Chapter 24
“The Fate of Ophelia” - Taylor Swift
Maeve
I’m in the passenger seat of Pierce’s car, and we’re on the way to dinner with my parents. Before you can tell me what a terrible idea this is, I assure you, I am well aware. We’re heading into a den of vipers, and the guy seems to be genuinely looking forward to it.
I glance sideways at him, not moving my head so he doesn’t catch me staring. “You realize the stupidity of what we’re about to do, right?”
He removes one hand from the wheel and places it on my thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’ll be fine. We’ll fake it like we did at the gala.”
My eyes drop to his broad hand, which spans the entire width of my leg. “And look how well that turned out.”
He navigates in and out of traffic with the deftness of someone completely at ease with power beneath his fingertips. “Well, you’re sure as fuck not sleeping with Ansley tonight, so I’m not too worried.”
“You were the one who slept with someone else that night, not me.”
His grip tightens on the steering wheel, and I imagine what those fingers would feel like wrapped around my throat as he presses me against a wall.
“You’re not going to let that go, are you?” he says, his voice quiet.
“Probably not,” I say honestly.
I let the scent of his Aston Martin—of him—fill my nostrils, inhaling deeply only when I’m sure he’s distracted by driving.
I’ve ridden in this car plenty of times before, but somehow I missed how good it smells, how smoothly it rides, or how safe I feel with him.
Safe, but also like I’m on the brink of danger—a controlled danger.
We arrive at Kenswick House much sooner than desired—sometime in the next century would have been preferable—and my mother greets us at the door. She’s wearing a silk gown with a pastel watercolor pattern from an up-and-coming designer.
When she sees Pierce behind me on the stoop, she gasps and claps her hands together. “Pierce St. James! What a surprise.”
He has positioned himself so that he can shake the hand she extends while keeping his left one firmly planted on the small of my back. “Mrs. Wilson, it’s a pleasure. I hope you don’t mind me joining you tonight.”
“Absolutely not.” She beams at him, then looks at me for the first time.
“Although Maeve didn’t mention she was seeing anyone.
” She ushers us into the house before I can set her straight, maybe because she knows it’s too much to hope for and doesn’t want to hear it.
That’s fine. I’ll let her live with the fantasy a little longer.
While my mother fusses with getting the staff to set an extra place at the table, my father gives Pierce a hearty handshake and a slap on the back.
“I don’t know what she did to rope you in, but this is the best surprise I’ve received in a while.
” It’s as if I’ve delivered a boyfriend to him on a silver platter.
I would pay a million dollars for the floor to open and swallow me up this second. When it doesn’t, I catch the attention of a passing server and request a drink. I don’t care what it is, as long as it’s strong.
Pierce’s laugh warms my belly. “No roping needed,” he says. “I’m smitten.” He reaches for me, and I turn to find his eyes on me, a softness there I don’t often see.
Giving him a smile in return, I scoot back to his side, eager for his hands to be on me again.
They feel like armor against whatever lies ahead.
Obviously, I’m aware none of this is real, but it’s nice to imagine having it, even if just for a few moments.
Not with Pierce, of course, but someone who looks at me the way he does when he’s pretending.
We move into the dining room, and when Pierce sees that they’ve placed him across the table from me, he asks if he can sit beside me instead. My mother blushes and flutters her hands at the staff, who scramble to do her bidding.
The meal begins, and my father and Pierce quickly descend into conversation.
Pierce is smooth where I’m harsh, and my father will always prefer the diplomat to the fire wielder.
My mother doesn’t do a good job of concealing her delight at seeing the two of us together.
She’ll probably slip me a list of baby names before the night is over.
It doesn’t help that Pierce has his hand on my thigh again, splaying his fingers so they cover as much skin as possible.
It’s absolutely mortifying, their eagerness to see the two of us together.
If they were genuinely interested in my happiness, fine, but we all know that has little to no bearing on their opinion of our supposed match.
