He was wound up enough that he jumped at the sound of the door being opened. He hid his embarrassment by tugging on the cuffs of his shirt to make sure just the right amount of fabric was visible beneath the sleeves of his jacket. He stopped in mid-fidget when he saw that his father had not come alone.
Nate had spotted the woman earlier. She was, after all, rather hard to miss. Tall and slender, with a long neck and killer legs, she’d make any straight male sit up and take notice. Ordinarily, Nate would play his role as the charming rake without a second thought, but something about her made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He hadn’t a clue who she was, for one thing. He knew every single person in attendance at this funeral, except for her. Even if she were some kind of visiting dignitary, he should be at least vaguely familiar with her. He’d never been a diligent heir, but he’d always kept up at least a passing familiarity with all the power players in the Corporate States, and she wasn’t one of them. Plus, she was too young to be a real power player.
So what was she doing here?
His father closed and locked the parlor door as the mysterious woman gave Nate a coolly assessing look. She wasn’t smiling, but there was something about her, some spark in her eye, that suggested she found Nate’s obvious puzzlement amusing. Which raised his hackles just a little more.
“What’s going on?” he asked, looking back and forth between his father and the woman. “Who the hell is she, and what is she doing at my mother’s funeral?”
He expected his father to reprimand him for his rudeness, but the Chairman settled for giving him a dirty look instead.
“This is Dorothy,” his father said, and for one of the few times Nate could remember, he actually looked … uncomfortable. “Dorothy, this is Nathaniel.”
Dorothy smiled brightly, and there was still that glint of humor in her eyes as she reached out her hand for Nate to shake. “Charmed, I’m sure,” she said. There was no hint that she was even aware of the tension in the room, much less that she shared in it.
The undercurrents had Nate’s nerves on alert, and he declined to shake Dorothy’s hand. She’d spoken three meaningless words so far, and already Nate didn’t like her. In his mind, he heard Nadia’s rebuke about how unfairly he’d treated Agnes, whom admittedly he’d never tried to get to know, but this wasn’t the same kind of snap judgment. He’d disliked Agnes from the start because of what she stood for, because of the harm she was going to do to his life and Nadia’s. He still had no idea who Dorothy was, so there was no practical reason that explained his reaction to her.
“Dorothy who?” he asked, hoping his voice sounded cold rather than shaken.
Her smile brightened, and he was sure that gleam in her eyes held a tinge of predatory glee. “Why, Dorothy Hayes, of course.”
Nate blinked and shook his head. Had his father remarried? Without telling anyone? And to a complete stranger, only days after his wife had died? Nate had a few cousins scattered about on his father’s side, but Dorothy wasn’t one of them.
Maybe the Hayes name was merely a coincidence. There were unrelated people who had the same surname within Paxco, and there were certainly more of them in the rest of the Corporate States.
“I’m so glad to finally have the chance to meet you,” Dorothy continued, but Nate ignored her, turning to the Chairman.
“What the hell, Dad?” He couldn’t remember the last time he had addressed his father as Dad, but somehow it had just slipped out.
The Chairman cleared his throat and shifted his weight uncomfortably. “Dorothy is…” He cleared his throat again.
Dorothy looked at the Chairman expectantly. What was wrong with him? He never showed hesitation or uncertainty in front of people, considered it a dangerous sign of weakness. But for this one brief, unguarded moment, he looked like he’d been backed into some kind of corner. Then he sealed up his defenses, becoming once again the coldly confident father Nate had always known. And he finally finished his sentence.
“She’s my daughter, Nate.”
* * *
From the moment her limo turned a corner and the Preston Sanctuary came into view, Nadia knew the place was more than just a more remote version of Tranquility. Situated on the crest of a hill, the Sanctuary loomed over the surrounding countryside like a brooding, forbidding fortress, and it gave Nadia a chill just looking at it.
