11. Hold My Earrings
11
Hold My Earrings
LEIGHTON
“Merde!” I swore when I spotted that familiar tiny dancer beside her too-handsome daddy Friday night.
Bemused hazel-blues snapped to my face, excitement glittering under the fluorescent lights. I was pretty sure it was some kind of unspoken law that auditorium buildings had to be lit with the worst possible lighting everywhere except the stage.
“You know merde ?” she chirped, and if I wasn’t kidding myself, I’d just won a brownie point or two.
“I was a sassy ballerina not that long ago,” I said, fishing my camera out of my bag. “Okay, maybe a lifetime ago for you, but it doesn’t feel very long to me .” Plus, Ollie was the quintessential young, rich girl-dad, so naturally, if they were gonna swear, they’d do it in French.
“Were you ever a snowflake?”
“Nope,” I said, smirking as she immediately posed for a photo. “Never mastered the footwork for that one. Made a pretty decent mouse and a very enthusiastic angel—right up until they kicked me out of school.”
Those big blue eyes widened. “You got kicked out? ” she asked, scandalized.
I nodded solemnly. “Don’t ever punch a fellow ballerina. That’s what crazy friends are for.” I winked, and Ollie cleared his throat—an amused attempt at reproach that made me grin wider.
“Oh! Ollie! Didn’t see you there,” I said, earning a belly laugh from Beau and a little giggle from Tillie. “I was too swept up looking at the prettiest snowflake there’s ever been!”
“I’m not the prettiest,” she argued.
“Psh, yes you are.”
“It’s true. And I’ve seen them all,” Ollie said, jutting his chin forward in a way that made me turn—and, yep, there were Grey and Alice strolling into the lobby.
“Remember, you have fifteen minutes between sets, so catch your breath and hurry to change?—”
“But don’t rush, because I’ve got time,” she recited before bumping my fist.
I pointed behind her, and she squealed, flinging herself into her uncle’s arms. The man was supposedly heartless—a spectacular irony Alice had exploited as his assistant—but fuck me, if he didn’t turn to mush around these kids.
They were so damn cute I couldn’t help it—I snapped a photo, earning an irritated flick of Greyson’s hazel eyes when the flash fired.
“Uncle Grey! You came!”
“Wouldn’t miss it, kiddo.”
“Still,” she said with a little shrug. “There are more nights. I didn’t know if you’d make it. I know you’re busy.”
Alice and I exchanged a knowing look, both of us shaking our heads. What ten-year-old accounted for business obligations? One raised inside an empire, apparently. Ollie positioned himself between me and Tillie, casually enough to be subtle, but not enough that I didn’t notice. He and Greyson had been weird ever since the accident—an observation that did not help with my increasing paranoia.
“Mattie, I am so stinking proud of you. You know you earned this, right?” Alice said, already halfway to emotional putty.
I snorted. “It’s true,” I agreed. “You earned your place on that stage, sweet girl. I’m so freaking proud of how hard you’ve been working.”
She nodded excitedly, leaning into her dad, totally ignoring Beau, who was practically breakdancing as he swayed from one side to the other, hanging off Ollie’s arm.
“Is Carly coming?” she asked, blinking up at Ollie—and oof, my heart didn’t stand a chance.
“I’m not sure, sport, but I’ll video it either way.”
Tillie nodded, but I swear I felt her little belly sink from where I stood.
“You look so beautiful, sweet pea!” I crooned. Alice nodded enthusiastically beside me.
“Do you feel good about your routine?”
Smile back in place, she bobbed her head. “Yep! I had them both memorized weeks ago. I even helped Lizzy at rehearsal last week.”
“Thatta’ girl!” Greyson held out his hand for a high five, and she was quick to jump for it, her enthusiasm contagious.
A garbled announcement came over the speakers—sounded like Charlie Brown’s teacher on a loudspeaker—and I didn’t catch a word of it. Meanwhile, the lobby began to clear, families filtering into the auditorium or walking their dancers toward what I assumed were the staging rooms.
“You look breathtaking, Trouble.”
Ollie’s voice was low, too close to my ear, and just like that, my skin erupted in goosebumps.
