Chapter 16
Finn
He’d looked for her for over an hour after Marsha finally let him go.
He genuinely couldn’t stand the woman. She was pushy and backed up all of her suggestions with something that sounded a lot like a threat.
But he couldn’t afford to tick off any of the paranormal organizations. They had a lot of influence. And while he was leading in the polls with humans, he was still trailing behind with paranormals.
He had to play nice.
He had to shake hands, smile, and laugh while making soul-crushingly polite small talk.
While all he wanted to do was find Iris. Because there’d been something in her eyes before she’d walked off that had his stomach tensing.
Something heated, but under that, vulnerable?
Or maybe he was just projecting what he wanted to see there.
“Finn, finally!” Henry said, rushing up to him, his tablet in his hand, a panicked look on his face.
“What are you doing here?” Finn asked, looking past his campaign manager to scan the streets for Iris.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Can’t it wait? I’m trying to find Iris.”
“Oh, I can tell you who did find her. Porsha DeWinter from Channel 16.”
“What?”
“Yeah, she gave a full interview to a news station. Without you present. Talking about you and your relationship.”
“That can’t be—” he started to object. Iris knew the rules. She was only supposed to speak to the media with him about their relationship. It was important for them to present a united—and in love—front if they wanted to be able to sell their marriage to constituents.
But Henry was already bringing up the video and hitting play.
“This is Porsha DeWinter, Channel 16 News. And I’m standing here at the Fae Pride Parade with Princess Iris Marivelle. Princess, I saw you standing very close to mayoral hopeful Finn Westrock.”
“Did you?” Iris asked, a telltale glint in her eye that answered the question without words.
“I have to say, the two of you make quite the pair. How did you like the parade?”
There was a spark of something in Iris’s eyes right then. But it was gone before he could pin it down.
“I think it was totally fin-tastic.”
“Did she … did she just say fin-tastic?”
“Indeed, she did. Just wait.” Henry looked seconds away from passing out.
“I mean, they were really krilling it out there. I was completely hooked. Ten tentacles way up.”
Oh, good gods.
Was she making fish puns on live TV?
“Great. Love that,” Porsha said.
Why, why did it have to be Porsha DeWinter to catch Iris alone?
Sly and cunning were her very nature, being a fox shifter. If she scented a story, she would do everything in her power to charm it out of someone.
And Iris didn’t have nearly enough media training under her belt yet.
“So, back to Finn Westrock. Do I sense … love in the air? What an unlikely duo,” she went on. “A royal mermaid and a politician.”
“How does that saying go? Opposites attract,” Iris said, her smile peeled back so tight, it looked like it hurt. “You know, like barnacles to a hull.”
“Oh, no,” Henry groaned.
“This is bad,” Finn muttered, running a hand through his hair.
The last thing he needed was a viral soundbite full of fish puns.
Not when the Pixie Council was still on the fence and the Vampire Syndicate was watching his campaign like hawks.
They wanted stability and tradition. Not chaos and pun-loving sea royalty.
“I’m not sure which of you is supposed to be a barnacle in this scenario of hers. But either way, it’s not good,” Henry said.
“I mean, a mermaid and a politician,” Iris went on, reaching up to flip her hair. Even the cameraman lost focus for a second, zeroing in on the silky strands and the way the sun hit the shimmering scales up near her hairline. “It’s all uncharted waters,” Iris said.
What was with all the ocean references? He’d been living with the woman for a while now and hadn’t ever heard her use fishy puns or ocean metaphors.
Was she just nervous?
“I think we’re going to be making waves, though, that’s for sure.”
“No doubt about that,” Porsha cut back in. “Well, you heard it here, folks. One of America’s most eligible polit-icians has clearly been reeled in. This is Porsha DeWinter, Channel 16.”
“What,” Henry started, turning off his tablet, “and I can’t stress this enough, in the hell was that?”
That was a good question.
Finn had never seen Iris act so fake.
He didn’t like it.
Even if he knew it was exactly what he and Henry were constantly demanding of her.
“I don’t know. But we can’t figure that out until we find Iris and ask her.”
“No, we have to figure out how to get ahead of this. There are going to be hundreds of calls, people asking for comments, for interviews. And memes. There are going to be so many memes.”
“I need to find Iris.”
That look in her eyes before she’d walked off was still bothering him.
“No. We’re going back to the office. Now.”
As if on cue, both of their phones started to ring.
