Chapter 10 #2
“Oh, come on. You have to tell me something. Does he have any strange habits?”
“He sings in the shower.”
“What does he sing?”
“Showtunes, according to Monty. He’s actually kind of good.”
“So … you’re taking showers with him?”
“What? No!” Iris just hoped her sister didn’t pick up on the slight hysterical edge to her voice.
She really didn’t need anyone else to know that she spent a lot of time thinking about Finn in the shower.
Naked. Soap running down those … no. Nope.
Her mind could not go there. “But the sound carries through the apartment.”
“You know what I think?”
“What?”
“That you are going to totally fall in love with your fiancé.”
“What? No. Absolutely not. That is never going to happen.”
“Oh, come on. I don’t think I know anyone who wants to fall in love as much as you do.”
“I do. More than anything. Which is why I am trying to get Finn to break off our engagement, so I can find my true love.”
“Would it be so horrible for your true love to be Finn?”
“Of—”
“Barnacles! Mother is calling me. I have to hide this shellphone before she comes in. But call me back, okay?”
Iris wiped a tear off her cheek. “Absolutely.”
“Love you bigger than the ocean,” Shelly said. The call dropped before Iris could offer her little sister the same sentiment.
Iris took a few moments to collect herself before she made her way back up to the penthouse.
She wasn’t sure if the call had healed or hurt.
On the one hand, hearing from her sister felt like getting a part of herself back.
On the other, it was just a reminder of everything she was losing by continuing to be on the surface.
Her sisters, sure, and her mother. More than that, though, the familiar sights, sounds, the vastness of the ocean, her tail.
The surface wasn’t all bad. There was a lot of freedom on land. In the city, there were no royal duties, no endless, soul-sucking meetings, no speeches she needed to prepare, nothing to study. Her time, for the first time in her life, was her own to do what she pleased with.
Whether her little sister understood it or not, what pleased her the most could only be found between the pages of books.
So she collected her beloved tote and more of the money her mother had sent her to the surface with—enough money, Monty claimed, to live comfortably for months—ready to head out.
She’d barely managed to locate her shoes, though, before there was a knock at the door.
Expecting Willow, she pulled the door open without looking out the peephole like Finn had instructed her to do, while giving her a speech about personal safety in big cities.
But it wasn’t Willow at the door.
It wasn’t anyone she knew.
Whoever this stranger was, he was almost shockingly tall and on the lean side without looking too gaunt.
He had a classically, almost darkly, handsome face with a strong, wide jaw, a straight nose, and a stern brow over deep eyes that conjured up images of the bruised sky after a storm.
His black hair was styled back away from his face, and his gray suit was quite a bit tighter than the ones Finn wore.
And speaking of that, Henry would never allow Finn to don a tie that featured a bunch of black and gray hearts on a white background.
There was an energy about him that screamed paranormal, but she couldn’t quite place it. His energy felt almost dark and bright at the same time.
A warning pulsed low in her gut—predator energy, maybe. But layered over it was a kind of seductive charm she’d only ever seen used by sirens back home. The kind that made you want to follow, want to please. Even to your own death.
She wasn’t sure whether to slam the door or invite him in.
“I’m not interested,” she told him with a firm nod.
She’d been hit on too many times to count since coming to the surface. She found a firm refusal was usually the most effective way to handle the situation.
“As absolutely breathtaking as you are, Iris,” the man said, his gaze sweeping over her in a way that reminded her a bit of Henry, just less judgmental, “you’re not my type.”
“Who are you?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him, not ready to let go of her aggressive outward demeanor until she knew she was safe.
“My boyfriend is on his way home,” she added, remembering one of Monty’s podcasts saying men respected you more as a possession of other men than as an individual.
“He is not,” the man said. “He is at his office with his campaign managers and about half a dozen PR interns, everyone giving him a spit-shine so bright that even the terrible lighting at the debate could catch.”
So he not only knew her but also knew Finn and Henry.
“Did Henry send you?”
“Interesting you would ask that instead of Finn. But no. Your mother sent me.”
“My mother? But you’re not merfolk.”
“Alas, the queen has many connections to all sorts of people. Both human and paranormals alike.”
That was fair. Iris attended many meetings in her life, but there were others that she and her sisters had been locked out of that were held away from the palace.
While Iris had always assumed those meetings involved other sea creatures, it did make sense that the queen would need to meet on land with other high-ranking officials as well.
