Stay Toxic

Chapter 15

Iknow wealthy. I am wealthy. But it turns out, I don’t know all-out, splashed over the cover of every magazine in the West Coast, show off Thorn Falls wealthy.

The Goltz mansion is more of a palace than a house, and they have an honest-to-god red carpet leading up the stairs, paparazzi going crazy on either side of the landing to catch a glimpse of some of the more famous guests.

I know why within seconds. Mother made a point of shoving pictures at me so I’d know some of the more obscure yet influential faces in the country on sight. I can recognize half of the people around me in a glance, from everything from pop charts, blockbuster movies, to catwalks, but there also are famous authors, scientists, financial titans and genuine royalty.

Honestly, I might be a Cole but the senator made sure I was sheltered most of my life. Part of it might have been for her own reasons, but she very rarely allowed me to frequent my extended family in New York City, and when I am allowed to see my brother, it’s always in private. No one knows who I am. Mother claims it’s for my safety. I actually used to believe it in my youth, and back then, it could very well have been true. But I lost that delusion somewhere in the back of a dark kitchen cupboard. If she cares about my safety, it’s only about keeping me alive long enough for her to get her claws into my share of the family fortune.

“Shall we?” Sebastian says, offering me his arm at the bottom of the steps.

I note Ari barged ahead to catch up with Calla Beaufort.

I wouldn’t have thought these two got along, but of course, Ari could charm the socks off just about anyone.

“Oh, I—” I glance at the photographers.

He doesn’t miss my apprehension. “They’ll have bigger fish to fry tonight.”

Well, he’s right about that.

I let him guide me up the white marble and into the most intimidating hall I’ve ever entered. Clearly, these people don’t want anyone to feel too comfortable in their space.

“I would blame Auntie M’s husband for the whole dramatic thing—his family’s descended from imperial Russian royalty, and let’s just say, they have a fair bit of…flair. But in truth, the house was clearly designed to my aunt’s taste. She loves Greco-Roman antiques.”

“Right. That explains the columns.” At least, I think it explains them. “And statues. And the general feeling of inadequacy from being a mere mortal in a temple to the gods.”

I’m rewarded for actually managing to string a whole sentence together by a smirk. “I’d say you get used to it, but that would be a lie. My aunt and uncle bought the old Rothford house and had it all destroyed and remodeled into this, what, ten years ago? I still shudder every time I walk in here. I love antique culture and aesthetics as general rule too but I couldn’t imagine living in a place quite so much like the Pantheon.”

“Is your house that imposing?” I ask, making him snort now.

“Oh, I think not. I mean, even the Goltzes used to live in an almost-reasonably sized place until they built this…statement.” He might make fun of his family, but he’s clearly very fond of them, from the way he smiles. “Anyway, my family is actually nouveau riche. I know, I know. A crime. We’re part owners of Flawless, and our fortune is in the eight figures, which would barely pay for the flooring of this place.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s more money than most people see in their entire lives. No one needs more.”

“Agreed. I intend to remain highly comfortable yet non-edible the moment the populace inevitably decides to eat the rich. While you, on the other end, are undeniably a snack. Ah, this way.” His hand slides to my naked back, which causes an embarrassing chain reaction, first affecting my brain, then my entire skin, and finally prompting an awareness deep in my core, burning, yearning.

I’m still churning from the simple contact when he stops us in front of the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

“Auntie M.”

“My boy,” the gorgeous woman in a one shoulder, black Grecian dress coos, wrapping an arm around his back and kissing his cheek. “And you must be Hestia.”

Manners, drilled into me from birth, allow me to smile, shake her hand and say, “Tia, please.”

“Then you must call me Marcella. I was so excited to hear Aurelius was bringing a lady with him. Does that mean you won’t disappear after posing for photos for half an hour this time?” she chides him, lifting an eyebrow.

I lose sight of everything around me all over again, because even in its current state, my brain finally fires answers that should have been obvious at me.

Aurelius.

Aurelius.

How many fucking Aureliuses could there be in a damn university campus?

“What’s that pretentious first name, then?”I asked him the day we met, after he asked to be called by his middle name.

I remember his answer.

“I don’t think we’re at that level of acquaintance yet, Hestia. Let’s just say I’m considering suing my father over it.”

I want to scream. I want to break something. But I’m in a middle of an introduction to a perfectly lovely woman who compliments my hair and my dress and loves her necklace around my neck, so instead, I pretend to be a civilized human.

“Ah, here’s my husband. Darling, you must meet Tia,” she says to the man joining her, staring at her like there’s nothing else in the entire world.