It had begun.
“You get two hours,” Finn offered. He fell into step with Henry as he answered the call from one of the interns.
Finn could hear her tight, frantic tone, likely overwhelmed at having to hold down the fort alone.
“We’re on our way. Don’t answer until I get there and give you our comment.”
They spent the rest of the walk trying to come up with something to leak to the news stations and gossip accounts.
“You know what happens next, right?” Henry asked after they had spent a few hours putting out the fires.
“A joint TV interview.”
“I’ll see what I can get—daytime or late-night. Daytime is traditional. Late-night will pin you as the fun, relatable new couple on the block. I’m going to poke around and see who might be interested.”
“Okay.”
“You need to find your fiancée and inform her that she is going to be on round-the-clock media training from now until we put this fire out. And tell her not to speak to anyone without you again.”
“Yeah, I heard you the first twenty times,” Finn grumbled, raking a hand down his face.
It was supposed to be a nice day.
A turning point.
A simple win.
Maybe a moment Iris would look back on and think: Okay, this wasn’t so bad.
Instead, it was unraveling by the minute.
Now, he had to ruin what was left of it by lecturing Iris about talking to the media.
“Get that look off your face before you hit the street. The last thing we need right now is someone snapping a picture of you walking alone, looking miserable. After being called a barnacle.”
“I’ll talk to you later, Henry,” Finn said, turning and walking away.
He did force his lips to tilt up before he started walking, but it took a lot more effort than usual. His face hurt by the time he got back to his apartment.
“Monty!” he snapped when he opened the door to find the bird standing on the arm of the couch, looming over Checkers as he slept, his giant beak open wide.
The pelican jerked, just barely managing to stop himself from face-planting on the cat.
“What?” the flustered bird asked, fluffing his white fea-thers. “I was yawning. Big yawn. Stretching my jaw hinge. Totally normal.” At Finn’s raised brows, he added, “This is why no one trusts birds anymore.” He dramatically waved out a wing. “One open beak and suddenly I’m a menace.”
“You can’t eat the cat, Monty,” Finn reminded the bird with what little patience he had left after a long day.
“I wasn’t going to eat it. I was going to cradle it. Gently. In my beak. Like a cozy little emotional support snack—I mean friend!”
Checkers had woken up and was eyeing the pelican with totally earned suspicion.
“Have you seen Iris?”
“You mean your resplendent, glittering, camera-ready-on-a-random-afternoon fiancée? She mumbled something about saltwater therapy. Wait,” he called as Finn went to head back out to check the pool.
“What?” Finn asked, hearing a strange whooshing sound coming from the shell sitting on the coffee table.
Was that some kind of spelled gift, something that reminded her of home?
Spelled conch shells, trips down to the saltwater pool.
She was crying out for connections to her roots, to the salt water that was in her veins.
Their schedules were jam-packed with the election creeping closer, but he had to find some time for her to reconnect with the ocean, to get to be a mermaid, not just his future wife.
“Can you leave that pretty gold card of yours? I’m feeling peckish.”
Monty was going to charge at least five hundred -dollars’ worth of sushi to his card. But it beat him trying to eat Checkers again. So Finn left his card on the island before leaving the apartment.
He hadn’t been down to the pool since that first night with Iris.
He was surprised to walk up to the door that had once just been glass to see a new screen on it.
Mermaid Privacy Screen was scrawled across it.
Huh.
That was nice.
Though he wasn’t sure if someone had asked the super to put it up out of genuine concern for Iris’s privacy. Or because they’d been upset that their kids or husband had witnessed some unexpected nudity.
Finn felt an unexpected jolt of possessiveness, not wanting anyone to see Iris like that. Even if he knew it was natural for her and her culture to be comfortable with their bodies.
He reached for the door and moved inside.
The moment he opened the door, the air shifted, smelling unmistakably briny and wild, like a storm rolling off the sea.
The humidity wrapped around him like a memory.
Somewhere in the distance, he thought he could hear a whale song.
Or maybe that was just in his head, stirred up by the presence of the woman he couldn’t get out of his blood.
Iris’s tail slapped the water when she dove under.
She swam away from him, so he had just a moment to watch how perfectly she moved through the water. Like the two of them recognized each other. Like they were meant for each other.
And, of course, they were.
He felt a pang as he sat down on a chaise, suddenly feeling like he’d stolen something sacred from the place she belonged.