It didn’t help that instead of her family coming to Tranquility to pick her up so they could all ride to the funeral together, they’d merely sent a driver. As if the thought of arriving at the funeral with her in their midst was embarrassing. Although maybe she was reading things into it that she shouldn’t. Maybe her parents and Gerri had driven up the night before and stayed the night in a local hotel. But if so, it would have been nice if they’d taken Nadia with them, especially since she hadn’t been able to meet up with Dante last night. A fierce storm had rolled in shortly before the time Nadia planned to leave the dorm to go meet him. She thought that if any of the staff were keeping a special eye on her, they might be able to understand if she went walking at midnight and got caught in the rain, but plunging out into a torrential downpour would be far too suspicious. Not to mention that visiting with Dante in those conditions wouldn’t be a whole lot of fun for either of them. She hoped he hadn’t waited for her in the rain for too long.
With no company other than the taciturn driver, the ride upstate seemed interminable. The only bright spot Nadia could find was that for the first time in more than a week she was not wearing a retreat uniform. The driver had brought her a package from her mother, and Nadia had been allowed to change into the simple black sheath dress and the shiny black patent leather pumps before leaving the retreat. There was also a black pillbox hat with a dotted veil that would cover her entire face. It was old-fashioned and not even remotely stylish, and Nadia didn’t want to wear it. But her mother had put it in the box for a reason, and the last thing she wanted to do right now was annoy her mother. With a sigh, she’d pinned the hat carefully into her hair, but she’d drawn the line at covering her face with the veil, so she had it flipped up over the back of her head instead.
It was hardly a flattering outfit, and Nadia had no jewelry to give it any spark, but she supposed that was appropriate for a funeral, especially one from which the press was barred and at which there would therefore be no photo ops.
The closer the limo got to the Preston Sanctuary, the more obvious were its differences from Tranquility. Tranquility was surrounded by a tall iron fence; so was the Sanctuary, but its fence had high-voltage warnings posted on it. Tranquility had a guard post at the main entrance; so did the Sanctuary, except the guard post included a tower with a lookout, and she could see more towers in the distance. She’d felt like she was entering a prison when she’d arrived at Tranquility, but the Preston Sanctuary felt about a thousand times worse.
How could Nate’s mother have chosen to live out her whole life at a place like this? Nadia didn’t care what kind of falling out Ellie Hayes had had with the Chairman; nothing was worth the kind of existence the Preston Sanctuary offered.
Once the limo had passed through the gates, the place became marginally less oppressive. As at Tranquility, the grounds were nicely groomed, although there were fewer flower beds and more expanses of plain green lawn. There were walking trails, but they were shorter and more self-contained than the ones at Tranquility, and there were no hedges or rosebushes or gazebos to block the view anywhere. The on-again, off-again drizzle must have been keeping everyone inside, because even with her unobstructed view, Nadia saw not a soul taking advantage of any of those walking paths. She glanced over her shoulder at the perimeter, taking in the guard towers, and wondered if it was even possible to relax when you were out walking here. She knew she would feel like she was constantly being watched, even though the guard posts were there to stop people—especially the press—from sneaking in. But at a place like this, there would be no chance to sneak out for a quick rendezvous with Dante,
even if he were close enough to get here.
Nadia hoped and prayed that a place like the Preston Sanctuary was not in her future.
The limo pulled up to the front of the main building, where a bunch of servants in the Chairman’s livery lingered to greet guests and guide them to the location of the service. One of them hurried over to open Nadia’s door for her. He held off the drizzle with an umbrella as she got out of the car.
“If you would just come with me, miss,” he said, still holding the umbrella above her head. The shoulders of his coat were noticeably wet from using the umbrella to keep other people dry.
The servant led her into the imposing building, which had neither the eye-catching modern design of Tranquility nor the welcoming niches for flower beds. The facade was of dark gray stone, with small, leaded-glass windows set at regular intervals on each floor. It was too elegant to be prison-like, especially with the leaded glass, but it wasn’t exactly homey, either. The interior wasn’t much better, the decor all staid and somber, and the small windows not letting in much light on this cloudy day. Nadia was glad when the servant led her all the way to the other side of the building and out onto a covered porch.
