“So, what time should I pick you up?” she asks.
“How about eight?”
“Great! I can’t wait. Oh, and wear something chic and sexy. The guy who’s throwing the party is some hot Australian swimmer, a Mitch something. He was on the cover of Vanity Fair last month.”
“Mitch Hofer?” I ask.
“That’s the one.”
No wonder she wants to go to the party. Mitch is the latest new sports eye candy. He swam in the Olympics and then did some underwear ads in Europe. He’s known worldwide for his excessive bulge. In fact, that’s his nickname, “the Bulge.”
“Can’t wait to meet the swim-trunk legend in the flesh,” I say. Maybe it will take my mind off Sam and this enormous mess I’m in.
“The party’s going to be epic. You won’t regret it.”
“Aren’t those famous last words?” I say.
“Since when did you become superstitious?”
“Since everything stopped going my way. Over the last twenty-one years.”
“Okay. You weren’t joking,” I say to Abi as we pull up behind the long line of cars in an Uber Prius. The other vehicles are flashy and expensive sports cars that go right up there with my BMW. There’s security everywhere, paparazzi lining the street, and hordes of gorgeous people pouring in. “This is epic.” Not the word I’d use, but I don’t want to be a killjoy by telling her this is terrifying.
“It’s going to be so fun.” Abi is practically glowing with excitement, and I think part of it has to do with her outfit. She looks amazing in her short black dress and spiked heels. Her brown hair is flattened to a glossy shine. Everything about her is screaming “Tonight’s my night!”
Then there’s me—my blonde hair in a top knot, red lips, fake eyelashes, black heels, and a short green ’50s-style dress with black swirls that flares out at the waist. It says, “I’m here to have you look at me, but I’m not sure I’m going to like it.” Oh and, “I like dresses that hide nervous spills.”
I groan. “I’ll need tequila. Stat. Pronto. Lickety-split.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
“But we’re only staying an hour. That’s it, Abi. Otherwise, I’m going to freeze up or cry in a closet or something.”
“Why can’t you just accept you’ve turned a corner and have fun for once in your life, huh? I mean, you’re twenty-one, you’re alive and free. You’ve been through hell and back and came out on the other side.” She grabs my arm and gives me a stern look. “You came back from the dead, girl. The dead.”
“You know what, you’re right.” I’m the only college student on the planet who’s never had a good time. My world growing up consisted of being forced to attend fundraisers, polo matches, debutant balls, and making public appearances with my family. Of course, I hid in the kitchen or behind the first tree I could find. It was a nightmare. “I’m going to have fun tonight. I deserve it.”
We thank the driver and step out onto the sidewalk, where a carnivorous pack of wild photographers screams to get our attention while snapping off photos in the hopes that we’ll be someone worthy. Feeling like old times, my heart begins to race, and I shield my face.
Abi takes my free hand. “You got this, Georgie.”
Do I? Do I really?
Yes, I got this. I am not backsliding into my old ways. Not today!
I drop my hand from my face, turn toward the mass of flashes, and wave. “Drink it in, people!”
Having absolutely no clue who I am, they stop shooting.
“Wow. That did not go how I imagined,” I say.
“They’re idiots. Come on.” Abi tugs on my hand, and we head to the front door. It’s invite only, so the security guard, a big-ass dude in a black suit, checks Abi’s name.
“She’s my plus one.” Abi points to me.
“Sorry, ma’am,” he says. “But I only have you on the list. No plus one. You can come in, but your friend cannot.”
“What? No!” she protests.
It’s a sign. I’m sure of it. I’m not ready for parties yet. “It’s okay, Abi. Really. Don’t make a scene.”
“Do you know who she is? Do you?” Abi says to the guy. “This is Georgie Walton. The heiress to the Walton fortune.”
“She could be Elvis’s long-lost Martian love child for all I care. If she’s not on the list, she’s not getting in.”
I see the line of gawkers growing behind us. This is more humiliation than I bargained for tonight. “Thank you. Good night.”
