I’d make him tell me why.
After completing the last report with focused precision, I snapped the folder closed, letting out a breathy sigh. I already felt a bit lighter knowing I was going to go to him.
With Bree gone for the day, I tidied up my desk and was about to head out when my door pushed open, my father filling the doorway.
“Ethan!” he called jovially.
Attention snapping up, I gave him an odd look because he was using his “work” voice with me and it was after hours.
“Father?”
“It appears that we came at the perfect time. You just finishing up for the day?”
We? I nodded. “Yes, I’m on my way out.”
“I have a surprise for you,” he said, turning sideways to glance behind him.
What is he up to now?
“Sienna, honey, don’t be shy. Come meet my son, Ethan.”
The internal groan I let loose could have ruptured an organ. Maybe if it had, I would have been able to get out of this.
The look on my face must have reflected my inner thoughts because I got that parental death glare that promised unbearable pain if I didn’t straighten up.
I didn’t understand why that worked even when you were an adult.
Because you let it.
I really had no time right now for my painfully truthful inner dialogue.
Plastering on the well-mannered aura everyone knew me for, I watched as Sienna Pope gracefully stepped through the door.
I’d give my father credit. He definitely knew how to pick them. Sienna was a gorgeous woman, one that would definitely inspire jealousy and trips to the nip-and-tuck doctor for the women of the Upper East Side.
Except of course Ivory. Ivory White was the fairest of them all.
Sienna came close, though, with long, thick chestnut hair that waved past her shoulders, accentuating a California golden-hued complexion, warm-brown eyes, dainty nose, and high cheekbones that were expertly contoured and delicately blushed.
She was tall, probably around five feet seven—around Fletcher’s height—with a long, slender build. Her attire was, of course, impeccable with a pale-pink tulle skirt that swished around her ankles. She also wore golden, strappy high-heeled sandals and a white lace top tucked in. The golden clutch in her manicured hand boasted an exclusive label on the clasp. Thin golden bracelets tinkled around her wrists, and golden rings adorned several of her long fingers.
“Ms. Pope,” I said smoothly, coming around my desk. “I’ve been anticipating your arrival. If I had known it was today, I would have met you at the airport.”
“Please, call me Sienna,” she said, glossy lips parting to show perfectly straight white teeth. “And nonsense on the airport. You have better things to do.”
“You take precedence over it all!” my father declared, stepping fully into the office behind her and giving me another look.
“You’ll have to excuse me. I forgot my manners momentarily. You must be used to that by now, though, as I’m sure so many do the same upon first making your acquaintance.”
So lame.
But also entirely expected of me.
Moving forward, I grasped her hand, bringing it up to press my lips against the back of it. “Such a pleasure to finally meet you.”
Behind us, my father preened like a ridiculous peacock.
She laughed lightly, the bracelets on her wrist lending a musical background. “It’s also a pleasure to meet you. Are you sure we aren’t interrupting? Your father assured we wouldn’t be, but I would hate to be a burden.”
“Of course not. I was finished and about to leave. How was your flight? Are you tired from the travel?” Gesturing to the sofa close by, I said, “Would you like to sit down?”
She smiled. “Not at all. I got in earlier today and rested. So kind of your parents to allow me to stay with them.”
“Your comfort while you are here is our top priority,” I answered smoothly.
These conversations used to be so easy for me, and now, uttering this nonsense felt so superficial and fake. I was tired of that life. I wanted real.
“About that, I made a reservation for you at Empire. I thought it was a good way to introduce Sienna to New York City.”
Dinner? Tonight? Right now?
Bitterness flung itself up the back of my throat, the flavor sour. How much longer was I going to allow this man to dictate my life?
“Does it have a city view?” Sienna inquired, her words punctuated by the slide of her hand into the crook of my arm.
My father practically cawed in delight, and I stifled a sigh.
“It has one of the best city views. It’s one of our most exclusive restaurants,” I replied, smiling down at her. It was also one where everyone went to “be seen,” and clearly, my father wanted the entire Upper East Side to see me with her.
Sidling a little closer, she clasped her fingers a little tighter into my jacket.
It was wrong. Completely wrong. These were not the fingers I wanted to cling to me.
“I can’t wait to tell Daddy all about it,” she crooned.
My father smiled, a triumphant glint in his eyes. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Have a good time, and make sure you tell Ethan all the places you want to see while you’re here. He will make sure it happens.”
I murmured an agreement as he left, holding back from spewing so many things.
So many truths.
But I didn’t.
Not because I didn’t ache to but because right now was not the time. It would be abrupt and rude. Sienna didn’t know what she’d stepped into. She didn’t know anything about me. Hell, she was probably her father’s pawn too.
It seemed the least I could do was take her to dinner. It was no less than I would do for any client. That was what Sienna was to me, a client. Part of a business deal. She was also a means to an end to keep my father at bay.
“I’ve seen photos of you, but I have to say they really didn’t do you justice.”
