Villain (Hero 1.50)

I choked on a snort.

Seriously. I loved him.

Randall grinned at the noise. “I have a feeling Miss Ray shares my sentiments. Well, unlucky for you if you stick around with my son, you’ll be subjected to more of this. It comes with the territory.”

“I don’t mind this stuff as much,” Henry said.

“Now you don’t. Give it twenty years. So… do you like it?” Randall asked me directly.

I sighed. “It’s really only my first society event.”

“But?”

“I feel like a fish out of water,” I answered honestly.

Henry’s grip on me tightened. “Why?”

My answer seemed to have disturbed him.

“Uh, kids, maybe take that conversation elsewhere…” Randall stared over my shoulder, “Your mother is headed this way.”

Without even a goodbye, Henry took hold of my hand and dragged me in the opposite direction. “What is going on?”

He didn’t answer me until we were on the other side of the ballroom with hundreds of couples between us and his father. Henry grabbed two glasses of champagne, handed one to me, and downed the other.

“Explain.”

“You first.” He crowded me against a window alcove, hiding me from the rest of the room. His hand rested on my hip possessively as he stared down into my face, looking as serious as he had in the Town Car earlier. “You feel like a fish out of water here?”

“Honestly, yes.”

“Why?”

I cocked my head, studying him. Why did he care? “Why does it bother you if I do?”

“Because I have to attend these events. I hate to think of dragging you along to things you’re not enjoying.”

“There you go being all presumptuous again.”

“I introduced you to my father, Nadia. I don’t normally do that.”

I scoffed. “So I should feel honored?”

“Don’t do that.” He leaned into me, pressing his body along mine. He stroked my chin and gripped it gently to tilt my head back. “Don’t be cynical and distant. I don’t like it. It’s not you.”

“You don’t know who I am,” I whispered, aroused by his proximity despite the mess of my emotions.

“No?” He bent down, his lips brushing mine. “Then tell me who you are.”

I licked my lips deliberately so my tongue flicked against his mouth, and his eyes smoldered. “I’m the girl,” I kissed him on the corner of his mouth, “wondering why a guy would introduce me to his father, but run like a bat out of hell from introducing me to his mother.”

“His mother is wondering that also,” a cool, feminine voice said behind him.

Henry froze. “Fuck,” he muttered.

“I heard that.”

For some reason, Henry looked pained as he pulled back from me. And apologetic. He gripped my hand in his and turned to face a petite woman who appeared younger than her years. A woman whose wealth meant life had been kind to her skin.

“Mother.” Henry leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek without letting go of my hand.

Penelope Lexington had diamonds in her ears, around her throat, and around her wrist. In contrast to all the bling, her dress was black and simple. Henry had her lovely blue eyes.

She looked amazing for a woman who was mother to a thirty-something-year-old.

Her full lips, however, were pinched with displeasure as she stared at me.

“Nadia, this is my mother, Penelope.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Lexington.” I held out a hand to her, despite her chilly stare.

To my horror she stared at my hand like it was a bug. I dropped it, shocked at her rudeness.

“Mother, Jesus Christ,” Henry snapped quietly.

“Don’t you curse at me,” Penelope huffed and then narrowed her eyes on me. “I can see what a marvelous influence the weather girl is already being on you.”

I stiffened at her derision.

“Not. Here,” Henry bit out.

“Not here?” She stepped closer to us and I glanced around the room. Mostly everyone was completely unaware of the tension happening among the three of us, but a group of young women to our right caught my eye. They were watching with glee.

“You’re being rude.”

“I’m being rude? You were supposed to attend the event with Portia Windsor. Instead you dumped her for a weather girl.”

“Broadcast meteorologist.” I threw my shoulders back, eyeing her in defiance.

Her upper lip curled. “Dress it up anyway you want, sweetheart, you’re an overweight nobody whose breasts got her some attention. I know you. I know you better than you know yourself. And what I’m sure we can agree on is that you’re not good enough for my son. I want you to leave.”

“I can’t believe you just said that.” Henry stared at her in angry disbelief, two bright flags of red on the upper crests of his cheeks.

“I’m happy to leave.” I stared through her for a moment, hoping to make her flinch. However, she was cold as stone. As I moved to pass her, anger and fear that she was right mixed together. Maybe she was right. But how she’d treated me—humiliated me—was unforgiveable. I stopped by her side and stared down into her haughty expression. “I guess the saying is correct after all.”

She raised a perfect eyebrow at me.

“Money really can’t buy class.”

Hot temper lit up her eyes but I walked away with my head held high.

I was halfway across the ballroom, which seemed to have tripled in size, when he fell into step beside me.

His hand rested on my lower back as he guided me out.

Neither of us said a word.

Not while we waited for the Town Car to arrive. And not while we sat in the Town Car.

Inside I was screaming. How she’d treated me reminded me of a time I’d like to forget. But I didn’t feel like a victim.

I didn’t feel angry at Penelope Lexington, who’s attitude, unfortunately, was a product of the society she kept and being trapped in a time warp.

I was angry at myself because it was my own past actions that made me have such a low opinion of myself. A low enough opinion for me to b

elieve Penelope Lexington was probably right. Joe was right. Being with Henry was taking me back to that bad place again.

Because who was I to have judged Henry all night? To stand there in my too-high heels and weigh whether he was a villain or a hero? If he was good enough for me?

I acted like my story deserved a hero.

But only a heroine deserves a hero.

And I wasn’t a heroine. I couldn’t be.

The truth was in someone else’s story…

I was a villain.

“What are you doing?”

Henry frowned at me as we stood on the sidewalk outside my apartment building. “Coming up with you.”

The Town Car drove smoothly away. A trickle of fear, anxiety, and nerves mixed with the need to throw myself at Henry, to seek comfort in him with the added benefit of taking what Penelope Lexington didn’t want me to have.

Yet my anxiety and self-derision were stronger in that moment, and after all the time I’d spent fighting to feel good about myself, self-directed anger started to brew. Because I should have listened to Joe.

And since I couldn’t take it out on myself, I knew I’d take it out on Henry.

“Just go.” I gestured toward the departing car. “Call him back.” Turning on my heel, I climbed up the stairs to my door.

He climbed up the stairs right behind me.

My blood turned hot; agitation made me want to curl my toes inside my shoes, and the feelings stirring inside of me were so overwhelming, my hands shook as I tried to get the key in the door.

A small sigh sounded at my ear and suddenly his hands covered mine, pulling the keys out of my hold. I immediately stepped back, watching in mounting irritation as he let us into the building.

I tensed as he put his hand on my back, guiding me upstairs.

My throat felt hot, tight, swollen with words that I was trying to choke down. Hurtful words, hateful words. Words that would make him feel as badly as I was feeling.