They’re thinking about how the alliance between our two families will benefit them.
While the servers clear our plates for the next course, Pierce gives my leg a reassuring squeeze, sending tingles of pleasure directly to my core. When I look over at him, he gives me a wink, as if reminding me that we’ve made it through one course already.
My mother keeps glancing at us with tiny smiles, and if my father’s grin stretches any wider, his face will split in two. By the time the fish is served, I can’t take it anymore.
“Pierce and I aren’t dating,” I announce, interrupting my father in the middle of his spiel about oil prices. I interlace my fingers with Pierce’s, hoping he knows how much I appreciate his willingness to help me out, but I can’t do this. I prefer their disappointment.
There’s a sadistic pleasure in watching their faces fall, in letting them down once again. At least this time, it’s a controlled explosion, one I’m in complete charge of.
Pierce slides his hand from my leg, and for a second, I’m terrified he’s going to leave me here with them. But then he drapes it across the back of my chair and says, “We’re getting there, though, aren’t we, babe?”
I swivel to look at him, but he picks up his wine and takes a sip, oblivious to my confusion or simply choosing to ignore it. What is he playing at?
“They stopped drilling off the southern coast,” he says, which captures my father’s attention again, and soon they’re back in the throes of money talk.
It bothers me that I don’t know what he’s up to, and I can’t exactly ask him.
His thumb strokes my bare shoulder, sending shivers down my spine.
I finish the food on my plate and lean back.
He moves his hand to my neck and rubs the muscles there, and I have to fight to keep from moaning and closing my eyes.
While continuing his conversation with my father—neither my mother nor I attempt to join in—Pierce reaches for the hand resting in my lap.
He places it on his own leg and plays with my fingers, his other hand still massaging the tight knots in my neck.
It’s the kind of touch you expect from someone you’re dating—not that I have much experience, because I prefer not to be touched—and I know he’s doing it for my parents’ sake, but what I can’t figure out is why.
Why is he trying to convince them we’re together?
“How’s HavenNet coming along?” my father asks as dessert is placed before us.
I’ve been dreading this question, but I suppose it’s better than being interrogated about my love life, or the lack thereof.
It’s directed at Pierce, since my dad doesn’t speak to women when men are available, but I discover a new reservoir of courage and decide to take the bait.
“Good. We’re looking at a fall launch, although a hard date hasn’t been set yet. ”
Annoyance crosses my father’s face, but I ignore him and tuck into the pastry before me. At least I know my mum always plans her menu with my food sensitivities in mind.
“Why not this spring?” he says, once again addressing Pierce. “We can’t wait until fall. Think of all the good it could do before then.”
What he means is “think of how many donors might drop out with a delayed launch.”
Pierce still has an arm over the back of my chair, using his right hand to spear a bite of his mille-feuille. “By waiting until fall, we’re able to rebrand and create an even stronger launch plan than we were initially going to implement.”
My dad grunts, then shovels half of his dessert into his mouth. “I thought the plan was to skip a rebrand.” His eyes flick to me, one of the first looks he’s sent my way all evening, as if he’s insinuating I’ve somehow managed to bring this entire thing down around us.
Pierce’s hand comes to rest on my shoulder, gently caressing it and stroking the wisps of hair at my neck with his thumb. “At first I thought that was the way to go, but Maeve’s plan is quite brilliant. She only had to show me a few of the things she had in mind for me to be completely on board.”
That isn’t entirely true. We spent hours going over the plans, him cutting nearly half of them before finally agreeing to a rebrand before we officially launch. But tonight I don’t care about the details. He’s helping me save face in front of my parents, and that is worth a few white lies.
I’m still not sure why he’s doing it, though. If he’s trying to make a good impression, he could have done that by joining in as they regaled me with a list of all the ways they think I’m screwing up my life.
Pushing my plate back, I recline in my chair, ready for this night to be over.