I glanced down at her words. She was smiling, holding on to me while honey dripped off her tongue. It was that sticky honey that held her mask in place.
She might be beautiful, but she was just like everyone else in my world. Insincere and vacant. The glint in her eye, though… Perhaps she wasn’t her father’s pawn. Perhaps he was hers.
I laughed low, a fake sound she wouldn’t recognize. “Well, I could say the same to you.”
“We make a striking couple, don’t we?”
I made a sound, alluding to agreement. I supposed, in a sense, she was right. We did make a visual pair.
But we were no couple and never would be.
Dinner was a blur I could barely recall after it was over. I flipped the switch to automatic, slipping easily into the man everyone knew and loved. I smiled, laughed, and entertained the woman across from me. We talked about family and her socialite life in California.
The only moments of real clarity I felt were when I gazed out the massive windows into the city and thought of Fletcher.
Where are you right now? Are you safe?
After dinner, she mentioned a temporary art exhibit on display nearby. Naturally, I escorted her because being a prince meant I had to act like one.
We wandered through the open space, the hushed atmosphere a backdrop to the art. I found myself comparing it to Neo’s more colorful, graffiti style and becoming bored. A particular sculpture of a bust caught my attention, and I paused in front of it, tucking my hands into my trouser pockets to stare but not really look. In my mind, I was seeing the smaller bust in my foyer and hearing Fletcher say a Spider-Man statue would be better.
“You like this piece?” Sienna asked, coming to stand beside me, slipping her arm through mine.
“It reminds me of someone,” I replied, still gazing at it.
“Really? Who?”
I was prepared with a flippant, general reply, even turning my head to deliver it with ease, but with Fletcher filling my heart and
my head, I changed my mind. “Actually, the person I like.”
Her fingers tightened upon hearing my words. Interesting, right? She didn’t let go. She clung tighter.
That should tell you a lot.
“You’re involved with someone?”
I nodded. “Yes. I am. And I feel that a woman of your caliber deserves the truth.”
“But your father…”
“My father doesn’t know about this person. Not many people do. It’s, ah, complicated. And frankly, private.”
“Why?” She was almost demanding, instantly brushing off that I said it was private because, in her world, she was the exception to every rule.
I could have pointed this out in a scathing manner, but what would be the point?
“It’s new and something I intend to protect.”
“So she’s poor, and Daddy won’t approve.”
See? Calculating and smart. A woman not to be underestimated.
“I definitely do not call my father daddy.”
“I know that I’m here basically as a bargaining chip. Our fathers want to do some archaic form of business and use their children as collateral.”
I felt my eyebrow lift. “Is that a thing on the West Coast too?”
“It’s a monied thing no matter where you live.”
“Touché.”
“But you intrigue me. You have for a while, which is why I planted the seeds for this meeting months ago.”
I wasn’t surprised. Not one bit. I was, however, a bit shocked to hear I intrigued her. “You’re intrigued by me?”
“You let the richest heiress in the country slip out of your grasp and don’t seem the least bit upset. You’re the first man in a long time to not fall over himself to impress me, and during our first date, you tell me you already have someone and that person is poor.” She said the last part as though it were a sinful secret, and that was when I decided once and for all I didn’t like this woman in the least. Even her looks ceased to impress me.
Up until this point, she’d been tolerable, and I’d even felt the urge to be honest with her. She was a typical spoiled elite, a product of her environment, and that was fine.
We were all products of our environment. I didn’t think this was her flaw.
Her flaw?
She implied Fletcher was somehow less than because his bank account was lacking. And that I would never forgive.
“This is not a date.” I clarified, no room for debate in the words.
She smiled as though the denial somehow pleased her. “At first, I just thought you were handsome, and I like that you live on the other side of the country from my father. But now that we’ve met, I realize there is so much more to you.”
“It’s late. I’ll escort you back to my parents’ penthouse.”
Her hand slipped around my bicep once more, and I had to grit my teeth to keep myself from removing it. The trip to my parents’ building was short, and I told the valet to just keep my Mercedes up front because I wouldn’t be long.
Doing my gentlemanly duty, I accompanied Sienna up in the elevator, walking her all the way to the large pristine white door with gleaming gold hardware.
Pulling out the keycard, I hesitated before engaging the lock. Turning back toward her, I began. “I would appreciate—”
She smiled indulgently, eyes gleaming with pleasure. “Don’t worry, Ethan. I won’t tell them that you are secretly dating someone they won’t approve of.”
Oh, I hated her words. Not only that, but they brought an echo into the back of my mind in the sound of Neo’s voice. I won’t let you make him some dirty little secret.
A sick feeling plagued the deepest pit in my stomach, expanding until my entire midsection roiled with turmoil.
“It’s not a secret,” I snapped, making her eyes go wide. Sucking in a deep breath, I didn’t bother to tamper back my expression. Let her see who she was dealing with. “But it’s also a private matter. I have the intention and the right to speak to my family myself.”
When I held out the card to be scanned, the door beeped, the locks unlatching.
