage where, by Elise’s obvious standards, I rightly belonged.
Shame flooded my cheeks. I hadn’t asked Will to buy me anything. Worse, I couldn’t think of a single thing to say response. Would it have been better if I had worn one of Nikki’s dresses? Probably not. There was no winning his parents over; I could see that now. I would never be good enough for their son, and who could blame them? I certainly wouldn’t want a woman like me messed up with my son.
“My son must be a dream come true for you, Mila,” she continued, ignoring her son. “A real-life Cinderella story, yes?” She laughed lightly, the sound trilling and without humor.
Will’s hand clenched around mine. “Mother,” he said, his tone low and reprimanding.
; “William,” his father cut in, his voice deeper, more resonating than I’d expected it to be. “Mila. It was a pleasure to meet you. Please, enjoy yourselves.”
Then, without yet having looked at me, he turned on his heel and walked off into the crowd.
Elise flashed us both a both a conciliatory smile, reached out and patted Will on the arm, and then turned to follow her husband.
We stood there in silence, me attempting to swallow back the tears that were suddenly threatening to make an appearance while Will stared daggers after his parents’ retreating forms.
“I’m so sorry,” he gritted out, his cheeks flushed with anger, his tone tinged with disappointment. “We’ll leave.”
I shook my head dismissively, as if none of it mattered. “Its fine,” I whispered, trying to sound stronger than I felt. “I’m fine, I promise.”
“Mila—”
“I do need to use the bathroom, though.”
“Mila—”
“Don’t be silly, Will,” I said, releasing his hand. “It’s fine, and I’m fine.” Glancing around, I scoured the large space, seeking out the restrooms. “I’ll be right back,” I told him over my shoulder, and started making my way across the lobby.
A large wooden door gave way to a small powder area and an attendant seated near a row of mirrors. The older woman smiled politely at me as I passed by her and into the next room, where the stalls were located. It was quiet in there, the lighting soft and soothing, and part of me wished I could spend the entire evening in there instead.
Bypassing the stalls, I headed toward the row of sinks and turned on the water. Running my hands beneath the cool stream, I stared at my reflection in the glass.
My face and neck were flushed red, my eyes shining with unshed tears, yet the rest of me still looked immaculate—my lipstick, my complexion, my hair, and the beautiful dress that Will had chosen for me. Elise had been right: he did have great taste in clothes. Perhaps she was right about a lot of things. I was nothing but a…liar. My past, everything I’d run from was indeed something to be ashamed of, and someone like me had no business with a man like Will.
But he loved me, didn’t he? And I loved him. And while that should be all that mattered, I knew it wasn’t. Will only knew the me I’d invented, the woman I wished I’d been instead of the woman I actually was.
What would happen when I told him the truth?
* * *
It was a typical gala, the attendees comprised of only the cream of the financial crop, all donning lavish gowns and designer tuxedos, flaunting themselves at one another, each one trying to outdo the other. Will had been to a hundred just like this one. Usually he only made an appearance for his family’s sake and then made up some excuse as to why he couldn’t stay very long, but tonight was different.
Tonight he’d wanted to introduce the woman he had fallen in love with to his family, and so far, that hadn’t exactly gone well.
Of course, he hadn’t expected it to go well, but he’d hoped that just maybe…
Shaking his head, he folded his arms across his chest and for the umpteenth time glanced from the entranceway where he stood to the ladies’ bathroom in the foyer. Mila might have verbally brushed off his parents’ obvious dismissal of her, but he could tell she was bothered. And she wasn’t the only one. Even expecting this sort of behavior from them, he hadn’t been prepared for the actual feelings that came with it.
He was angry, for one. And also hurt that his parents thought so very little of him and his choices. But more than anything, he was embarrassed—embarrassed for himself that his family was so shortsighted, and embarrassed for them, of their views on the world and the way they came across to others not of their social status.
So Mila didn’t have money, she didn’t come from a family with a long line of financial notoriety. Who the hell cared? Money didn’t make you any better of a person. Money didn’t—
The bathroom door opened and Will’s train of thought shut down. Watching as Mila emerged slowly from the bathroom, he took in her expression with grim resignation. She was upset, and all his plans for a beautiful evening together had been flushed down the toilet before they’d even had a chance. And what the hell had he expected? It had been stupid of him, thoughtless to think that his family was going to love her as much as he did.
Was this what their future held? Consistent disappointment in his family and their behavior? How long would Mila be able to handle this sort of treatment? And would they eventually warm up to her before Mila decided to couldn’t take another moment and split on him?
Shrugging away his thoughts, he dropped his arms to his sides and started for Mila, meeting her in the middle of the foyer.