Beaming, I gave a ridiculous little curtsey. “Thanks, handsome. You’re looking quite dapper.”
Of course, he was. Gorgeous, as always. Navy suit, crisp white shirt, and a kitschy silver snowflake tie that made me grin. Only Ollie would match his daughter for a ballet recital. I had an amazing dad, but not even Milo rocked anything ‘feminine’ like that.
“I like your snowflakes.”
“Thanks, me too. Tillie picked it— ouch .” His sentence broke off as a tiny fist nailed his stomach.
“Daddy! That’s Leighton’s nickname.”
He rubbed his abs dramatically. “It’s catchy.”
“ Stop ,” she groaned, rolling her eyes like she was personally burdened by all of us.
“My bad,” he said, smirking. “We better get you backstage, Matilda .”
“Ugh. You’re the worst sometimes.”
“Oh, I know,” he said, his eyes landing on me in a way that made my blood heat. He stoked the flames when his hand landed on my bare shoulder blades. This dress did me so many favors, it was mind boggling.
It was a goddamn masterpiece. Christmas red, lacy, classy as hell—with a delicate button at my nape and a sexy open back that dipped just to mid-spine. It fit like it had been cut for me.
I loved it. Loved it more, now that I knew what it felt like to have Ollie’s hands on me while I wore it.
I was still internally spiraling when a square of sunlight flashed across the far wall as someone threw open one of the glass doors with dramatic flair.
I turned, spotting a woman in a shimmering silver bodycon dress—the expensive kind that somehow screamed both taste and money. Great body. Red Birkin bag. Manicured coffin nails. Gorgeous.
And then I saw the dyed black hair with a halo of white framing her face.
Ollie went stiff beside me, his hand sliding instinctively into Mattie’s.
Fuck me . Of course she was stunning.
“Wow, the whole family is here,” she cooed, tossing her hair over her shoulder like she was on stage, wearing chintzy bug-eyed glasses that absolutely did not belong indoors. “How wonderful to see everyone,” she purred, sliding the glasses down with a dramatic flick and reaching into her bag for the case.
“It’s giving Gloria Swanson,” I muttered under my breath, only for Ollie to hear.
His lips twitched, eyes glinting sideways. “ Sunset Boulevard ?”
“Precisely.” But my snarky evaluation cut off the second she closed the distance.
“Mommy!” Beau squealed, wriggling like a happy little worm. Ollie’s hand locked around him tighter, knuckles whitening like he was keeping his son from walking straight into a predator’s jaws. My eyes landed on Tillie, who straightened her tutu with meticulous care—like she was bracing for an evaluation.
“Hello, babies,” Carly trilled—but didn’t bother to look at either of them. Nope. Cruella’s eyes zeroed in on me first, then scraped over Ollie like he was something she owned. Her nostrils flared when she caught sight of his hand slipping from my back.
And just like that, she snapped her full attention to my face like she’d just ID’d a threat.
No wonder she’d terrified so many nannies straight out of a paycheck.
Goddammit, she had Tillie’s eyes. Same shape, same ocean-blue hue—but Carly’s were cold, dissecting. Tillie’s held wonder. Hers held ice.
With a too-white smile stretching across her surgically flawless face, she leaned forward and offered her hand like we were brunching in the Hamptons. “You must be Leighton!”
“In the flesh,” I said, giving her a firm shake and resisting the urge to shatter something in her palm.
“Pleasure.”
“I’m sure.” I retracted my hand like it was radioactive, catching Greyson rolling his lips against his teeth beside me. Carly blinked, clearly unprepared for anyone not falling for her charm offensive.
“Well,” she began again, voice syrupy. “I have to say, it’s just so sweet of you to be so involved in Matilda’s life after hours. I imagine you must miss having a life of your own.”
I curled an arm protectively around Tillie’s tiny shoulders, flashing her a grin. “This girl brings more joy than she could possibly know. Honestly? I thank Ollie all the time for bringing such a beautiful blessing into the world.”
“Yes, well,” Carly sniffed, “it’s miraculous what we’ll do for a paycheck, isn’t it?”
My jaw clenched so tight it crackled. I pictured how satisfying it would be to backhand that smug little smirk right off her face.