“Uh-uh, sister. You wait right there.” Abi points in my face. “I’m going to go find Mitch’s cousin. He’ll fix this in a minute.” She squeezes my arm. “Don’t you dare go anywhere.” She darts inside and disappears among an ocean of schmoozing bodies.
I step aside and try not to notice that people are staring and smirking at me as they pass.
Oh, God. I am not doing this. I turn and march off toward the street, but head right, away from the group of paparazzi. Sadly, there’s another group in that direction, too. Dammit. This is so embarrassing. Everyone’s going to know I didn’t get in. Why else would I be leaving at 8:30 p.m.?
“Georgie!” I hear a deep familiar voice call out.
I turn and see Sam following behind me. He’s wearing a tailored black suit and black tie. He looks like his usual big, badass, sexy-boss self.
“What are you doing here?”
He smiles, but it’s the guilty kind.
“No. Please do not tell me I’m being followed.”
“It’s part of the job, but I also happen to know the host.”
Do they think I’m going to run away or go blab to my brother? “Well, you can shove your job up your—”
“Eh. Watch that tongue, young lady. I’m not your boss anymore.”
“So?”
“So that means you’re not allowed to swear at me.”
“Says who?” I ask.
“Me.” His mouth curves into a sly, cocky little smile.
“Go away. I’m not in the mood for your fucked-up antics.”
“Are you in the mood for a party?” he asks.
“Notice me marching to the nearest cross street to catch an Uber?” I turn and start walking. The photographers don’t even seem to notice I’m alive because I’m not hiding my face like someone famous.
Sam catches up and starts walking beside me. “I happen to have an invitation and would love you to be my plus one.”
“No, thanks. I’m good.”
He grabs my wrist. “Come on, Georgie. Let me do this one thing for you.”
I stop and face him, jerking my hand away. “I don’t need charity from you, and I hate parties.” I spent my entire life avoiding them because my dad just used them as a vehicle to parade us around like his little trophies of excellent breeding.
“Then why did you come here?” The headlights of a passing limo shine on his handsome, unshaven face, illuminating those chiseled cheekbones and strong jaw I love so much but now choose to ignore.
“Abi, my best friend, didn’t want to come alone.”
“So now you’re abandoning her, huh?” His tone is riddled with judginess.
“Don’t.” I narrow my eyes.
“What?”
“You’re trying to make me feel bad.”
“I think you’re capable of doing that on your own.”
I’m about to tell him to take a hike when my phone goes off, a text from Abi: OMG! Where are u? Plz don’t tell me u left.
“It’s your friend, isn’t it? She’s upset because you abandoned her.” He tsks at me. “Not very loyal, are we, Georgie?”
That sets me off. I hate his condescending tone, and it’s the last straw. The quiet anger that’s been brewing inside me explodes. He messed with my heart. He messed with my life. He’s messing with my family. Yet he has the gall to show up here and pull the “you’re a bad person” card?
“What would you know, Sam McDaniel, about friendship? Or loyalty or anything? You’re just some
lonely, angry, middle-aged man with a bone to pick with the world, who goes around fucking up people’s lives. For what? Does it make you feel better?”
His eyes turn cold, and I expect him to tell me to screw myself or scold me for talking down to him.
I wait, and then I wait some more.
“You’re right,” he finally says. “You’re absolutely right. And no, it does not make me feel better. Nothing has since Kate died, and I doubt anything ever will. Except you.”
I blink at him. I’m not sure I heard right. “Sorry?”
“The day you ranted at me was the first time in years that I actually smiled.”
“Why would that make you happy?”
He scratches his scruffy chin. “Maybe because you surprised me, or maybe it was because I caught a glimpse of the woman hiding underneath that shell. Maybe I liked seeing her.”
I feel the swirls gathering in my stomach, and suddenly I can’t remember why I was yelling at him just now. Perhaps I was mad because he’d faked his feelings for me, and somewhere deep down inside, I wanted them to be real.
But now, I’m not mad anymore. Or am I? “Another sales pitch?”
“No.” He sounds offended that I’d even think it.
