“He custom-built it, if I recall correctly. If you want, I can help you find or build something like it. You know, hiring the right architect and things like that.”
“No, it’s okay. I have a particularly nice neighbor, and prefer not to move.” He winks. “Thanks for the offer, though.”
I lay a quick kiss on his cheek, happy we’re on the same page.
He parks the car, and I put a hand on his shoulder before we get out. Wyatt isn’t the type to read high-society gossip rags and tabloids. “By the way, do not, under any circumstances, ask Anthony, Edgar or Court about their parents. Or Ivy’s parents.”
“How come?”
“It’s a long story, but there was a really bad scandal. Best to avoid the subject unless they mention it first. But I very much doubt they will.”
Wyatt arches both eyebrows, and his reaction makes me glad I brought it up. I don’t think he’ll be nosy, but I don’t want him to inadvertently step on a conversational landmine, either.
“That bad, huh?” he asks finally.
I nod with a small sigh. The scandal rocked the upper crust for a while. Salazar once said he would’ve “accidentally” pushed Anthony’s mom into an alligator-infested swamp for what she did. “I’ll send you an article later if you’re curious.”
“Don’t worry about it. I won’t say a word. And I can Google it sometime.”
We get out of the car. Wyatt extends his arm, and I link mine with his and we walk to the main entrance. My mood is bubblier than the finest champagne. Even though I was a little reluctant about attending, I’m happy to be here with Wyatt now.
The lights blaze, and loud music is blasting. The interior is just as tastefully posh at the outside—gleaming marble and brilliant crystal. A few pictures hang from the walls, and there’s a tall bronze statue in the center that makes you crane your neck to study a woman with a small harp in her arm. She looks like a muse of music.
Wyatt leans over. “So Dane thought I should display that statue in my home? Like this?”
“Most likely, yes. And terrify everyone who comes in.” The memory of the harpy devouring the poor man sends shivers down my spine.
He shudders. “Nasty.”
Yuna comes twirling in from the hall. She’s wearing a white dress and silver stiletto sandals with three thin straps. Her makeup is perfect as usual, and she beams at us. “Hey, so glad you could make it! Everyone’s already here!” She turns to a green-eyed man with dark hair, who followed her toward us.
The man doesn’t exactly radiate coldness like Dane, but there’s an edge to him that says if you mess with him, you’ll pay for it with a bucket of blood.
Yuna beams at him. “Tony, meet my roommate Kim and her boyfriend Wyatt.”
He smiles, and it transforms him. What a mask, I think. This man is anything but sweet and nice. He didn’t build his fortune by being affable after his family kicked him out.
He extends a hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Wyatt and I shake hands with him, and he leads us to a hall large enough to hold a concert. A buffet is set up, laden with too-cute-to-eat finger food and fruit cocktails in individual serving cups. There are four fountains of drinks, plush armchairs and couches everywhere. I spot a strawberry blonde with a little pregnancy bump. Evie’s speaking with her, a hand over her own belly. Evie’s oven has a stealth bun that’s going to be showing in a couple of months.
We go over and I introduce her to Wyatt. She tells me Nate is getting her some snack or other.
“I’m constantly hungry,” she says with a sigh.
“You’re eating for two,” I point out, pleased that Nate seems to be spoiling her. He’d better.
“Congratulations,” Wyatt says. “Is it a boy or a girl?”
Evie puts a protective hand over her belly. “Too early to tell yet.”
“Have you made out a list of names?” I ask. Evie is super organized. She must’ve already created a file on her tablet.
“No. And don’t get me started.” She scowls hard. “Barron”—her gaze darts in Wyatt’s direction—“that’s Nate’s grand-uncle… Anyway, he wants me to name the baby after him if it’s a boy. And if it’s a girl, he thinks it ought to be Ethel.”
“Ethel?” Wyatt blinks. “That’s…um…traditional.”
I shake my head. “Let me guess. He wants you to honor his late wife.”