“Actually,” I said tightly, “her performances were the highlight of my year. Built-in ballet chauffeur, remember? Part of the gig.”
“How… quaint,” she drawled, like the word offended her sensibilities. “Must be a small town thing.”
“Nice of you to make an appearance,” Greyson cut in, all venom, no camouflage.
“Well, of course . I never miss an opportunity to visit the theater.”
Not ‘to see my children,’ I noted silently. Was she abducted by aliens before the last three performances?
I looked down at Tillie, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze. “You ready? I can walk you back.”
“How kind of you to offer, Leighton. I loathe how many people they pack into these places, and the dancers’ rooms are always awful. It’s like stepping into a middle school gym during an assembly.”
“I think it’s exciting,” I said, watching Tillie’s eyes drop to the floor like the comment had doused her light.
“It is nice to be young.”
“You’re awfully spiffed up for an event in a gymnasium ,” Greyson observed, voice flat as stone as he took a step back.
I slipped my camera into my bag, hands itching to be free.
“Oh, I’ll take any excuse to wear couture, Grey, darling.” Carly gave him a little twirl. “Isn’t this dress just gorgeous? I thought it fit the Nutcracker theme beautifully. Don’t you?”
She batted her lashes at Greyson. Bold of her. Stupid, too. Alice looked one word away from knocking her out.
“It sparkles like my costume,” Tillie said shyly, cheeks flushing as she looked up.
“Almost!” Carly chirped, crouching in front of her. “Someday I’ll take you to Jeremy. He’ll get you into something that hides that tubby tummy. Good designers work miracles.”
My mouth fell open. I actually gasped.
What . The actual. Fuck.
And then she had the audacity— the gall —to run a hand over Tillie’s bright red face. “My, how I’ve missed those sweet chubby cheeks. What role did you land this year? Another little mouse?”
Tillie looked down at her silver leotard and ornate tutu, smoothing the fabric with trembling fingers, chewing her bottom lip like it was the only thing holding her together.
“Oh, she’s always struggled to articulate herself,” Carly tossed over her shoulder to Alice like they were girlfriends at lunch. Alice straightened so fast it was a miracle her spine didn’t crack. She glared at Ollie like he could magic this viper out of the building.
I slid my hand into Tillie’s and pulled her gently a step behind me.
“Carly, enough ,” Ollie snapped. His voice was tight, controlled—but barely.
“She’s perfectly articulate when she’s comfortable with someone,” I bit out.
“Mattie was selected for two performances this year,” Ollie continued proudly, nudging her shoulder with his elbow. “She’s dancing as a snowflake and as an angel in ‘Sugarplum.’”
The little one smiled up at him like he’d hung the moon.
“My, an angel and a snowflake!” Carly announced, loud enough to draw eyes. “Are they just handing out participation trophies this year?”
Ollie tensed. I could see him fighting to stay grounded. Meanwhile, I was praying for one last straggler to clear the lobby so I could unleash myself like the avenging angel this kid deserved.
What in the fuck had Ollie ever seen in this woman?
“She’s worked her ass off this year,” I snapped before he could speak.
“Sure.” Carly waved me off like I was an annoying puff of air. “But let’s be honest—she’s never been a natural. Everyone has their strengths. Grace just isn’t hers. Must get that from her father.”
Tillie’s hand tightened around mine, and Ollie and I both stepped forward at the same time.
“Carly,” he growled, voice like smoke and ruin, “ enough .”
But I wasn’t finished. “Please tell me I’m being Punk’d and you’re not actually standing here in your disco-ball fabric with the audacity to belittle your own daughter minutes before she steps on stage.”
Carly blinked at me, scandalized. Her hand fluttered to her chest like I’d just accused her of murder. “Oh, sweetie, I’m just being honest. Critique is part of being a performer. Matilda understands that.” Then, lower—like she thought whispering made it less venomous—she added, “Not all of us are meant to be soloists. But if we get her into a more prestigious school, I’m sure she’ll make a lovely ensamble dancer.”
I dropped Tillie’s clammy hand, ready to knock her veneers into the next tax bracket—except Ollie caught my wrist.
I turned, seething, but one look at his pleading eyes—and then at Tillie’s glassy ones—and I knew I couldn’t swing.