“I would say Her Majesty sends her warm regards, but …”
“But she probably sent you with a stern warning about my behavior.”
“Precisely. But she also sent me with all this money for you,” he said, pulling an envelope out of his breast pocket and handing it to her. “So you can’t be too mad. You can use it to buy more …” he scanned the room “… teeth?”
The jar sat dead center on the kitchen island, catching the morning light like some morbid shrine. Nearby, one of her partially completed bug boards leaned against the wall, a dead, leggy spider pinned at a slightly crooked angle.
She should probably clean up.
Or at least move the jaw spreader from the bathroom sink.
“I’m sorry, but who are you?”
“Arden Laurent. Lower demon. Connoisseur of love. Planner of soul-binding contracts.” At her blank look, Arden shot her a wicked smirk. “I’m your wedding planner, love.”
“Oh! Okay. I mean, since you talked to my mother, I’m assuming you know this match is, uh …”
“As romantic as political red tape can be,” he supplied. “No worries. The love interests don’t have to like each other at first. That’s what banter is for.”
As he said that, Arden pulled a heart-shaped notebook out of his pocket. Then he pulled the heart-printed pen out of the spiral binding, popped it, and got ready to write.
“So, you’re a summer.”
“A summer what?”
“Season. Your coloring. Your fiancé seems more like an autumn to me. But, let’s face it, it’s your beauty we want to accentuate on your wedding day. Do you have any preferences on gown styles? Because with a body like that, you could wear last week’s headlines and still be the talk of the town.”
“I don’t really know much about dress styles,” Iris admitted. “I’m new to the surface,” she added.
“Dress shopping is … scheduled,” he said as his pen raced across the page.
“Out of curiosity, how loyal are you to my mother?” Iris asked, hating the idea of Arden putting a ton of work into her wedding, only to find it canceled.
“I am bound to the royal family to plan all their weddings for the next fifty years. But if you’re asking if I’m going to tell the good queen that her darling daughter isn’t a starry-eyed virgin in her white gown, your secret is safe with me. I like the love story. But I’m here for the money.”
“Do you still get paid if the wedding gets, you know, canceled?”
To that, Arden’s lips curved up, and a dark glee spread across his stormy eyes.
“Oh, I have witnessed quite a few engagement collapses in my time: runaway brides, grooms sleeping with the maid of honor, a rogue troll coming to object and steal the bride away. You name it, I’ve seen it. And have gotten paid.”
“Oh, good.”
“Trying to get out of your arranged marriage, are you?”
“Yes.”
“Can I ask why? Because I have lived through five centuries, two hundred and seventy-five wars, eighty-six vampire scandals, and still that man’s jawline is the most dangerous thing I have ever seen.”
“Because he’s … a mayoral mannequin. He’s full of scripted sincerity and PR-approved charm. I don’t think there is a single genuine thing about him.”
“Ah, yes. He does come off as Mr. Electable. Because he, as crazy as this may sound, wants to be elected.”
“Hey, whose side are you on?” Iris grumbled.
“Yours, love, always yours. I support a woman’s rights and her wrongs. I will let you decide which category this falls into.”
“I don’t belong on land,” Iris said, her barely contained emotions drifting to the surface.
These were the real ones.
Not the over-the-top dramatic ones she pretended to have in front of or around Finn.
She’d hurt her own throat from pretend-sobbing over that thing he’d said about collecting shiny things.
To her horror, he hadn’t been turned off by the display, either. He’d been waiting with a cup of tea and what seemed like a real apology. She tried to tell herself he was so good at spin that it was impossible to tell if he was being real or not.
“Oh, you pretty thing,” Arden said, producing a pocket square that featured—of course—a heart pattern. “Heavy is that coral crown,” he said, patting the tears on her cheeks. “Well, just because there won’t be a wedding doesn’t mean we can’t have fun planning the most fantastic one imaginable.”
“Fun how?”
“Well, we can go visit venues, for one. I was thinking, given who you are, something near an ocean would be ideal.”
“We could visit the beach?” she asked, spirits rising.
“Of course we can. You know you can, right? You’re not a prisoner here.”
“I wouldn’t even know how to get there.”
“That’s what GPS is for.”
“I don’t have a phone.”
“You don’t have a phone.” Arden repeated it as if she’d declared she didn’t have bones or lungs.
“No. I wouldn’t know how to use one if I did.”