He’s…hot. Which is disturbing. Men in their late forties or early fifties aren’t supposed to be this panty-melting. But it would make sense that he would be with someone as perfect as Marcella.

“Tia, was it?” The tall, dark and dangerous man offers me his hand. “Eriks Goltz.”

I shake it, my palm feeling a little too clammy as his cold eyes take me in. For the first time in my life, I do the opposite of my usual move, and give him my full name. “Hestia.”

“Ah.” He glances between his wife’s nephew and me. “Well, you’ll fit right in with the Kellers, then,” he teases, his tone conspiratorial.

“Speaking of, have you seen Mom and Dad? They haven’t met Tia yet, and I figured I should get the introductions out of the way before the auction.”

I would wonder about the auction thing if I wasn’t still shocked by the fact that he’s fucking Aurelius.

“I saw Augustus and Mina by the champagne fountain, which is exactly where you should be, young man. Your lady doesn’t have a drink.”

“Yes, sir,” Sebastian—excuse me, Aurelius—retorts with a mock salute that doesn’t entirely feel inappropriate.

He leads me across the marble floor and the moment we’re out of hearing range, I hiss, “You’re Aurelius.”

“Of course I’m Aurelius,” he retorts easily, with an amused smirk and a roll of his eyes, like it’s the most logical thing in the fucking world.

I stomp on his foot.

Discreetly.

“I would have thought it was bloody obvious, pervert. You certainly were.”

I try to get his foot again, but he moves it out of the way smoothly. “Behave.”

“You…” I flush, remembering our conversation from today.

Oh, god.

He knows. He knows I fucking like him.

I want to hide. I want the earth to open up in two and swallow me whole. Dropping dead would be a personal favor.

“Well, it wasn’t obvious,” I manage to grumble, suddenly fascinated by my cuticles.

“My cousins all have pretentious Greco-Roman names, and I’m one of the only people you’ve been hanging out with since arriving here. Who else could have recognized you from a few messages?” He shrugs. “Plus, if you were that curious, you could have asked. I literally gave you my name. A very distinctive one. Anyone would have told you it was me.”

Yeah, well…I didn’t want to ask.

“Just like you could have asked me if I was seeing Ari, I suppose. I’m not, by the way. Seeing here, that is.”

Oh, god. He’s going there. By chance, we’ve reached the champagne, and there’s a blond man, almost as handsome as Mr. Goltz, but with Aurelius’s bright blue eyes, and his eyes, and his general built. He stands next to a petite brunette whose hair is streaked with pink, to my surprise.

I honestly have never seen a woman in her forties with hair colored anything but a natural shade at galas like these. With a glance across the room, I note that this crowd isn’t the conservative type Mother would have invited. There are more colors, in every way: skin, hair, dresses, and also considerably more laughter and smiles that feel genuine, warm.

These people like each other and want to be here.

“Mom, Dad, this will be my girlfriend when she stops running. She goes by Tia, because her parents are as inconsiderate as you.”

I freeze.

He doesn’t mean that. He just doesn’t. Right? We’ve only been flirting. And there’s Ari.

Who he just told you he wasn’t seeing, remember?

But…he doesn’t like me, does he? I mean, I’m just me. Not thin or pretty or social enough for my own mother, so boring my boyfriend replaced me with a prettier blonde, generally happier around people than books.

And Sebastian is…everything. Charming, charismatic, popular, fucking gorgeous.

This makes no sense.

Given my history, my mind supplies he must be after the fortune I’m supposed to inherit in three years, except he’s here, in this damn palace right now, surrounded by more love and luxuries than I’ve ever known. I have a choker around my throat worth a fucking fortune that belongs to his family. He doesn’t need my money, even if I have a fair deal more than him. And I don’t even get the feelings he wants it.

Back to the simple fact that this makes no fucking sense.

The Kellers are still talking while I’m having my existential crisis.

Augustus rolls his eyes, looking remarkably like his son. “If I survived a three-syllable name, so will you. It’s a pleasure, Tia.”

“Hestia, Mina and Augustus Keller, the disgustingly lovely couple I warned you about.”

And I can tell he was honest. They’re warm, and enchanting. Mina takes my hands and smiles like we’ve known each other for years.

She leans in and whispers, “As someone once pursued by a Keller, let me warn you: it’s not worth running.”

She winks and hands me a crystal flute filled with bubbly.

I choke on a laugh as both parents move to the center of the room, to twirl at the sound of the low, slow instrumental music.

They’re just…unbelievable. This whole place feels like a damn fairy tale, so fucking far from my reality.

“Come on, pervert. Let’s dance.”