Page 37 of Dirty Secret

CHAPTER 13

Heidi

"You have nothing to worry about, Heidi."

How could he be so calm? Max held my hand with the gentlest touch while I freaked out internally. On the outside, I gazed up at him and nodded. I wanted to believe him and for a split second; I did. It was his eyes—so blue, so loving.

But the expensively papered walls and the marble floor reminded me that this was hell on earth.

Max looked dapper in a gray suit, which used to be his dad's. Felipe, always wanting to be helpful, made sure his tailor could adjust the suit for Max. Apparently, tailors made house calls.

"How can I be worried with such a handsome man at my side?" I was lying. Not about Max being good-looking, but I certainly was lying about the worried part. I was petrified.

My smile was as wooden as the door we walked through moments ago at my parents' home in Woodland-Normanstone Terrace. The butler took my purse moments ago, probably to be inspected by my dad's assistant for anything that may be used against me in the future.

But now that it was gone, there was no way I could dash—I shouldn't have put my house keys in my purse. Instead, I hooked my arm into Max's and accepted my fate.

"Remember what I told you on the ride over here. No matter what your father says about you, no matter what may have happened before I met you, I care about you. I want the Heidi I met weeks ago with a burst pipe and amazing cookies. I'm the lucky one, to have you in my life."

Max lowered his head, and for a moment I was lost in his words. I believed them. Or maybe I was desperate to cling to them. It didn't matter; he was here and about to kiss me before the biggest vag-blocker of them all clicked her heals into the room.

"Heidi! Oh, darling. It's been too long." My mother's Spidey senses were on full alert when family entered the house, and she raised her arms as if seeking a hug. An embrace never meant to be. Everything was for show with her. Even me.

I'd be surprised if she came close enough to touch my sleeve.

Her long blond hair was pulled back into a perfect low bun. The air of sophistication and conservative style felt cold and uneasy all as she drew closer.

"Hello, Mother. I would like you to meet Max Brighton, my neighbor."

She stopped as if wonderfully surprised right before she had to clasp my shoulder or pat my elbow or whatever awkward touch she'd be forced to give her only daughter. Turning, she straightened to her full height and offered her hand.

"Max, this is my mom, Senator White."

See what I did there? I gave my mom an in. A chance where she could appear down to earth, despite being anything but. I've been taught since before I had my first pimple that it's important how outsiders viewed us. We—meaning the White family—needed to give the appearance of a loving, sweet, perfect representation of what a wholesome American family looked like.

"Oh, Heidi. He's your neighbor." She took his hand, not in one, but with both, saving her strength for having to touch another human for a commoner—something my mom actually referred to as anyone who wasn't a donor. As if she was an aristocrat and they were peasants.

Her warm and inviting smile was on point, like Max was a dear friend, when she said, "Senator White is for the Hill. You are a guest. Please, call me Sofia."

"It's nice to meet you, Sofia. Thank you for inviting me to your lovely home." Max fell easily for my mother's charms.

I sighed. They all did.

A flash of disappointment faltered my phony smile. My parents had been at this for decades, longer than I'd been alive. Is it any surprise that Max had already succumbed to my mother's charisma?

She waved her hand toward the two large ornately carved doors on our right, which led to the formal living room, used to impress and entertain guests. I was certain my parents—in an effort to scare him off—wanted to show Max just how much money the Whites had at their disposal. The room, they suspected, was where Max would show his true colors. Either fawning over them, thereby proving that he was only after me for my money. Or, they believed Max would stumble. Uncomfortable with that amount of wealth and therefore, reconsider being with me.

I knew this because the tactic was used on anyone who befriended a member of the White family. It usually worked, and I feared, it may also succeed with Max.

With a turn of the door handle and a gentle push, my mother swung open the door. There were several people in the room, including my father. He stood at the far end in front of the large fireplace with a crystal tumbler in hand, two fingers full of bourbon.

"Welcome to our little dinner party. We're quite informal. Please, help yourself to the drinks table in the corner." My mother gestured toward a large mahogany table with a man in white gloves standing behind it, off to our right. "Do excuse me, Attorney General Fitzwilliam is here."

My mother nodded as if just saying the attorney general's name was a "get out of jail free" card, and the prison being her daughter.

"Wow, the attorney general. I thought we were only having a dinner with your parents," Max said as a small bead of sweat inched its way down the side of his face.

I gritted my teeth, unhappy that my parents were experts at breaking people.

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