Black-clad Executives stood in intimate little clumps all around the porch. An awning stretched over a path of black cloth that led to a huge tent pitched on the lawn. Rows of wooden folding chairs were set up in front of a pulpit under that tent, and some of the more elderly of the Executives were taking advantage of the seating to plot and gossip in comfort.
The crowd of Executives was full of familiar faces, naturally. These people were the cream of Paxco high society, and Nadia was highly accustomed to socializing with them, though she had never enjoyed it. Because she was presumed to be the future Chairman Spouse, and therefore a person of great influence, many people made a great deal of effort to ingratiate themselves to her, and that got tiresome in the extreme. Equally tiresome were her jealous and spiteful peers, people like the Terrible Trio, who went out of their way to deliver backhanded compliments and sly insults. Nadia was very good at the verbal sparring, but she didn’t take to it with the vicious glee the Trio did.
Nadia scanned the crowd, considering her options and assessing the situation. She’d been escorted onto the porch with no fanfare, so most people hadn’t yet noticed her arrival. A quick glance confirmed her assumption that the Terrible Trio were all in attendance, the three of them traveling in a pack as they worked their way through the younger members of the crowd. Nadia took a careful step to the side so that there was a pillar and a cluster of older Executives that would block her from the Trio’s view. She doubted she could get through the whole service without having to talk to them, but she’d give it her best shot.
She spotted her parents standing at the far side of the porch, but she would have to pass right by the Trio to get there. Besides, she was so angry at both of them she’d be tempted to make a scene, which was Not Done.
Nadia hoped to spot Nate or Gerri, someone she could comfortably talk with, but there was no sign of either of them. She did, however, see Agnes, standing alone and forlorn in the far corner of the porch.
Nadia had spoken to Agnes only briefly at Tranquility—and that only because she had insisted Nate introduce them. It had taken no more than a couple of words for Nadia to confirm her suspicion that the poor girl was painfully shy and self-conscious. Nate hadn’t made any cutting remarks, but he hadn’t gone out of his way to be nice, either, and Nadia couldn’t blame Agnes for hunkering down into her shell for protection. She looked like she was doing the same thing now, her obvious discomfort in the crowd acting like some kind of force field to keep people away.
Almost without conscious thought, Nadia found herself wandering in Agnes’s direction. Agnes saw her coming and looked alarmed, glancing right and left as if in search of an escape route. Apparently subtlety was not her strong suit. But then, based on Nate’s unflattering assessment, Agnes didn’t have a strong suit.
Nadia should hate this girl who had supplanted her, or a least resent her. But Nadia’s ruin wasn’t Agnes’s fault, and holding it against her was unfair. The girl was doing her duty as the daughter of a powerful Executive, just as Nadia would have done in her shoes. Maybe if Nadia made friendly with Agnes, it would put pressure on Nate to do the same. Besides, Nadia would rather try to get to know a stranger than mingle with the Paxco Executives who would cut her and her family out of their lives as soon as they learned Nadia had been put aside in Agnes’s favor.
Nadia smiled in her most encouraging manner. Agnes tried to return the smile, but the near-terror in her eyes made the expression look more like a grimace. Her black dress could have used some better tailoring at the shoulders, and its layered skirt made her look more bottom-heavy than she really was. Her taste in clothes was questionable at best and would give those who enjoyed being cruel extra ammunition.
“So, we meet again,” Nadia said lightly as she put her hands on the porch railing and looked out over the grounds, trying not to make Agnes feel cornered.
“Um. Yes.”
If Agnes looked any more tense, she might start vibrating. At social events, Nadia was usually a big fan of subtlety, but she decided that perhaps with Agnes a bolder approach might be more effective.