Not yet.
Instead, I slapped on a smile so bright it hurt. “Let’s get you backstage,” I said softly, already moving. She nodded without speaking, hand sliding into mine as I led her away.
Alice appeared beside me like a vengeful storm cloud with Beau on her hip, red creeping up her neck.
Behind us, Ollie’s voice cut through the air like a whip. “What the hell is wrong with you? That little girl has poured everything into this. Embarrassing yourself I can tolerate. But who says that shit to a ten-year-old?”
Oh. So he’d reached his limit. Finally .
“Keep your voice down,” Carly snapped, like he was the one who’d lost the plot.
But I wasn’t listening anymore. My mind was spinning. How could anyone be so fucking cruel to their own kid?
How had nobody put that bitch in concrete yet?
Honestly, this was why duels should still be legal. Fastest draw wins, justice served.
But I didn’t need revenge. Not now. I needed to help this little girl feel strong, loved, and seen —before she stepped into that spotlight.
She didn’t need to know Carly was a dumpster fire in haute couture.
She just needed to believe that we believed in her more than Carly ever could.
I was shaking, so I skipped a few steps ahead and flung open the door to her designated suite, stepping into pure chaos and a familiar cloud of glitter and hairspray. The backstage room was packed—kids on tiptoe, stretching, giggling, pirouetting into each other. Chaos. Beautiful, jittery chaos.
Like we’d choreographed it, Alice marched ahead, clearing a path to the corner where the other snowflakes were warming up. A few blushed, others beamed. Some were definitely one wrong twirl from vomiting in a satin slipper. The energy in the room buzzed under my skin, matching the tremble still working through my hands.
Alice turned sharply, blocking Tillie’s view of the rest of the room as I crouched down beside her.
“Okay, my badass ballerina.”
That earned me a tiny, wobbly giggle. Good. Still reachable.
“Look at me,” I said gently, tilting her chin up with two fingers. “Can I tell you the truth? Like, real truth?”
Her lashes fluttered, and for a second I thought she might shut down again. But then she nodded, soft and shy.
I grinned, aware that Alice was doing the same behind me.
“You, Matilda freaking Hart, are a legend. That stage out there? It belongs to you. I have five sisters, so I don’t say this lightly—but you were made for this. That floor, those lights, the glitter rain? They’re lucky to have you stomping your sparkly little feet all over them.”
I tapped her nose. Her throat bobbed, but she was still with me. Still listening.
“No wonder your heart hides sometimes. You’ve been trying to grow in the shadow of a woman who couldn’t spot gold if it slapped her across the face. But you? You’re gold. Pure and bright and strong.”
I swallowed, forcing my rage into something useful.
“You’ve earned this, Mattie. Every practice, every blister, every night you dragged your little self home and did it again the next day. You didn’t get here because your last name is Hart. You got here because you worked your cute little ass?—”
“ Leighton ,” Alice hissed behind me.
“— behind, ” I corrected, because I was nothing if not respectful of the peanut gallery. “You worked your behind off. So when you walk on that stage tonight, you hold your chin high and remind them exactly why they picked you.”
Her lip wobbled, and I swear to God, I was gonna rip Carly’s extensions out by the root and donate them to a charity that deserved them.
“What if I mess up?” she whispered.
“Then you keep on dancing,” Alice said, joining me in the crouch.
“You know why?” I leaned in, conspiratorial, my voice low and fierce.
“Why?” Her smile flickered at the edges.
“Confidence makes everything look intentional.”
“What?”
“No, seriously,” Alice added. “I faked my way through my entire first year working for your daddy and Uncle Grey.”
“You could freestyle the Macarena mid-snowflake number and as long as you owned it? The audience would lose their minds.”
“Only the other ballerinas would know, and even the very best of them would be so stinking proud of you for staying in the moment and catching up once you could.”
“We are all rooting for you,” I promised. “They’re not watching for mistakes, sweet pea. They’re watching to be dazzled.”
“They’re watching you ,” Alice added, booping her nose.
“They want magic,” I said. “And lucky for them, you’re made of it.”
She exhaled, eyes brighter now, the pink high on her cheeks finally something earned , not something shamed.
