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People? People didn’t have priceless works of art just hanging on the wall like something they picked up at Target. People didn’t throw parties where everyone seemed to gleam brighter than a lucky penny. The de Vrieses weren’t people. They wereSociety. There was just no other word for it.
Which meant we were the penniless if well-intentioned relations, right? I was part of a quintet of sisters, just like the Bennets in Pride and Prejudice, my all-time favorite novel. So did that mean there was a Mr. Darcy floating around this room?
And back to Austenland I went.
“Drink, sir?”
We turned to find one of the waiters offering a tray of champagne.
“Please.” Matthew took one for each of us. “Hold on a second, kid.”
Both of us downed the glasses like they were shots, not delicate champagne. Immediately, Matthew handed me another. I didn’t argue.
“I can’t believe you hang out with these people all the time,” I said as the champagne tickled my nose. My eyes were watering, but I wasn’t feeling quite so terrified.
Matthew shrugged after tossing back a third glass. “I wouldn’t say it’s all the time. I see them occasionally. Not for months now.”
I continued looking over the crowd. “You know, you fit in here.”
“Pull the other one, why don’t you.”
“No, you do,” I insisted. “We always make fun of you for your hats and your suits, but I’m looking at you. And in here, with all these fancy people. You blend right in, Mattie. You really do.”
“Give or take a billion dollars.”
“It’s smaller than you think,” I said.
For some reason, the idea that my big brother looked just as bright and shiny as any of these rich people gave me hope, even if I was a little jealous. We did share the same genetic code. Maybe I wasn’t as much of a fraud as I thought.
“Is she here?” I wondered.
“Who?” Matthew asked.
I just gave him a look. “You know who. Her.”
Nina was Eric’s cousin, or so I understood. There was obviously a chance she would be here tonight, and Matthew came here fully knowing that.
“I don’t think so,” he mumbled.
“Good,” I said, wanting to kick him. “You deserve a night off from the misery that woman brings you.”
Weboth do, I wanted to add. Over the last year, my stylish, savvy brother had morphed into Eeyore.
Matthew frowned. See, a sad donkey. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
But before I could tell him exactly what I thought about his personal version of Kryptonite, we were interrupted by someone who might have once been called mine.
“Francesca?”
I froze.
No. It couldn’t be. Not after five years. Not after he had all but disappeared off the face of the earth.
Do you believe in ghosts? Because at that point, I did.
I knew that voice. Its owner had the same raven black hair and dark blue eyes I saw every day on my daughter, plus a pair of mile-wide shoulders and soul-searing lips I couldn’t stop dreaming of no matter how hard I tried.
It was him. Xavier Sato.
Hotter than fire. Colder than ice. Father of my child.
And he had no idea.
