Chapter 18: : Chapter 18

Nate felt like a penguin in the Sahara Desert: overdressed, out of place, and at the mercy of brutal, sear-your-skin-off heat—only in this case, said heat came not from the sun but from the glare of his girlfriend’s father.

Roger Carrera loathed him. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.

Nate sensed it in the tightness of Roger’s smile, the painful grip of the other man’s hand when he shook it, and, oh yeah, that unrelenting glare.

Perhaps it was the normal suspicion a father would have toward his daughter’s new boyfriend, but Nate sensed it ran deeper than that. Failing the Fatherly Interrogation hadn’t helped either.

Nate’s college degree? Nonexistent.

His upcoming movie role? An unnamed, inconsequential one in the grand scheme of things, even if it was opposite Oscar Bravo.

His side job? A waiter, with a few modeling and catering gigs thrown in if he got lucky and had the time.

His parents? Oh, boy.

Luckily, the arrival of the remaining guests saved Nate from having to expound on his father’s career—as in, Michael had none—or broach the morbid subject of his mother’s death, which Nate had zero desire to discuss at a fancy Beverly Hills dinner party hosted by his girlfriend’s father and attended by his biggest idols.

“You’re doing great,” Kris whispered while Roger greeted the new guests.

“You and I have different definitions of ‘great.’” Nate adjusted his tie and winced at the reminder he was wearing black tie while the other male guests milled around in button-down shirts, dress pants, and the occasional blazer. He thought people got all dressed up for occasions like this; he was wrong. And now, he looked like an idiot. “Did you see the way your father looked at me? Like he wanted to barbecue my hide and serve me to the dogs for dinner.”

“We don’t have dogs, and no, he doesn’t.”

He slanted a glance in Kris’s direction. “Come on. He nearly broke my hand when I shook it.”

“It has more to do with me than you.” Kris, of course, looked perfect in an elegant black dress that clung to her curves and a diamond necklace that flashed beneath the lights.

Shit, Nate wished he was better at this fancy etiquette/dress code stuff. His first time meeting Kris’s father and he was already embarrassing himself.

“We’re still not talking to each other after our argument the other night,” Kris said. “And I think he’s been having issues at work. It has nothing to do with you.” At Nate’s arched eyebrow, she amended, “It doesn’t have everything to do with you. He’ll come around.”

Yeah, except Kris was only here for a few more weeks, so Nate didn’t have a lot of time to improve Roger’s impression of him.

On that note, why did he care what the other man thought of him? It wasn’t like Nate was asking for his daughter’s hand in marriage. Per their deal, Kris and Nate’s relationship was going to be over at the end of the summer, and they were going to part ways, never to see each other again.

Summer romances were just that: summer romances. As in, no extensions into other seasons.

Which was fine. It wasn’t like the thought of walking away from Kris made Nate want to throw up and punch a wall or anything.

Uh-huh. Sure.

Even he didn’t believe his own bullshit—but that was a problem for another time.

For now, he had to get through the night.

“Sorry I didn’t clarify about the dress code,” Kris said sheepishly when a producer whom Nate recognized from the latest issue of Variety passed by and smirked at Nate’s tuxedo. “I thought…well, smart dressy can be interpreted in a lot of ways, and you look incredible in your tux.”

He grunted, only somewhat soothed by the compliment. He’d rented the tux for tonight, and he regretted spending the money. “I look like a penguin.”

“Penguins are adorable.”

Well, didn’t that make him feel better. Not.

No guy past the age of eight wanted to be called “adorable,” especially not by their girlfriend. Might as well throw him in the same category as puppies and babies in onesies.

“In your case, you look like a sexy, masculine penguin,” Kris said, almost as if she’d read his mind. “And I can’t wait to get you out of that suit later.”

Okay, that improved Nate’s mood considerably, except now he had a new problem: his pants had gotten ball-crushingly tight, and it wasn’t because he’d picked up the wrong size at the hire shop earlier.

He didn’t have time to fix the issue—not that he was going to rub one out in the Carreras’ downstairs bathroom while Hollywood’s A-list drank their champagne and ate their pigs in blankets a few feet away, anyway—because Roger had returned with an older man in tow.

“Kris, so good to see you,” the man boomed. He had steel-gray hair, a hard jaw, and a voice like thunder. Nate didn’t recognize him, but if he was here, he had to be important in the Hollywood circuit. “Heard Teague showed you his new toy.”

Teague? Jesus, Nate couldn’t get away from that guy.

“It’s great,” Kris said. “I had no idea he was interested in flying, but he’s an excellent pilot. He took Nate and me both on a flight.”

Her father frowned at the revelation but didn’t say anything.