“How can I trust anything you say, Sam?”
“Ah.” He nods. “Because I lied to you before. I manipulated you.”
“Exactly.”
“Well, I know someone else who lied. She even gave a presentation to her big brother and pretended not to know him.”
Dammit. He’s got me there. However, the difference is I meant it when I kissed him. I wanted him. Maybe I still do. But I can’t say all that. I’m simply unable to express my emotions the normal way. My way is to start shaking like an incontinent Chihuahua.
No. You’re done with being terminally shy. Ironically, I have Sam to thank for it.
I shrug. “Fine. I lied. But I’m not sure it’s a reason to trust you.”
“Valid point. In fact, if I were you, I’d be thinking right now that this guy is trying to get on my good side so I’ll be more compliant.”
“Nail on the head.”
“Like I said before, you’re smart, Georgie. But I also remember saying that you’re young and beautiful and you have your entire life ahead of you, that you shouldn’t waste any of that on an asshole like me. But…”
“But what?”
He shakes his head as if regretting what he’s about to say, “But that doesn’t mean I don’t really wish things were different.”
I look into those eyes, and they’re filled with something potent that pulls me in. Hard lust. Hopeless desire. Need. I’ve never been looked at by anyone like that, like I’m so damned special they’d burn the world down to the ground just to have me. I think it’s what I’ve been waiting my entire life for.
Before my brain catches up, my body is leaning towards him and his supple lips. He steps in close, and I feel the heat of his body pressed to mine. Suddenly, everything is moving slowly and the world melts away while memories of our first kiss flood my mind. And despite my fear of him and what he’s capable of doing to my heart if I open it, I ache for him.
He stares down at me, and my eyes are locked on his wickedly sensual lips. I feel it happening, me falling back into that hole I know I won’t be able to dig myself out of. I want him even if he’s damaged.
“If you really wish things were different,” I say, my voice quiet, “then let them be.”
He abruptly steps back. “Georgie, I wasn’t lying when I said that it’s never going to happen with us. Some lines can’t be crossed, and you’re—”
“Not some plaything,” I finish his sentence.
“You’re work. It’s all you can ever be to me.”
Ouch. His words are a hard slap across my cheek that wakes me from a trance, leaving my body pulsing and trembling with want. The sting of his rejection, however, is quick to rise, reminding me that he’s tainted by life and loss and everything bad in this world. He’s stuck in the past, and I need to look forward. If I don’t, I’ll lose myself again, which means all my yo-yoing is stupid.
“Georgie?” Sam snaps his fingers. “You all right?”
“Ye-yep,” I say.
“I hope you understand—about us, I mean.”
“Did I ever tell you why I lied about my name and wanted that internship with you?”
“No.”
“Because I was tired of being underestimated by everyone, tired of feeling weak and sad. But most of all, because I wanted to be free, and to do that, I had to fight for it—for my voice—so that I could help my family and decide my future instead of my fears deciding it for me.” I take a long breath. I have to get off the hamster wheel with this guy. I’ve been through too much, and he’s too much temptation. “I really can’t be around you anymore. I’ll finish helping prove my brother is innocent, but after that, I don’t want to see you again.”
“Georgie! Dammit!” I hear Abi off in the distance. “Come on!”
“Looks like your friend needs you. You going in?” he says, his voice barren of any emotion.
So, basically, he couldn’t care less about never seeing me again. I won’t lie, a tiny piece of me hurts—rejection is a sting everyone feels, no matter how strong—but it’s the confirmation I needed. I have to let this go.
“Yeah. I think I’d like to meet this Mitch. I hear he’s something to look at.” I wink. “More my age, yanno?”
I walk off and head into the party with Abi.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The moment we approach the front door, Mitch steps forward, past the security guard, to greet us.
“I’m sorry about the mix-up, ladies,” he says, in the most adorable Australian accent I’ve ever heard.
“I’m just happy I caught her,” Abi says. “She was trying to make a getaway.”
