“There were pictures?” I moaned into my fingers. How had I not noticed someone taking photos of Niko and me? I’d been so caught up in my anxiety and his mind-scrambling beauty that I’d been completely absorbed in our conversation.
“Gorgeous pictures,” Isabel said in a warm tone that was clearly meant to bolster me. “There must’ve been a paparazzi outside the restaurant. They snapped the shots through the window.”
At the time, I’d been relieved that we’d been seated at the window rather than in a dark corner. That would’ve felt a little intimidating in its intimacy. But now, I wished we’d been hidden away completely.
“But why would anyone care about my date with Niko?” I mumbled, finally lifting my face from my hands.
I remembered that Niko had mentioned his father planting the first article about us in order to pressure us into dating. Had Mikhail Ivanov been responsible for this one, too?
Davis shrugged, a wickedly delighted smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He was having far too much fun with my newfound minor celebrity. “Because you’re both beautiful and rich. And he’s Nikolai Freaking Ivanov.” He waved his hands as though to encompass the enormity of Niko’s beauty and wealth.
I took a gulp of my wine, allowing the warmth of the rich flavor to soothe my knotted insides. “I never should’ve agreed to go out with him,” I lamented. I hated public scrutiny of any kind. Taking press photos for my father’s political career was difficult enough. These images of Niko and me were invasive, prying past my carefully crafted public mask to peek at my private life.
“Don’t you like Niko?” Charlie prompted, already knowing my answer. I’d spent our first half hour together discussing the details of my date last night.
I blew out a sigh and tried my best to keep my focus on my friends. The man who’d snapped pics of me with his phone was still grinning in my direction, trying to catch my attention again. I could practically feel his eyes on me, and the white flash of his eager grin played around the edges of my awareness.
I didn’t want to encourage him, so I resolutely ignored him.
“Yeah, I like him,” I admitted.
“What’s not to like?” Davis gushed. “He’s handsome, charming, and richer than God. He offered to whisk you off on an exotic vacation on your third date, right? That’s some real romance novel stuff right there.” He shared my love of romantic comedies, and he seemed to think Niko was the perfect swoon-worthy hero.
And if I were being honest with myself, he kind of was. So why didn’t I feel totally giddy at the prospect of dating him? I shouldn’t feel slightly queasy about it. I didn’t have much experience dating, but dancing along the fine line between feminine excitement and social anxiety around Niko wasn’t exactly comfortable.
“Well, the fact that the press is involved isn’t great,” I said, trying to figure it out for myself. I should be thrilled that Niko was interested in me.
There was one very obvious reason that I couldn’t fully enjoy being with Niko, but I refused to allow myself to acknowledge it. Thinking about the ache in my chest was far too painful. If I ignored it, the dull throb receded into the background of my awareness; still twinging with every beat of my heart, but bearable.
Isabel offered me a sympathetic look, her chocolate brown eyes softening. “You don’t have to go out with him if it makes you too uncomfortable. What about that other guy? Max?”
“Ohmygod, yes!” Davis exclaimed, not noticing the way I flinched at Max’s name. It sliced into my chest like a knife. “The brooding hottie who saved you from getting flattened by an oncoming car. So romantic. Are you still seeing him?”
Charlie giggled. “You have the strangest ideas about what’s romantic.” She shook her head at him, platinum blond curls swaying around her heart-shaped face. Her baby blue eyes focused on me. “Whatever did happen to Max? You haven’t mentioned him in weeks.”
My stomach dropped. I hadn’t told them about how Max had crushed me. How could I? Everything that’d happened on that awful night was directly related to his criminal family and his insane conspiracy theory about my dad. My friends couldn’t know anything about the entire situation; not that he was a Ferrara, not that he’d been stalking me, and definitely not that I’d somehow fallen for him, despite everything that should’ve kept us apart.
“Did something happen between you two?” Isabel asked gently, immediately reading my glum mood.
My fingers twirled around my locket, automatically seeking comfort. But the warm, smooth gold only reminded me of Max’s harsh declaration that my mom had been murdered by his family. And that my dad had covered it up by setting our home on fire, destroying everything.