He got out of the car, quickly coming to my side to open the door for me. He offered me his hand, and after he helped me out, he didn’t immediately let go.
“Angelis fitting,” he said softly. He leaned in close. “Please stay safe. If you don’t want to—” He cursed, as if redirecting his words. “I’ll always keep an eye out for you, okay? Maybe it’s a compulsion I just can’t stop. But if you want your space, I understand.”
My heart thumped now for a completely different reason. “I—I don’t want you to stop.” My cheeks were even warmer now. “I’ll be careful. Thank you.”
Wes’s eyes were the same kind of tortured as when I told him myBabygirlspeech was real. The tension broke when he pulled away. The driver handed me my boxes of clothes. We walked together up the steps to meet our fates.
An attendant wordlessly took the boxes from me, as if she already knew exactly who I was.
Security took our phones and scanned us with a detector wand. At the sound of girlish giggles, I glanced over my shoulder. Three women approached in silk gowns, arm in arm. None of them were blonde.
Wes gently guided me forward with a warm hand on my back. My favorite auburn underling greeted us at the door. When she narrowed her eyes at me, I smiled warmly. I might not have belonged here, but Ms. Ice was not going to be the judge of that.
“Just Wes and Just Nova,” she said with a smirk. “So pleased you could join us this evening.”
She rattled off a script of rules and codes of conduct in a flat monotone. Wes and I nodded. He still hadn’t dropped his hand.
I turned to him to make a joke when we were finally let inside, but as soon as I saw what awaited us, I lost every train of thought I’d ever had.
“Pardon my French,” I said, swallowing hard. “But oh my fucking God.”
We’d entered a fairy tale. That was all I could describe it as. Every inch of the interior had been meticulously decorated to look like the inside of an enchanted castle, complete with vines crawling up the grand staircases, dangling plants and florals hanging from the ceiling, tiny twinkling lights, pillar candles surrounding a large, vintage mirror—and in the center of the room, a large glass case. Hidden speakers were playing low, moody ambient music intermixed with forest sounds. A few people were mingling near the stairs, but I heard far more voices coming from deeper in the mansion.
I approached the glass case. Inside, a nude blonde woman lay perfectly still, her beautiful face serene. She held a single red rose against her chest with both hands. The thorns hadn’t been removed. Tiny, dried trails of blood marked her porcelain skin from where the thorns had pierced her hands.
When something flew at my face, I leapt back into Wes’s chest. He steadied me.
“Are thosebutterflies?” I breathed, gaping at the hauntingly beautiful blue-winged creatures. “That’s cruel.”
A man in his late forties dressed like an ancient king broke off from a huddle of guests to approach us. With his ample gut, pasty skin, and wax-statue-like features, it was clear he was thebankrather than the entertainment. “Don’t worry, darling,” he said with a broad smile. “They’re PETA-approved.” He lowered his voice as if telling a secret. “Robots.”
When I spotted another flying about, its glowing iridescent wings confirmed the man’s explanation.
“Oh. Security let those through?” I asked.
The man’s eyes sparkled with surprise as he laughed. “The designs were meticulously inspected before approved, like everything else in this place.”
My stomach flipped. Wes’s hand tensed on my waist. I didn’t remember when he’d placed it there in the first place—perhaps when this man had first approached us.
“My name is Elliot,” he said, though he said it teasingly. “And you are?”
I blinked. My facial recognition skills were notoriously faulty, even with people I saw all the time on TV. My friends always had to be the ones to spot celebrities in the city, because without seeing them in context, my brain just never processed the recognition.
But as soon as he’d said his name, shocked horror clicked into place.
“Your robots,” I whispered. I quickly cleared my throat. “Nova.”
His eyes lit up as if he recognized my name too, and that made my stomach churn more violently.
Elliot Sulton. One of the richest men in the world, the CEO of another major tech company, knew whoIwas.
“Wes,” Wes said, even though the man hadn’t asked him.
My knees felt weak. Women from the group Elliot had broken off from stared at me before turning to each other to whisper. They all looked like models, still in gowns, as if they hadn’t changed into their party outfits yet. They held a level of surgically precise beauty I rarely saw in the real world.
The look on Elliot’s face as he regarded Wes wasn’t something I expected. My brows drew close as I looked between them. Elliot smiled, as if Wes had just told him a joke. And Weslooked scarily impassive, like he had boarded all of himself away. The only hint of emotion was contained in the darkness of his eyes.
“Nova!” a voice called from above.
