“Neither did you,” he counters.
I sigh. I fucking hate conversations with my dad. “Get to the point. Why’d you call?”
“New Year’s Eve I want us to have dinner together. Bring your little girl toy too.”
“She’s my girlfriend, dad,” I grumble.
“Bring her,” he hisses. “We have something to discuss.”
I groan. The last thing I want to do is spend New Year’s Eve with my dad, but I always know I have no choice. He tells me what to do and I do it.
“We’ll be there.”
“Perfect. See you then.”
The line clicks off and I lay my phone down, pinching the bridge of my nose. A five-minute conversation with my dad and I already have a migraine.
Nova tiptoes into the family room and when she sees I’m no longer on the phone asks, “Your dad? What’d he want?”
I pull her down onto my lap and bury my face in the crook of her neck.
I already feel better.
“We’ve been summoned.”
It’s all the answer she needs.
Nova
“I don’t have to get dressed up, do I?” I lean my head out the bathroom door.
“Jace?” I prompt when he’s silent for too long.
“I mean, not like you were for the one thing, but you’ll need to dress nice.”
I sigh and grumble under my breath about what an asshole his dad is.
Jace appears in the doorway dressed in a pair of black dress pants and a black button-down shirt. He looks sleek and sophisticated, like sex on a stick.
“So, I should wear a dress?” I surmise, turning back to the mirror to finish applying mascara.
“Um, yes,” he hedges, watching applying my makeup.
“What kind of dinner is this?” I ask. “Is there a chance Owen or his dad might be there?”
“I honestly don’t know.” He frowns.
“Jace,” I groan. “You need to ask questions so I have answers.”
I finish with my makeup and then move past him into my room. I scan the items in my closet, looking for something that might be acceptable for the night.
I end up having to ransack my whole closet to put together my look, but in the end, I’m happy with the black tights, sequined short black skirt, and black top look. I pair it with black boot heels and my black leather jacket.
“How do I look?” I ask Jace.
He sets his guitar aside and smiles crookedly. “Fucking hot.”
“Fucking hot—does that translate to hot enough to fuck?” I joke.