Chapter 16 #2
Well, clothing wasn’t exactly the right word. It was mostly lingerie and intricate costumes at first glance. There were tables of fairy wings, flower crowns, hair pieces, tiaras, and Medieval cone princess hats.
I already had choice paralysis when Maisy popped out from behind a rack to greet me.
“What the hell is all this?” I asked.
Maisy beamed. “Princess treatment, of course.” She winked. “Jeffrey’s idea. Why go shopping when the shopping can come to us?”
The moment I spotted the mediocre-looking fifty-year-old sitting on a couch watching us, my stomach churned with discomfort.
“Don’t worry, I’m heading out,” Jeffrey said with a creepy smile. “You ladies have fun. Take anything you want.”
He approached us, and I tried not to make a face when he kissed Maisy on the cheek. She made soft, sexy doe eyes at him, her voice girly and higher than normal as she thanked him and said goodbye.
Jeffrey glanced at me, and I cleared my throat. “Thanks for including me.”
“Of course. It’s a pleasure to take care of Maisy’s friends. But I think one of your suitors already picked something out for you…”
I followed his gaze to a table to the left of the nearest rack. One of my suitors? Wes wouldn’t. He made it clear he would never tell someone what to wear ever again.
“Do you know who?” I asked.
Maisy nearly bounced up and down with excitement. She waited until Jeffrey left before she blurted, “Why the hell haven’t you told me about Roman freaking Graves?”
Roman Graves. Graves was a rather infamous surname uttered near-constantly on every news station. It was also a common name, right? Roman wasn’t—oh God, wait a minute…
My face paled. “Like, related to Max Graves?”
“Related to.” Maisy threw her head back. “Girl, Roman’s his son.”
Oh, shit.
“As in, heir?” I squeaked. “To Wave? Wave Platforms Incorporated?” I wasn’t sure why I needed to use the tech empire’s full government name, but my head was spinning.
Maisy stared at me in disbelief. “How is this news to you!”
“I don’t pay attention to details about the personal lives of evil billionaires!” I snapped defensively. “Or their heirs.”
“Well, some of those billionaires are going to be at the party Saturday, so maybe cool it with the evil talk.” She huffed, as if frustrated by my reaction. “And your suitor is one of them. Or at least, he will be one day.”
Okay, so Maisy was not a safe space for eat-the-rich sentiments. Noted. I should’ve probably guessed that from her relationship with Archer and Jayne. She was in deep. I needed to watch what I said around her.
“Lucky me,” I said with a tight smile, and Maisy’s face relaxed an inch.
As I popped a pink macaroon inside my mouth and surveyed the outfit Roman had selected for me, my heart pounded in my chest.
I’d attracted the interest of the son of the most infamous tech oligarch in America. In the world, actually. Max Graves was the founder of every social media platform that mattered. PicWave. VidWave. ThoughtWave. I ran book advertisements through Wave Business Suites.
We all bowed before his creations, worshipped at the altar of their effects on our hopelessly addicted brains. If we were caught in anyone’s web, it was Max Graves’s.
I panic-ate two more small pastries. Maisy was oblivious, smiling as she thumbed through the rack of delicate lingerie.
“I think I’m doing a Medieval princess look,” she said with a decisive nod. “I want to wear a pointy hat while I get spit-roasted in one of those old timey wooden pillories.”
The comment barely penetrated my adrenaline haze.
The outfit Roman picked for me looked like it came straight from a couture runway, a twist on the Midsummer fairy motif that was celestial, angelic.
The lingerie included hand-beaded detail, shimmering crystals I was terrified were diamonds, and champagne fabric with floral stitching.
It looked like it was going to cover all sensitive areas, but it would definitely show off my ass.
The wings were much better than I could’ve found on .
They were elegant, long, and blended seamlessly into the rest of the ensemble.
“Aw, he’s dressing you like an angel. See—that’s sweet!” Maisy said, nudging my shoulder. “He definitely wants to hunt you down in a meadow and ravish you.”
“Is that one of the planned activities?”
Maisy nodded. “I’ve heard whispers. It’s a bit of foreplay for the real hunt that happens at the more selective autumn party. That shit is serious.”
I didn’t have the bandwidth to process the idea of rich people recreating Squid Games: Kinky Edition.
Besides, after I found Lorelei Saturday, this would all be over. At least for us.
I abandoned Roman’s gift to search the racks for alternatives.
“Are you joining the auction?” I asked Maisy.
“Of course. It’s for charity, and it’s going to be hot as fuck. Win-win.”
I opened my mouth to ask her if she thought the charity part of the event was in poor taste, but her answer seemed clear. Maisy was not a true ally in my critical analysis or my subterfuge.
I missed Wes—I missed him against my will. Did he know about the auction? Was that why he was being so damn protective?
It was getting harder and harder to pretend whatever the hell was happening between us was friendly. But it didn’t matter. Chemistry wasn’t enough. He’d made his intentions clear, multiple times, and I refused to give any piece of my heart to someone who didn’t want it.
“What are you doing, Nova?” Maisy asked with a sigh.
I hadn’t realized I’d been glaring at the blameless articles of clothing as I angrily parsed through the current rack.
“I can’t accept that outfit. It’s probably worth more than a year’s worth of rent. Or way more than that,” I muttered, having no grasp of the economy of wealthy people’s clothing.
“You know, you can just let things be easy,” Maisy scolded. “You’re not a better person for choosing the more difficult path out of spite or pride or whatever. You’re allowed to have fun. To relax. To use a man’s credit card when it’s handed to you on a golden platter.”
“I don’t—” I took a breath, stepping away from the rack while holding the most conservative set I could scrounge together. “I’m not trying to be difficult, and I don’t think I’m better than anyone else. I don’t want to owe anyone anything. And I don’t want someone else’s success. I want my own.”
Maisy nodded, her features softening. “You’re in your masculine, I totally get it.”
I suppressed a frustrated groan. Not this shit again.
“You’ve been in survival mode for a long time, haven’t you?” she asked.
My spine straightened with a burst of defensiveness. She had no fucking idea what I’d survived. None of them did.
No one except Lorelei.
“I grew up in foster care,” Maisy said. “I raised myself, along with my three younger siblings. We never knew a stable home.”
Empathy softened my anger, seeing Maisy in a new light.