“Well, no one gets away from one of my parties until they’ve had some fun.” Mitch dips his head and gestures for us to enter.
We sail inside, and this time, everyone’s staring because we’re getting very special attention from the man himself. I notice there’s a mini version of him—still attractive but shorter and blonder—standing to his side. Must be his cousin because he immediately sweeps Abi away in search of cocktails for us.
“So you must be Georgie,” Mitch says.
Wow. I get a better look at those eyes, a stunning light hazel. He’s also super freaking tall, and though he’s wearing an untucked dress shirt and slacks, I can tell right away he’s a swimmer slash underwear model; his clothing swells in all the right spots. Speaking of swells… Involuntarily, I feel my eyes pulling south. After all, he’s got a very special nickname, the Bulge, and I’ve seen the swimsuit pics. Who knows when I’ll ever be this close to such a legendary dick again.
“Sam! Hey, thanks for making it, mate.” Mitch gives the old bro hug to Sam, who is now behind me.
I stand corrected. I’ll have plenty more opportunities. And isn’t Sam the least bit concerned that Abi will see him? She still thinks he’s Mr. Brooks.
“Said I’d stop by.” Sam gives Mitch a fist bump. “Welcome to the States.”
“Thanks, mate,” Mitch says. “This is a huge move.”
“I’m sure you made the right choice, Mitch,” Sam says. “And you’ve got all of us behind you.”
Mitch pats Sam’s shoulder. “Well, come on in. Bar’s that way. Food’s that way. Girls are everywhere.”
I stand there, feeling invisible at this weird bro-reunion-fest.
“Thanks,” says Sam. “I’m not staying long, but I wanted to welcome you to your new home. We’re all happy to have you swimming for us.”
I’m guessing Mitch will be training here in Houston, maybe at my university since they have a world-class swim team.
“You’re the fucking best.” Mitch gives Sam one last man-embrace and heads off to greet the other guests.
“What are you doing?” I whisper to Sam.
“Saying hi
to an old friend.”
“How do you know him?” I ask.
“Sorry. Can’t tell you that.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine. Whatever. But Abi is here, Mr. Brooks.”
“Then I guess I’ll just have to be my rude self so she stays away.”
“How about leaving?” I suggest.
“Sorry. I have a job to do. I go when you go.” Sam walks off in the other direction.
Wonderful. He plans to babysit me—just the exact opposite of what I told him I wanted out of life.
“I’m having fun tonight,” I call to the back of his head, “so don’t ruin it with your crusty old-man vibe!” I’m unsure if he hears me, but I see his spine straighten and his fist ball as he disappears into the next room.
Yeah, he heard me. I smile and go off to find Abi and her friend. It’s time to erase Sam from my thoughts and accomplish what I set out to do. Have fun.
It’s just after midnight, and I am hammered. It’s not a sloppy stumbling drunk that will shame me in the morning, but it’s the best buzz of my life. My inhibitions are gone, I’m lucid and in control, and most importantly I’m dancing on a pool table while people are pumping their fists and screaming at me. Abi is in the corner, making out with Mitch of all people, and I couldn’t be more fucking happy than I am at this very moment. Right now, I’m not shy, worried, or hiding. I don’t feel the weight of my family name, the legal battles, or my past threatening to crush me like a boulder of doom.
I raise my arms in the air and scream as the dance music pounds through my ears. The room of a hundred plus are drunk as shit, laughing and dancing, too.
“Come on, Georgie. That’s enough!” I look down and see Sam standing there like my disapproving father.
What’s he still doing here? “Get lost, geezer!”
He narrows his eyes. “Georgie, you have work to do tomorrow. The fun is over.”
I flash my middle fingers in his face. “Bite me, Agent McPartypooper!”
He shakes his head, and no one around us seems to notice a battle of wills is about to go down.
He gestures with his hands for me to get off the table before he loses his patience.
I bend over and wag my drunk-ass finger in his stern face. “You want me? Then you have to kiss me.” I stand up and throw my arms in the air. “Anyone! Anyone who wants me! Just has to kiss me!”