I thought about seeking Chasm out. I did. Inviting him into bed. My body.
In the end, I just went back to sleep, but I can see now that this tension between us is going nowhere. Parrish. Parrish. Oh god, I’m so sorry Parrish. If I even remotely let my mind stray back to last night, I feel a terrible sadness that clings like early morning dew to the sleeves of a wool coat.
Oddly specific imagery, Dakota. Really nice. If you do end up becoming a writer, you’ll fill your books with meaningless but very pretty purple prose.
“Not like that,” Chasm says, shaking his head as if to clear it. “I think he likes you in a different way. Did you see his face when he was watching us do it on the video last night? I thought he might punch me.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” I snort, but I can’t quite get past the idea that he’s telling me the truth.
Our conversation comes to an abrupt halt as Tess enters the kitchen. She looks stunning with her dark hair in a topknot, her white business suit like something one of the Kardashians might wear on a magazine shoot. She looks … wow. I guess it isn’t all bad, sharing DNA with her.
“The press conference is in a few hours,” she tells us, looking over the spread on the table with a small frown. “Have Delphine come in here and clean this up when you’re done. Then Dakota, I’d like you to get dressed up in something nice.” She actually uses my correct name for once which I appreciate. Tess grabs a mug and then gestures loosely in Chasm’s direction with it. “Kwang-seon, your father doesn’t want you to participate in the filming, so you’ll need to go home before then or stay out of view of the cameras.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says, but there’s no hint of mocking or sarcasm in his voice. He knows we’re both on thin ice with Tess. Add in the wild card of Kimber Celeste and things could get bad if we don’t toe the line.
The doorbell rings, and Tess pauses, glancing over her shoulder in that general direction.
“What on earth?” she asks, setting her mug on the counter and heading that way. Chasm and I exchange a look. There shouldn’t be any surprises knocks on the door here; we have a gate with a keypad and two police officers for a reason. Did a reporter sneak over the fence? Is it the lawn guy telling us that he found something? The FBI agents?
However I imagine things working out—that is, not at all the way they actually do end up turning out—I could never have dreamed of this.
Even if, one day, I were to become a famous novelist like Tess, I could never come up with this plot. Not in a million years.
I move up beside Tess, but a few steps behind her. Chasm is trailing just slightly behind on my left, and my entire world is about to shift in indescribable, inexplicable ways.
Tess doesn’t bother checking the front door cam or peeping out the window. She must, like me, figure that whoever is waiting on the other side is a friendly party. Or, at the least, a neutral party. At worst, a reporter overstepping their boundaries. She looks like she wouldn’t mind punching an inappropriate paparazzi.
The front door here is actually two front doors, a very grand sort of entrance. Tess opens the left side and looks out. As soon as she sees whoever’s on the other side, her hands slips right off the handle, and the door swings wide, bumping into the wall.
A man stands on the front porch, his hands tucked casually into his perfectly creased slacks. He’s wearing a dress shirt with the top few buttons undone, a loose tie that highlights the strong column of his neck, and a smile
A genuinely beautiful, open, adoring smile.
His eyes are a brilliant blue, his hair a glossy black, his skin a slightly tanner version of my own.
He looks right past Tess and straight at me.
My blood goes cold, and if I hadn’t put a hand on Chasm’s shoulder to steady myself, I might’ve fallen over and cracked my head open on the white marble floor.
“Justin?!” Tess chokes out, her voice high and reedy. She sounds like she’s about to faint. She looks at the man the way someone might stare at a corpse risen from the grave.
Justin.
Did she just … did she say Justin?!
“Justin?” Chasm repeats, making the name ring in my head like a curse. I’m just staring at the guy. He looks like a model or a rock star or something. His face is handsome but not too pretty, his lashes long, his hair full and slightly wavy. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s probably in his mid to late thirties.
