Speak of the devil.
The Mercedes pulls out of the garage and up in front of me. Nicholas kills the engine and steps out, his polished shoes clicking against the pavement. He looks as annoyingly put together as ever—neat suit, hair immaculate—like he’s stepped out of some glossy ad for rich assholes.
“Koen must need his car back badly if he sent you to grab it for him,” Nicholas remarks as he tosses the car keys over the roof of the car. “And you actually agreed to do it?”
Instinctively, I catch them, one-handed, glaring at him as I shove my phone into my pocket. “Koen didn’t send me,Harrington.”
“Oh?” Nicholas’s brow lifts. “Then what brings you to grace me with your presence,Walker?”
“We’re going van shopping.” I toss the keys back. They arc perfectly, landing right in his chest. He catches them with an annoyed huff. “Get in the car, dickhead.”
He hesitates for a beat, then slides back into the driver’s seat with a muttered, “Unbelievable.” I follow, slamming the passenger door with enough force to punctuate my irritation.
The tension between us is palpable as I type the address I memorized into the navigation system.
Nicholas starts the engine. “You want to tell me what the fuck is happening, or are we going to bask in awkward silence all the way there?”
“Drive,” I command, leaning back and crossing my arms, but to my surprise, he does as he’s told.
Good boy.
I pull out my phone, unlock it with a swipe, and scroll through my playlist because he’s right—this silence is awkwardas shit. Since this is Koen’s car, my phone automatically connects to the sound system. I tap the screen, and “Shape of My Heart” by the Backstreet Boys fills the cabin.
Nicholas’s head snaps toward me, his brows shooting up in disgust and utter disbelief. “Are you serious right now?”
“What?” I feign innocence as I tap my fingers against the armrest to the beat.
“What the hell is this?”
“It’s called a vibe,Harrington.Maybe you should try it sometime.”
“Why are you doing this? Am I here to get tortured?”
I shrug. “It fits the occasion.”
“How in God’s name does this fit the occasion?”
“It’sbuying-a-vanmusic.”
“Of course it is,” he mutters, already done with my shit. “And what does buying a van have to do with me?”
“One, you said you’re in, so your lazy ass can help with preparations for the show. And two, we need to talk.”
“Talk about what?”
“Talk about the perfection that is Sparkle. And about how delusional she is for apparently wanting you.”
His grip on the steering wheel tightens, and he looks like he wants to kick me out.
Rich boy can fucking try.
“Don’t push me,Walker.”
“Push you?” I laugh, sharp and bitter. “What, you think I’m the problem here? You’re sitting there acting like the victim as if she played you like we all did, but the truth is… you played yourself.”
“Right.” He scoffs. “I’m the idiot for trusting her. For trusting any of you.”
“You said it, not me,” I fire back, managing to keep my tone soft enough to stop him from kicking me out of the caraltogether. I need him to hear me, not shoot me down. “Look, man, it’s not only her fault. It’s yours too. Hell, it’s all of ours. We brought her into this. We pushed her toward you. You think she woke up one day and decided,let’s go fuck with the Harringtons for fun? Grow up.”