I stood, my legs thanking me for returning the circulation as I leaned in and kissed her forehead. “You can do this dance blindfolded, sweet pea. Go show them what you got.”
“Go, Mattie!” Beau hollered from Alice’s hip.
And just like that, she smiled.
Oliver
“You keep trying to spin this like you’re somehow a victim, but the only person hurting right now is Matilda. As far as I’m concerned, my brother should’ve filed a protection order years ago.”
I might’ve spent the last three months mad at the man, but goddamn, did Greyson keep a poker face well. From a distance, you’d have no idea he was plotting how to destroy the nightmare I’d saddled us with because a grieving twenty-one-year-old me couldn’t keep his dick in his pants once the alcohol came out.
“What was the point in coming tonight, huh?” I pressed. “Did you literally just show up to shit on her parade?”
“How dare you,” she gasped, like I’d slapped her.
Admittedly, I wanted to. Didn’t. If for no other reason than the legal repercussions.
“I have every right to be here to support my daughter.”
“You have no right to tear down our daughter like she’s your competition.”
“You’re being absurd,” she snapped. “She was fine! She knows I was just joking around.”
“She’s ten !” Leighton’s razor-edged voice rang down the hallway, and we all turned as she stormed toward us—more warrior than model, even in three-inch heels.
“It’s funny you think you get to weigh in as the help,” Carly purred, saccharine sweet, when Leighton stepped directly into our huddle. Carly batted her lashes, still putting on a show for any lingering stragglers. Leighton, however, didn’t give a shit about pretense. She stepped right into Carly’s space, chin high, shoulders back, glaring down her nose at her.
“You know what’s funny ? You act like some prize—like your kids should be grateful for the scraps you bother to throw their way. But let’s be real, Mattie has been carrying your dead fucking weight her entire life. You show up here and play prima donna mama hoping she’ll love you anyway, or to win favor from the guys, but the moment you feel threatened, you crush her. And for what? To punish Ollie for a mistake he made when he was twenty-fucking-two?”
“Excuse me?” Carly straightened, composure cracking.
“You don’t get to play stupid, you dumb bitch.” Leighton’s vulgarity had both Greyson and me laughing into our hands, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the woman in red as she stalked forward, looking more likely to swing on Carly than keep talking. “Not after that performance. Not after planting insecurity in a little girl who does everything we ask of her just to make everyone happy. Girls die over body image bullshit—and who the hell are you to talk, Cruella ? Matilda is ten. And somehow, she’s already ten times the woman you will ever be.”
Carly’s eyes darted around before landing back on the one person in the room who didn’t care about appearances. Her throat bobbed.
“Spare the lecture, Leighton. You’re just the nanny— for now . You’re not her mother. Now, let the grown-ups talk.”
“No, I’m not her mother. But if I could step into that role, I would in a heartbeat,” Leighton said, her smile sharp and cold as Carly’s face went pale. “Because I’d make damn sure she never had to wonder if she was good enough. That’s what a mother does. She builds her children up. She makes sure they know they can conquer anything.”
I could feel the eyes on us. Was I a little terrified this would end up on a blog or in a tabloid? Sure. But as Carly’s face flushed and she shrank in on herself, I decided the time for propriety had ended. Alice might have to clean this up, calling in favors with the media outlets who owed her—or owed us—but I had a feeling she’d understand.
Should it have been arousing?
Absolutely not.
Was it satisfying? Watching the woman who’d terrorized my life look small for once?
Absolutely.
Carly looked at me like I should step in, but I just chuckled and raised my hands in the universal sign for “you’re on your own.”
“Awe, look at you. Reaching for the big Hart men because, just like everything else in your life, you don’t even have the dignity to stand your own ground.” Leighton shot me a glance before returning her daggers to my ex. When she opened her mouth, the mocking tone had saturated into a baby voice, her lips sticking out as she pouted, “And he just leaves you hanging, after you orchestrated your plans so perfectly.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” Carly hissed, her natural tenor replacing the performative bullshit she’d waltzed in here with.
“Don’t I?” Leighton growled. “Got yourself a baby to lock him down? A ring on your finger? The only thing you were too dense to consider was that Harts don’t settle for bullshit .”