“Ah.” The man inclined his head toward Nate, who flashed a smile that masked his inner unease. Hey, he was an actor. He could put up a front with the best of them. “You’re Nate, I assume?”

“Nice to meet you, sir.” Nate shook the other man’s hand.

“Nate’s my boyfriend,” Kris said. “Nate, this is Steven Collins, Teague’s father. He owns one of the biggest animation studios in the country.”

“It’s a shame Teague couldn’t come,” Roger said. “He and Kris would’ve had such a good time.”

Like Kris didn’t already have a date—one who was standing right there.

Nate’s jaw tensed and he bit back a scathing remark. Meanwhile, Kris shot her father a glare and slipped her hand into Nate’s.

“Yes, well, apparently he has first-row tickets to a concert tonight that he can’t miss,” Steven said, sounding both indulgent and exasperated.

“What about Linda? I thought I saw her earlier.” Roger glanced around the room, where the other guests mingled and laughed.

Nate spotted Gloria with an ultra A-list movie star couple—he’d nearly choked when he first saw them earlier, because holy shit, they were even more intimidating and better-looking in real life—on the other side the living room, preening like a peacock in a dress so tight it might as well have been painted on. The couple smiled politely, but Nate saw the man check his watch and the woman stifle a yawn when Gloria wasn’t looking.

“She went to freshen up. She should—ah, there you are, dear.” Steven smiled at someone over Nate’s shoulder.

He turned, more out of habit than actual curiosity. Then he blinked. Once. Twice.

No. Nonononono.

The thirty-something brunette appeared equally stunned to see him. Her blue eyes widened, and her skin turned ash white beneath her tan.

She joined Steven’s side, avoiding Nate’s eyes.

Nate thought he heard Steven introduce her as his wife, but it was hard to be sure given the blood rushing to his head and pounding in his ears.

Someone announced dinner was ready, and people started moving en masse toward the dining room. Meanwhile, Nate remained rooted to the spot, twin spirals of shock and panic tunneling through his veins.

L.A. was a big city, and he’d been lucky with not running into his past clients so far, but out of all the places for his luck to run out, it had to be here, tonight. Not only that, but it had to be someone in his extended circle.

Fuck.

Nate was going to hurl. He wondered if Roger would mind him borrowing that antique Ming vase in the corner for a little regurgitation session.

Probably, but there were at least half a dozen of those things lying around—

“Are you okay?” Kris’s voice floated through the hazy landscape of his shock-addled brain. “You look like you’re about to be sick.”

“Yeah. No.” He grimaced and shook his head, forcing the bile back down his throat. “I’m good, just a bit dizzy. Must be this suit.” He tugged on his tie. “It’s hot in here.”

“I’ll have Risa turn the air-conditioning down.” Kris’s brow pinched with concern. “C’mon. Maybe the food will make you feel better.”

The food did not make Nate feel better. Sure, the eight-course meal was delicious, but the pork tenderloins and stuffed mushrooms and whatnot only increased the nausea churning in his stomach.

Finally, Nate couldn’t take it anymore.

“Excuse me,” he said as the staff cleared their plates off the table. “I’ll be right back.” He placed what he hoped was a reassuring hand on Kris’s arm before he pushed back his chair and beelined for the nearest bathroom.

Once he was inside the gold-and-cream marble space, he locked the door behind him and dry heaved into the toilet bowl. Nothing came out, though the nausea remained.

Eventually, he gave up trying to coax his dinner back out through his throat and sank onto the floor, resting his head against the cabinet doors beneath the sink as he fought to calm his breathing.

Nate wondered if Linda had been married when she came to him that summer. She was too young to be Teague’s biological mom, and second, third, even fourth wives were common in this town. Not that it mattered in the grand scheme of things. He was still ashamed of what he did—what he had to do—and he was determined to take the secret to the grave with him.

But what if Kris found out? Would she ever look at him the same? Probably not. Nate doubted Linda would say anything, but he’d ghosted her—stopped answering her calls and messages, changed his number—when he couldn’t do it anymore, and that had to have stung.

“Get your shit together.” His voice sounded tiny and hollow in the grand bathroom.

It was going to be fine. He was freaking out over nothing. The blast from the past was unwelcome, but it wasn’t the end of the world.

It’ll be fine, he repeated to himself, like saying it multiple times would make it come true.

After a few more minutes, Nate pushed himself off the ground and attempted to fix his rumpled appearance before he returned to the dining room. They were probably wondering where the hell he was. Well, Kris was, at least. The other guests probably didn’t care.

Tonight would’ve been an amazing networking opportunity, but between Kris’s father and Linda’s unexpected appearance, Nate was not up to the task of hobnobbing with people who would’ve left him stuttering and star-struck on a good day.

