“Bullshit,” I spat. “That’s not what we agreed.”
“The terms just changed. Call it an early repayment fee.”
Nate tsked but started counting out twenty one-hundred-dollar bills. “There.” He shoved it at Leo. “Consider your arrangement with Zane over.”
He studied Nate for a second before checking the cash. “You should give me a call sometime, kid. I could make good use of your deep pockets.”
Nate tensed. “Nah, I’m good, thanks. But you should probably forget this ever happened. My money’s good with other people too,” he said coolly. Calmly. Like he walked in this world all the time. “People who probably don’t like people like you.”
Leo narrowed his gaze for a moment and my heart jumped into my fucking throat. But then he said, “It was a pleasure doing business with you.” He saluted us with the wad of cash and climbed in his car.
“Fuck, that was intense,” Nate loosened a breath, his shoulders sagging with relief.
I waited for the car to disappear down the dirt road before I replied, “I can’t believe you just did that.” Disbelief coated my words.
“You owe me, Washington.” He winked, heading back into the trailer like he hadn’t just saved my ass ten times over.
Celeste
“Celeste,Sabrina, so glad you could make it,” Mrs. Sinclair greeted us with air kisses and shoulder squeezes.
I played the part of the dutiful daughter, smiling in all the right places and giving polite answers when spoken to. But inside, I was a simmering volcano on the verge of exploding.
It was all Mom’s fault.
She’d poisoned Harleigh against me. And in turn, my friends—Harleigh’s friends—had started to keep me at arm’s length.
I’d always known I was different to the woman who had raised me. I had a kind soul. Gentle and open. I didn’t look at someone and judge them on their station in life or how I could use them to my own ends. But I had never spent too much time worrying about it because I’d been raised to play a role. To fit my parents’ expectations for me. And I’d played it well. I’d been complicit in it.
Well, screw that.
I wasn’t a puppet. I was a young girl with feelings and dreams and aspirations of her own. Harleigh had taught me it was okay to stand up for what you believed in, to go after what you wanted. She’d been offered a place in our world, and she’d given it all up for the boy she loved. But it was more than that. She’d given it up because accepting her place in our family meant giving up a piece of her soul—of who she was. And she hadn’t been prepared to compromise on that.
Harleigh had given me a glimpse of what life could be outside the confines of rules and expectations. A world where I could be anything. Love anyone. Mom would never accept Zane. Just as she would never truly accept Harleigh and Nix. But I’d been prepared to choose him anyway. And even though he didn’t want me—even though he didn’t think I was worth it—I didn’t regret a single moment of it.
So standing here, with Mrs. Sinclair and my mother and Cooper, smiling and playing the role I’d played so many times before, killed a little part of me. But I’d do it because this was different.
This was a means to an end.
I just needed to buy some time to figure out a few things before I confronted her.
“Cooper, you look positively dashing.” Mom grabbed his shoulders and kissed both of his cheeks. He shot me a cocky grin; one I didn’t return. Because I had a line I would not cross and letting Cooper Sinclair believe he stood a chance with me, was on the other side.
“Thanks, Mrs. Delacorte.”
“Oh sweetie, please, call me Sabrina.”
“So, I’ve got us set up in one of our smaller meeting rooms. The reporter wants to go over a few things and then he’ll have us join Claudia’s group for some candid shots. We want to keep things as natural as possible.”
All while name dropping my mom no doubt. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
It was good publicity, I knew that. But I couldn’t help but think they were going about it all the wrong way. A fundraiser would have been more inclusive and less tacky. A silent auction with some big donors or a charity ball to raise the profile of the various projects the center delivered. Real stories and real people. Not some stuffy press release with me, Mom, and Cooper smiling stiffly at the camera.
“You might want to try smiling,” Cooper whispered to me as Mrs. Sinclair led my mom down the hall.
“Don’t you think it would be more beneficial to do something real and meaningful,” I said. “This feels so… staged and fake.”
“Come on, Celeste. Don’t tell me you’re one of those social justice warrior types.”