“Were you raised in a barn? For pity’s sake, lower your voice.”
I was fairly sure I’d never seen her face that particular shade of mottled lobster—but it suited her.
“Why?” Leighton barked, raising her voice instead, flinging an arm toward the people filing in. “Afraid someone might see you? Judge you? Afraid they’ll realize if you put half this much effort into being a mother, you wouldn’t have to work so hard to look like one?”
“If you don’t shut your mouth, I’ll?—”
“ What? ” Leighton snarled, fists clenched at her sides.
That was my cue. I looped my arm around her waist and hauled her back to me.
“Finish the sentence. I fucking dare you.”
Huffing dramatically, Carly straightened her tacky dress. “Well. I never —and in civilized society—this is what you’ve lowered our family to, Oliver? This is pathetic.” She waved a hand at Leighton. “I don’t have time for this.”
“Of course you don’t,” Leighton spat as I pulled her back. Carly turned to leave, but Leigh wasn’t finished. “I’ve met single-celled organisms with more integrity. We’d all be better off if your mother knew how to swallow.”
Greyson chuckled, a genuine smile directed at the woman clinging to my arm like she was going to rip it off her waist. “That’ll do, Leigh. That’ll do.”
Leighton laughed, watching Carly’s rapid retreat before she finally relaxed into my chest, her hand fluttering over her sternum. “I thought you were exaggerating.”
“I never exaggerate when dealing with the devil,” Greyson muttered.
“Oooh, how is she breathing?”
“Unfortunate societal expectations,” he drawled.
“She’s not worth the prison time,” I promised.
“If I knew I could get away with it, I’d put her six feet under. How dare she plant that kind of insecurity in Tillie? That little girl is so fucking beautiful, and smart , and kind , and generous. And even if she did have a belly, who gives a flying fuck. What a cunt.”
“Knew I liked you,” Grey muttered as I turned Leighton in my arms.
“You okay?”
“If by ‘okay’ you mean ‘trying to plan a homicide,’ then yeah. I’m okay.”
I laughed, pressing my lips to her forehead—and when she sucked down a breath, it was like she stole it straight from my lungs. “That was quite possibly the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“You’re full of shit.”
“No way. I like when you bring out your claws.”
“Why do you let her anywhere near them?”
“Court order. Holidays and visitation. Grey and I filed for a revision and a restraining order after Thanksgiving. If you’re willing to write a letter to the judge, it might help to add this incident to the record.”
“How could she possibly say something like that to her own daughter?”
“Jealousy?” I offered. But even I wasn’t sure.
I cradled her face. She closed her eyes, hands landing on my wrists—and when I glanced at Greyson, he gave us a beat of privacy.
“Told you my money was on you,” I murmured.
She huffed a laugh.
“Leigh!” Alice’s voice rang from the stairwell. We both turned to see her and Grey with Beau, who was still blissfully unaware. God, I loved her for keeping him oblivious.
Someday, he’d know the truth. But not today.
“The battle with the mouse king started.”
Leighton nodded. “Yeah. Be right up.”
Alice didn’t push. Just nodded and tugged Grey with her.
I turned to follow, wrapping my arm around Leighton’s shoulders, tucking her against my ribs.
“Get me in a ring with her and I’ll make it look like an accident, I swear.”
“I know, Trouble,” I said, pressing a kiss to her temple as we hit the marble stairs. Her heels clicked softly beside me. “But tonight, what matters is Mattie. That she knows how loved she is.”
“I know,” she murmured.
We didn’t speak again as we climbed the stairs and slipped into the Hart family box. She stayed quiet through the applause, her gaze far away—until the orchestra shifted into snowfall. Then her eyes snapped to the stage, landing on Mattie, radiant in the spotlight.
I should’ve been watching the performance.
But I looked at the woman beside me instead, tears shimmering in her eyes.
And I knew I felt more loyalty—more kinship, more everything —for Leighton Rhodes than I ever had for the woman she’d just eviscerated.
As my hand settled on the back of her neck, and hers drifted to my knee, I wondered if maybe, just maybe, this aching, bruising heat in my chest… was what love felt like.