Pierce leans over and whispers in my ear, “You done?”
I don’t know if he means with my dessert or with the night, but I nod in answer to both.
He slides my plate closer to him and breaks off a bite with his fork.
My father continues questioning him about his family’s companies—why, I don’t know, but it’s embarrassing—and Pierce takes it all in stride.
He finishes the rest of my pastry in three bites, then settles back and continues his neck massage from earlier.
My father motions for the whiskey to be brought, taking great delight when Pierce approves his selection. “Karuizawa ‘The Dragon,’ aged fifty-two years,” he says, puffing his chest out as Pierce takes another sip.
“I love the smoky finish,” Pierce says, pretending to be impressed, even though I’ve seen the same bottle on his own shelf at home. He holds out his glass to me. “Want to try it?”
I take the tumbler from his hand and let a sip of the liquid hit my tongue.
“Maeve’s not a whiskey drinker,” my dad says with a laugh.
Pierce ignores him, eyes on me as I swallow. “What do you think?” he asks.
“It’s good.” I nod. “I’ll stick to cocktails, though.”
He gives me a soft smile and takes the glass back. Returning his hand to my thigh, he plays with the hem of my dress while my father drones on. His fingers slip beneath the fabric, taunting and teasing me with a preview of what’s to come after we leave here.
I suddenly want to go even more than I did before.
I’m still confused about Pierce’s intentions, but for the first time, I wonder if maybe he was just trying to make tonight bearable for me.
Maybe he just wanted me to have a reprieve after everything.
It doesn’t fit with our vibe of fucking each other while we fuck each other over, but maybe he decided to step out of character.
I don’t hate it, even if I don’t know what to do with it.
The next thirty minutes pass agonizingly slowly, and when Pierce asks softly, “Are you ready to go?”
I nearly bolt out of my seat. Instead, I nod demurely the way I’ve been trained. “Whenever you are.”
He scoots my chair back, then tucks my hand in his while thanking my parents for a wonderful evening. (That one’s a stretch.) As they walk us to the door, my mother stops me with a hand on my arm. Pierce doesn’t disentangle our fingers.
“I was just thinking,” she says, “we should do lunch some time. Maybe do some shopping?”
I give her a skeptical look. My mother and I don’t do lunch. We don’t “do” anything together. This has nothing to do with wanting to spend time with me and everything to do with her imagining she’s about to be planning the wedding of the year.
“Sure,” I say. “I’ll check my schedule.” I won’t, because the only thing worse than sitting through this dinner would be planning a wedding with my mother. A wedding to a man who is faking everything about tonight.
Pierce helps me into my coat, and when we finally step out into the cold air, I draw in several large lungfuls.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asks, wrapping an arm around my neck to tug me in close and kissing the top of my head. My parents must still be watching from the front stoop.
“You’re right. I could have been served as the suckling pig instead.”
He grins as he opens my door, stepping back so I can slide into his sleek Aston Martin. The luxurious scent of it hits me anew, and I recline into the buttery-soft seat with a sigh. Back to safety.
Pierce gets in and pulls the car onto the street, the silence between us almost blissful in contrast to what we just walked out of.
As we drive, I find myself lulled into a sense of security I’ve never experienced before.
While dinner was awful, it really was a thousand times better with Pierce there.
He was like a lifesaver in the ocean—literally the only thing keeping me from drowning.
“Thank you,” I say. “For being there tonight.”
He glances over at me, then reaches for my hand and squeezes it. “It was my pleasure.”
I stare at our entwined fingers, wondering what all of this means, if there’s more going on here than I realized. “Why did you go to such lengths?”
If he has feelings for me that are more than physical, I don’t know what I’ll do with that information. I do know that, after tonight, I don’t hate the thought. In fact, I might actually like it.
He’s quiet for so long, I think he isn’t going to answer me. When he finally does, I wish he hadn’t.
“I figured it was the best way to get you into bed tonight.”