He smoothed a hand over his hair. Straightened his shirt and tie. Splashed his face with water and dried off with one of the soft-as-a-cloud towels hanging on the gold-plated rack.

He still looked pale as fuck, but there was only so much he could do.

He took a deep breath, opened the door—and ran straight into Linda.

You gotta be kidding me.

Nate wanted to lock himself in the bathroom again and never come out, but it was too late. Linda was already talking.

“Hi.” Her hand fluttered up to her stomach, throat, and hair, like she couldn’t decide where to put it. “It’s…a surprise to see you here.”

“Likewise.” He flashed a tight smile. “Listen, I have to get back—”

“Don’t say anything,” she rushed out. “Okay? Even if Kris had hired you for tonight, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention our…past acquaintance. Steven and I didn’t get married until last year, but we were dating and going through a rough patch when I reached out to you. I know he’s good friends with the Carreras, and he can’t find out what I did.”

Nate recoiled.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Linda continued, unaware of his reaction. “You were the best sex I ever had, and I was pretty upset when you stopped answering my calls, but, you know. Steven is the type of husband I’d always wanted—”

Because he’s rich, Nate added silently.

“—and I don’t want to mess things up between us.”

Silence.

This was a hell of a reunion. Right up there with getting his balls ripped off by pliers and watching Mariah Carey’s infamous Glitter on repeat 24/7.

Linda stared at him, her pretty face lined with tension. “Nate? Promise me you won’t tell. I’ll even pay you—”

“No,” Nate interrupted, grinding his molars so hard they ached. It was better than slamming his fist into the wall, which was what he wanted to do.

He didn’t bother correcting Linda’s assumption that Kris had hired him for the night, because why would someone like her be dating someone like him, right? Never mind the fact that a woman like Kris didn’t need to hire an escort. “I won’t say anything.”

“Great.” Relief washed over Linda’s features. “Listen, I have a few friends who would love—”

“No, thanks. I’m not in the business anymore. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to return to my date.”

Nate left Linda in the hall without a second glance and quickened his pace. He had to get out of here before—

“Not so fast.” Roger’s deep voice stopped him in his tracks.

Dread coiled in Nate’s stomach when he saw the older man standing in the open doorway of what looked like an office. Judging by his expression, he’d heard everything.

Nate glanced over his shoulder; Linda was nowhere to be seen—she’d probably ducked into the bathroom after he walked away. Great.

No buffer. Just him and his girlfriend’s pissed off father.

He closed his eyes.

Tonight was not his night.

THE GRANDFATHER CLOCK ticked in the corner, steady and loud as a jackhammer. The office smelled like leather and expensive cigar smoke, and unlike the rest of the Carreras’ pad, it was done up Old English style—big mahogany desk, wood-paneled walls hung with landscape paintings in gold frames, a Persian carpet that probably cost more than the Reynoldses’ monthly rent. The difference between this room and the mansion’s other airy, modern spaces was jarring.

Nate shifted in his chair and winced when the leather let out a loud creak.

Roger stared at him, the picture of authority and intimidation behind that massive desk. He hadn’t said a word since he’d asked (translation: ordered) Nate into his office ten minutes ago, and Nate was over this silent stare down they had going on.

“I think we should head back out, sir,” he said, making a conscious effort not to move so the leather chair didn’t squeak its indignation again. “Kris is waiting, and your guests are probably wondering where you are.”

“Dinner is over. The guests are mingling in the back patio, and last I saw, Kris was deep in conversation with Angelina.” Roger tapped his fingers on his desk. “This is as good a time as any for us to chat.”

So chat, Nate wanted to say.

“You and Kris. How long have you been dating?”

Nate really wished he hadn’t worn a tux tonight. He was sweating his ass off in here. “A month and a half, but I met her soon after she arrived in L.A.,” he replied, careful to keep up the lie they’d told Gloria.

In reality, they’d been official for a week, but he and Kris had connected long before they slapped a boyfriend and girlfriend label on it—not that he could tell Roger that.

“Hmm.” Roger looked unimpressed. “And how do you and Linda know each other?”

Every one of Nate’s muscles locked up at the same time. Damn, he thought he’d have more time before they navigated that minefield. Toss back some scotch—if there was ever a night for Nate to start drinking again, it was tonight—discuss the weather, shoot the breeze about the latest Lakers game.

But nope, Roger went straight for the kill.

It was a trick question. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the subtext of Nate and Linda’s conversation, and while Roger may not be Einstein, he wasn’t in the double-digit-IQ club, either.

“We met through a mutual friend,” Nate replied.

