Page 3 of Her Dark Angel

A head of messy blonde curls beside the innocent girl captures my attention. I pause to trace my finger over his face and tug my bottom lip between my teeth. Memories I shared with him from my childhood crash over me—a reminder of what we both lost.

My fingers graze over the colorful beaded bracelet secured tightly around my wrist.

I wish I could’ve saved him.

If I had the ability to go back in time and change what happened to us, I would. But I can’t, and that’s what hurts the most.

My parents turn to face me when they hear my approach. Mom has her waist-long hair tied back into a slick ponytail and is wearing her signature beige pantsuit. Dad has his short hair slicked back, a dark brown suit jacket hanging from his narrow shoulders. They just scream plain and boring. Working in accounting will do that to you, I guess.

“Kinsley,” my mom greets as I round the counter and place my handbag down on the white countertop. “I was expecting you home sooner.”

I stifle a sigh and try not to glare at the bright colors around me. I hate the brown cabinets in here, but again, I can’t change it. I tried to once a few months ago, but my mom blew her top at me. Your image is everything, remember? You can’t have black cabinets, she told me. Just like she does every time.

How the design of my kitchen affects my public image is beyond me, but I’ve learned over the years not to argue with her. It’s too much energy that I don’t have to spare.

“I got caught up with something before I could leave,” I say vaguely, not wanting to give them more information than that. They like to know my every move, despite my telling them that it’s none of their concern what my daily schedule is. However, they insist they must know. I gesture between them. “What are you two doing here?”

“Can’t we stop by to visit our daughter using the house keys you gave us?” Dad asks with furrowed brows. His auburn hair is starting to thin on top. Thank God I got my mom’s thick blonde hair and not his.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “That’s not what I meant, Dad. I just want to know the reason for this drop-by as I would like to have an early night. I had a big day at work.”

Mom crosses her leg over her knee and spins on the bar stool to face me. “We heard from your agency about the deal they made with you to fake date Nash Beck.”

I blow out a sharp breath. Of course they know about it already. I wouldn’t be surprised if they knew about it before me. Adam wouldn’t have told them because he knows how I feel about them knowing every detail of my work life.

So, who told them?

“And?” I prompt, moving past where my dad stands by the fridge to grab a bottle of water. The plastic is cold when it touches my fingertips, condensation smothering my skin.

My gaze skims across the calendar hanging beside the fridge as Mom sputters, reminding me of upcoming modeling shoots, days on set, and other day-to-day errands that need to be dealt with.

My skin crawls with anticipated heaviness as my eyes find the image for April—it’s a bird’s eye view of New York City. Much like the landscape artworks at my agency, I find images of cities and towns equally uninteresting.

“And your father and I would like to discuss it with you,” she says. The tone of her voice tells me it should be obvious that’s why they’re here.

I take a sip of water to delay the conversation before I lower the bottle to the countertop. “What’s there to discuss, Mom?”

“Well, you’re going to accept the offer, right? I mean, it’s a great opportunity.” She shifts on the seat, her blue eyes meeting mine. Her blonde locks are big and flowy over her shoulder, cascading down her back, contained by a thin hair tie. I don’t know why she never pursued modeling. I mean, she certainly has the looks and personality for it.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.” That’s the truth. I have no fucking clue what I should do about this offer. I still need to weigh up the pros and cons because it’s not a decision I’m taking lightly. This could either make or break me, and that thought alone is terrifying.

“The answer is obvious, sweetie,” Dad interjects, looking between Mom and me. “Dating Nash Beck will help promote your new movie, and at the same time you’ll be helping to clean up his image.”

I grimace at his words. “Why is it on me to clean up his image? If anything, I’m worried he’s going to ruin mine.”

“Nash Beck is the lead singer of Dark Angel, the hottest rock band in the world right now,” Mom reminds me with a pointed look. I hate that whenever I look into her eyes all I can see is how similar we are. I’m the spitting image of her. “Yes, he’s a little rough around the edges and doesn’t make the best choices, but he won’t ruin your image. If anything, it’ll drive his loyal fans in your direction.”

“Or they’ll hate my guts,” I murmur, knowing what fans of the genre are like. I’m not an idiot. They are the type of fans to go that extra mile for the artists they love. If I were to go through with the deal, I have a feeling the Dark Angel fans would hate me for dating Nash. They always want what they can’t have.

“That’s not true,” Dad says with a frown. “They’ll love you. What’s not to like?”

I could give him a whole list, but decide to bite my tongue because there is no use in arguing with them. They only ever have a one-track mind when it comes to a deal like this. All they care about is how it’ll end.

When I was just starting in the industry, they would only accept the deals that paid well or boosted my public image on my behalf. That mentality stuck around until I was eighteen and could make my own decisions. Even now, I’m sure they’re only thinking about what I’ll get out of this publicity stunt, whether it’s more movie deals or modeling gigs.

They don’t care about how I feel about the situation as the person having to fake date a goddamn rockstar. They only ever care about how it benefits them.

Even though they have well-paying jobs, they like to hold over my head the fact that I wouldn’t be where I am today if it wasn’t for the money they spent on acting lessons and gas to drive me to and from auditions in Grand Rapids from the tiny town of Hart where I grew up. Because of this, I use my hard-earned money to fund their lifestyles now. Well, most of it, anyway.

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