“I don’t hold it against you, you know,” she said, giving Agnes another smile that she hoped conveyed the sincerity of her words. If anything, Agnes looked even more alarmed. “I know Nate has been acting like an ass toward you, but he doesn’t know what it’s like to be an Executive girl. I do.”
Agnes rubbed her hands together nervously. “I’m … sorry about all the…”
Nadia waved her off. “You have nothing to be sorry about. It’s not like we’re Employee girls and can choose whom we marry.”
“No one’s forcing me,” Agnes said with the first hint of heat Nadia had seen. “Nathaniel wants me to talk my father out of it, but I won’t.” She raised her chin, but the defiant gesture was undercut by her hunched shoulders and crossed arms.
“Of course not,” Nadia said easily, hoping that she’d managed to talk Nate out of being such a jerk in the future. “Nate may not be the prize catch he thinks he is, but the strategic match is undeniable. He doesn’t quite get that personal happiness isn’t as important as taking care of your family and your state. If things had been different, I could very easily have found myself in the same kind of situation.”
Agnes looked at her wonderingly. “And if you had…?”
Nadia shrugged. “I’d have done my duty, no matter what. You and I are more alike than you think.” After all, hadn’t Nadia done everything she could to protect her engagement to a guy she knew wasn’t into girls? She would much rather have married someone she was in love with—and who loved her back—but an Executive had to think about the well-being of her family and her state above her own.
Agnes gave her a look of infinite skepticism. “I’m sure in my shoes you’d be parked in a corner all by yourself just like me.” A flush of red instantly warmed her cheeks. “I mean, not all by myself … But…” She stammered to a halt.
Nadia smiled at her. “It’s okay. It didn’t even occur to me to be insulted until you started backpedaling. You were talking about before I came over.”
Agnes still looked miserable, as though she’d put her foot so far in her mouth she’d never be able to get it out. “I always say the wrong thing.”
“No, you don’t. It’s just that you’re an Executive and any wrong thing you say gets magnified out of proportion.” And it didn’t help that Agnes was apparently willing to do some of that magnification without anyone else’s input.
“You don’t know me.”
Nadia raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying it’s not true?”
Agnes sighed and shook her head. The flush had receded, and the tension in her shoulders eased away. “It’s still better when I keep my mouth shut,” she said sadly. “Most people aren’t as understanding as you.”
Nadia h
ad spent a lot of time feeling sorry for herself lately, but despite her misery, she wondered if Agnes weren’t the one getting the worst of it. Nadia had never enjoyed the verbal sparring matches with people like the Trio, and she’d had her feelings hurt plenty of times. But she’d always been good at hiding her hurt—and covering up any moments of awkwardness or uncertainty—so that she didn’t give the predators too much satisfaction and encouragement. Agnes would attract the same kinds of social predators, but she didn’t have Nadia’s armor. When the press and the Trio came after her—as they were sure to do when the engagement was announced—she wouldn’t be able to hide her hurt, and she wouldn’t be able to smooth over any awkward statements that escaped her.
“Keeping your mouth shut won’t be an option when the engagement is announced,” Nadia said. “It would be better if you could learn to stop beating yourself up when you make a faux pas.”
Agnes’s jaw clenched, and though she didn’t say anything, Nadia could almost hear her thoughts: Gee, I never thought of trying that. You just changed my life forever with your brilliant idea.
Nadia smiled ruefully. “Like, for example, when you offer condescending advice to someone you barely know and you want to smack yourself. You apologize for being an idiot, and then you move on.”
That surprised a laugh out of Agnes. “You haven’t seen Nate lately, have you?” Nadia asked, figuring this was a good time for a change of subject.
“Not for a while,” Agnes responded. “His father said they had something important to talk about and told Nathaniel to meet him inside at the top of the hour.”
Agnes glanced at her watch, which managed to look clunky despite its diamond-studded face. Not having a watch of her own—apparently her mother hadn’t thought she needed one for the funeral—Nadia craned her head to read Agnes’s. If Nate had met with his father at the top of the hour, he’d been gone for more than fifteen minutes already.