“Let’s leave,” he said, taking her hands in his. “There’s no reason you should be subjected—”
His words were abruptly cut off when Mila’s head lifted, her green eyes sparkling, a magnificent, toothy smile tilting her lips.
“No,” she said, her tone determined. “You bought me this amazing dress, William Townsend, and Nikki spent over an hour doing my hair and makeup. And you’ve put on a tuxedo, and even swapped your sneakers for those awfully uncomfortable-looking shoes, all so you could take me here, to this beautiful gallery that I never knew existed before tonight.” Stretching her neck, she pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “And you promised me a dance, and I’m going to collect on that promise.”
“You’re amazing,” he said, staring down at her, slightly in awe of her courage. “Not the dress. Not the hair or the makeup. Just you. You know that, right?”
A shadow of sadness flickered across her features, but in a blink it was gone and once again Mila was smiling up at him. “Shut up,” she said, her laughter a soft tinkle, “and dance with me.”
Chapter Eighteen
Will danced like he made love: with capable and seductive grace. His hands were warm on my waist, his body flush against mine, and his blue eyes were burning holes straight through me. We moved across the dance floor with ease, and I caught the admiring glances from both men and women alike. Yes, he could dance, and so could I. I didn’t know any actual dances, but I did know how to mold my body against my partner’s and move to the music.
The room was lit by a thousand tiny lights hanging like a net above the dance floor. The gala was supposed to be in the aid of ending Rhino poaching, yet I wasn’t so sure that was the reason most of the people in attendance had come; other than a few large black-and-white photographs of rhinoceroses in the wild, there was nothing to suggest what the event was being held for.
I was breathless by the time the live band had finished their first set, looking at Will with pleading eyes, begging for a break. Grinning at me, he led me off the dance floor, leaving me standing alone as he headed toward the bar. I smiled after him, feeling adamant that we’d have a great night, or at least that he would. I wasn’t going to give his parents the satisfaction of leaving, or embarrass Will by making a scene.
“A manhattan,” Will said, appearing beside me.
Taking the drink from him, I murmured my thanks and took a sip.
“You really are amazing,” he said, his eyes trailing up and down my body.
“You’re not too bad yourself,” I whispered.
“William.”
A lithe, blond woman pushed between us, sidling up next to Will. Wrapping her arm around his waist, she leaned in and hissed, “Photo op.”
A man holding a large camera snapped several photos of her and Will while I looked on, shifting uncomfortably, confusion and jealousy twisting in my gut. Who was she? Was she an ex?
“Grace, I’d like you to meet someone.” Turning away from the cameras, he gestured toward me. “Grace, this is Mila. Mila, my sister Grace.”
My eyes widened as both shock and relief washed over me. Of course she was his sister; this was her event, after all. And now that I knew who she was, I could see the striking resemblance between her and Elise. And much like her mother, she too was looking at me wi
th obvious disdain.
“Whatever happened to Michelle Collier?” Dismissing me before she’d had half a chance to even look at me, Grace turned to her brother. “You knew that having her family name attached to this event would have been great PR. You never see the big picture, William, that’s always been your problem. You’re a dreamer, never a thinker.”
My mouth fell open. Yes, I was once again humiliated, but more than anything I was shocked that Will would let his own sister speak to him so horribly. Yet Will seemed utterly unconcerned, and amused, even, by his sister’s words, as if he’d heard them so many times before that they held no meaning anymore.
However, this was my first time hearing them, and I wasn’t amused.
“Will,” I said, knowing it was time to leave. I couldn’t stomach another minute of these people.
“His name is William,” Grace said, narrowing her eyes at me. “Not Will. Not Willy, not Bill or Billy. He’s not a child or a pop star. His name—our family’s name—isn’t something to be taken lightly or spoken without regard. Do you understand that?”
“Grace,” Will growled, his voice low enough that only we could hear. “Stop it. Stop it now.”
Ignoring him, her nostrils flaring, Grace outright glared at me. “Do you grasp that, Milly?”
Standing there in shock, staring at her, I felt as if I’d been slapped. I would never win this family over, I knew that now. There was nothing I could do, nothing I could say—nothing would ever be good enough for them. Their own flesh and blood, Will, wasn’t even good enough for them.
“No,” I said. “I’m sorry, I guess I don’t grasp that. I always thought that someone’s name should reflect who they were, not their family. And Will isn’t a William to me. William suggests he’s uptight and stuffy, and more concerned with money and appearance than anything else. While Will suggests he’s fun, lighthearted, and a pleasure to be around, which you would know that he is if you knew him. But you don’t know that, do you? Because you don’t know your own brother at all.”
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