Grasping the handle, I turned back, regarding her. “I will honor my word and show you around the city. Please let me know if there is anything you want to see. I will also wait until you are on a plane to break the news to my father so things aren’t uncomfortable for you.”
“How chivalrous.”
“Call it what you want,” I said, my patience so thin it was about to snap.
I’d wasted a lot of precious time tonight that I could have spent with Fletcher.
“I always do,” she purred, moving forward to enter the penthouse. Her entire side brushed along my midsection as she went.
I wanted to laugh that she thought that would entice me.
Before she was fully inside and I could shut the door, she turned back, dark hair falling around her shoulders and a glimmer in her gaze. “The way I see it, I have the rest of my stay here to convince you I’m actually the match for you.”
I didn’t hold back my laugh this time.
Leaning close, I looked straight into her conniving eyes. “I have no doubt you are used to getting what you want. But not this time, princess. This prince isn’t interested.”
I closed the door with an audible click, cutting off the view of her surprised expression.
As I went back to my car, I mulled over the evening. I didn’t regret telling Sienna what I did. Even if I hadn’t realized I planned to tell my parents about Fletch the second she was gone, the moment the words were out, they felt exactly right.
I wasn’t embarrassed about Fletcher. I wasn’t even worried if my parents would accept him. They would or they wouldn’t.
I didn’t care.
I was beyond that point. I was done living for everyone else. I was going to live for me now.
For Fletcher.
Still, a part of me worried I’d just made this into some kind of game to that West Coast piece of work, and games were her favorite thing to play.
22
Fletcher
* * *
I wasn’t a glutton for punishment. In fact, I didn’t like being punished at all. I tried to avoid it.
Yet here I was.
Walking through the gloomy day over gritty, littered sidewalks, past an alleyway I once hid in, and avoiding the bakery I’d stolen from.
I told my brothers everything was great. I wasn’t sure they believed me, but even if they did, they probably didn’t now. I didn’t tell them where I was going, but I was sure they knew.
After I spent some time helping Earth with the bar, playing a video game with Beau, and filling the fridge with groceries, I still couldn’t shake the feelings rattling around inside me.
It seemed some distance and time to think did nothing to calm my fear. If anything, I grew more anxious.
I missed him. His scent, the softness of his voice, his eyes when he looked at me. His touch. His lips. I craved his affection and kisses so much it left an ache inside me, making me wonder why I’d parted from him at all.
You know why.
Yes, because if it was this hard now, imagine how hard it would be in a few months.
So I pulled on my old worn-out coat, shoved my hair under a black knit beanie, and set out to a place I knew that would remind me of who I was and who I would never be.
The wind was bitter and the sun almost completely gone for the day. Though dirty, the sidewalk seemed to be the brightest thing out here this evening, but when I finally turned onto the street where I grew up, everything turned dark.
No stars shined overhead, the moon nowhere in sight. All that existed was me, the chilling darkness, and a row of dilapidated brownstones that were haunted not only by age but by everything they’d seen.
My nose was numb from the wind, my cheeks prickled with the last bit of feeling. Ragged pieces of the old homes banged against each other, rattling and clanking almost like warnings for me to turn back.
There was
no use in turning back from the place I had always been.
Cold air pushed through the threadbare fabric of my pocket, making my fingers ache and curl closer into my palms. The hand curled around the handle of my violin case had gone numb a few streets back. If it wasn’t for Ethan’s jacket, which I had layered on beneath mine, the rest of me would probably be numb too.
Funny how he keeps me warm even when we’re apart.
A small light lit up the front window of my destination. It shone through the broken slats of the old blinds that had been hanging there all my life. Another harsh wind whistled, cutting through the night as I crept around the side, fingers fumbling to open up the hiding spot for my precious instrument. Once it was tucked away, I trudged up the cement steps, letting myself into a place I lived but never really considered home.
The air inside was warmer, but not by much. Shuffling past the crooked, dark staircase, I stepped into the small living room, gaze going immediately to the small lamp on a table beside the couch.
Mother sat near it, a blanket covering her lower half. In her lap was a ball of yarn, and in her hands, she held two large needles.
“I need a refill,” she said, not even looking up.
My eyes strayed to the empty glass on the coffee table. The TV hanging on the wall was on, but the sound was so low I couldn’t hear it as I passed by on the way to the kitchen.
Most of the cabinets in here no longer had doors. They’d all fallen off long ago, except for one. And I went to it, opening it with a loud creak to see a large bottle of clear liquid sitting on a shelf.
I brought the vodka with me, pouring more than I should into her glass, then setting the half-empty bottle beside it.
“What are you making?” I asked, looking at whatever she knitted.
“Like you care.”
“Guess I don’t.”
The needles fell into her lap, and she looked up, an echo of surprise on her face. “What did you just say?”
Maybe the unsettled way I’d been feeling all day made me brave. Or maybe I wanted to set her off. Whatever the cause, my eyes leveled on hers. “I said I don’t care what you’re making. You’ll probably be too drunk to finish it anyway.”
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