Technically true. Brandon, a fellow aspiring actor, had been the one who suggested Nate earn cash on the side by servicing Hollywood’s richest and horniest. Viagra only did so much, and there were plenty of both wealthy singles and wives whose husbands couldn’t get the job done to go around.

Brandon had introduced Nate to a famous director’s wife who liked the brown-haired, green-eyed type, the woman had told her friends—including Linda—and boom, Nate had been in business.

Technically, he’d been an escort, which was legal in California. Exchanging money for sexual favors was not. While Nate had strived to keep his activities in the over-the-clothes category, he’d sometimes stepped over the line for the right amount of Benjamins, as had been the case with Linda. He hadn’t been proud of it, but it’d put his family back on its feet faster, and he’d been careful not to leave a paper or money trail.

“Anyone I know?” Roger asked.

“Probably not. Sir,” Nate added, because manners.

The other man’s nostrils flared. “Let’s cut the bull, shall we? Unless I’m misinterpreting what I heard in the hall—and I don’t think I am—we both know how you and Linda met. I wanted to see if you were man enough to own up to it, but apparently not.” Roger settled back in his chair, his eyes harder than black steel. “Now, you’re dating Kris. My only daughter. I’m not sure what you did to put her under your spell, because she’s not the type of girl who falls for a guy so fast, but I will give a courtesy you didn’t give me: I’ll be honest. By that, I mean to say, you two are not well-suited. You live in different cities. You come from different…backgrounds. You are from two different worlds, and that’s not taking into account the things you’ve done in the past.” Roger grimaced. “I suggest you end things with Kris before they get more out of hand. It’s for the best.”

Flames of anger licked at Nate’s insides, and his vision hazed over with red. He clutched the armrests of his chair, his fingers digging into the polished wood as he tried to reign in his temper.

“With all due respect, sir, Kris and I know what’s best for our relationship. We may be different in some regards, but we understand each other. If she doesn’t want to see me anymore, fine, but I won’t let anyone else tell me what to do. And—” Nate took a deep breath, wondering if he should go there. Oh, why the hell not? Roger already hated him. “—I’m sorry to say that I probably know Kris better than you, considering you haven’t really been there for her. You make it sound like you want what’s best for her, but you barely spend any time with her. You give her money and buy her nice things, and that’s about it. You have no idea what she likes and dislikes, what her dreams and goals are, what she wants for her life. As for my past? That’s in the past. I did what I had to do to keep the roof over my family’s head because not everyone is lucky enough to be rich. I work hard, and just because I don’t have a trust fund or an Ivy League degree, that doesn’t make me any less of a person. So again, with all due respect, sir, you can take your suggestion and shove it.”

The silence following Nate’s speech was louder and more pervasive than any that had preceded it.

Shock, anger, and…was that regret?…carved deep grooves into Roger’s face, but they quickly hardened into a smooth, stern mask.

“Perhaps,” Roger said. “You raise good points.”

Nate almost fell out of his chair in surprise. Just as hope bubbled in his stomach, the other man’s next words shut it down.

“That doesn’t change the fact that you and Kris are doomed to fail. She leaves for Seattle in a few weeks, but am I correct in assuming you’d like to prolong the relationship even when you’re in different cities?”

Of course not. We have a deadline. We promised each other we would end things once she leaves L.A. Neither of us is into long-distance relationships.

That was what Nate should’ve said. But to his horror, he realized that was no longer true—at least, not on his end. He wasn’t sure how Kris felt, but he wanted to keep something going between them after this summer. In just two short months, she’d burrowed her way inside his heart, and unless he tore the entire damn thing apart—maybe not even then—she was there to stay.

“So I’m right,” Roger correctly deduced from Nate’s silence. “Kris might even agree. She’s infatuated with you, and I can see why. You are young, charming, good-looking. The type who holds many women in thrall, I’m sure. But where exactly do you see this ending up? She’ll be in Seattle, you’ll be in L.A. She’s accustomed to a certain lifestyle, one that you cannot provide for her, and while she has her own funds, I won’t let anyone use my daughter as an ATM.”

Funny Roger should say that, considering his fiancée was using him as an ATM.

Since Nate didn’t have a death wish, he kept that thought to himself.

Roger wasn’t finished. “You’re an actor. Quite a good one, I might act. You’ve put on quite a show so far, especially with that little speech you just gave. But you and I both know the real motivator at play here, so let’s cut to the chase.”

He leaned across his desk, his dark gaze unflinching. “I had an investigator do a little digging after Kris told me you were dating, and it seems like your family is in quite a financial bind. So here’s my offer: I will get your father his old job back, and I will pay you $50,000. All you have to do is stay away from my daughter.”