“I know. I just... I guess it feels good to share it, finally.” Switching her crossed ankles, she smiled at me sadly. “My mother hates Gram. Right from the start, it was like she wanted to wish him out of existence.”

“Why does he work at your company, if she hates him so much?”

“That was Dad's decision. I guess he felt guilty for hiding Gram away, ignoring him. That doesn't stop him from treating Gram like he's a living scarlet letter, though, when he's the one who fucked up.”

“That's terrible,” I said softly.

She watched me, as if trying to believe my sympathy. “Now we get to pretend to be one big, happy family. Mom despises Dad for cheating on her, but she refuses to divorce and let the world see their sham marriage for what it is. He can't leave her because he's weak. Gram just tries to stay invisible.”

“And you?”

Her eyebrows lowered. “Me? I do what they want. I always have. Taking care of what they ask me to... it's all I'm good for. Even now.”

The memory of her talking in her sleep stabbed me. That night, she'd mumbled something similar.

A life of doing what people want you to do. That was the life I'd run from. Nix had stayed.

Both of us were fucked up.

Which path is better? Running, or being a martyr?

Standing, she headed towards a trashcan. “This is all melted, I'll be right back.” The stiffness in her shoulders was obvious, even from behind.

She put up with all of that? Her and I had much more in common than I ever realized.

“Abram,” I said when she sat beside me again.

“What?”

“My name. My father still calls me it, even though I hate it, because that's the kind of man he is. He wanted me to become a grand, powerful leader of his company. But that's not me. It never could be.” My smile was cold as a corpse. “He was never good at hiding his disappointment.”

Nix furrowed her brow, and I had to wonder what was going on behind her lovely eyes. “Is that why you... do what you do?”

I didn't want her looking at me like that. I wasn't some victim, I didn't need to be psychoanalyzed.

Smiling as wide as I could, I pushed myself to my feet. “Who knows! I just wanted you to see we share the fun tradition of nick-names. Come on, let's get out of here.”

Tradition. Hah. Calling myself Abell had been about sticking it to my father, claiming something for myself. Nothing I'd done growing up had been good enough for him.

But Nix was wrong.

The final straw that led me into debauchery had been something else entirely.

That day in the hospital was a brutal memory. I never wanted to think about it again, and the only way to run from the moment where I'd finally discovered the cruelty of the world, was to bury myself in throbbing flesh and forgettable faces. I didn't want clarity, I wanted to drink and fuck.

I wanted to not care.

My talent is not giving a shit.

Except Nix had proven that wrong about me.

She was proving everything wrong about me.

As we exited the mall together, I felt her staring. I didn't dare look down at her.

I was too afraid of the pity in her eyes.

- Chapter Eight -

Nix

“Excuse me? Miss Halloway?”

I knew the man was talking to me, but I was busy gawking at the house—the mansion—that towered ahead.

White lights were draped around pillars, the entrance way, the delicately trimmed bushes... everything. It was a gorgeous home.

Who needs a place this big?

A car horn blared behind me, making me jump. “Ma'am?” the valet coughed. “People are waiting to pull up, you need to get out of the car.”

Focusing, I put my gloved hand in his, letting him help me out of the backseat. Everything smelled fresh, juniper tickling my nose. Here we are. I'd almost backed out, but in the end, my temptation had been too strong.

I wanted to see Abell again.

He'd been acting so strange when we'd left the mall. He wouldn't look at me, and when he talked, it was disconnected. He's always like that, I'd tried to tell myself. Except I knew that wasn't right.

Abell had been peeling away his falseness bit by bit around me. So why, after talking about my family, had he thrown his plastic wall back up?

Adjusting the heavy, double-buttoned coat I'd worn to avoid winter's bite, I walked unsteadily through the front door. Thick carpets stretched along the floor, the kind meant for movie stars.

The house reeked of money.

Relax. So what if the Birch's are rich, your family is wealthy, too! Don't be intimidated!

Except we didn't have this kind of wealth. We never had. This was a whole other tier, another world.

The buzz of conversation rolled over me as I entered. Freezing in the foyer, I gazed up at the pale staircase draped in green garland, a balcony with red ribbons twisting along one side. Tables covered in food sat against each wall of the room, an ice sculpture of a deer perched on one of them.

There was a crowd milling around, all of them dressed to impress. Just as I'd figured, every face belonged to a stranger. I was in the middle of a fancy Christmas party, and I knew no one.

Wonderful.

A woman in a black dress approached me with a tray of glasses. “Drinks?”

“Yes,” I said gratefully, taking the champagne flute and sipping. “I think I'll need this.”

Where's Abell? Did he not come?

What about Gram?

The party was in full swing. If making a late entry was anyone's plan, they were pushing it. Checking my phone, I felt my stomach slip lower—no missed calls. Not even a text.

Abell had exchanged numbers with me before we parted the other day. Since then, the only thing he'd texted me was an invitation to visit him if I got lonely.

I'd ignored it at the time, I knew what a booty call was.

Now, I was tempted to respond, just for an excuse to make contact.

The hairs on my neck stood tall. Suddenly, I didn't feel... alone. Turning, I caught a pair of blue eyes watching me.

They didn't belong to Abell.

Dressed in a black suit, his silvery hair shining, Corin Birch came my way with a smile. The sight of him made my mouth taste like a leaking battery. Ah, here we go.

“Miss Halloway,” he chuckled, holding out a hand. The gold watch on his wrist glinted. “May I take your coat?”

You can take my foot up your ass. Smiling politely, I shrugged out of the long coat, passing it to him. The dress I'd chosen for the evening wasn't made of mistletoe, but it was green like the plant.

Knit from soft wool, it hugged my body, showing off the curves my mother hated, while touching my knees to keep it classy.

I'd thrown my hair up in a braid that was wrapped high on my neck, the air brushing my bare collar bone. Dressing to fit the situation was something my parents had ingrained in me.

Corin looked me over slowly. The appreciation in his eyes had my dinner tickling the back of my throat. “You look lovely. Your mother and you are so similar.”

Laughing, I sipped my champagne. “Don't let her hear you say that, she'll be furious.”

“I've seen her angry side enough times to not be afraid of it.”

Curiosity chimed in my skull, louder than a grandfather clock. “She never told me that she knew you. I mean, knew you knew you, enough to get a personal loan... and to set up this whole marriage contract.” I spit the last sentence out, wishing I could crush it under my heel.

He must have sensed my growing disgust; I wasn't really hiding it. “Even after our meeting together, she's still told you nothing.”

“Not a thing. Why don't you enlighten me?”

The corners of his eyes crinkled up. “I think not. Here's a question for you, how are you and my son getting along?”