Iknew what was in store for me, yet I came anyway. My mother's sixty-fifth birthday party is being held at the Wainwright Hotel on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. The ballroom is decorated with a lot of flowers and gold. Fifi, my mother’s bichon frise, is allowed to roam among the guests. Nelly, one of the housekeepers, has been charged to keep an eye on Fifi and make sure no one steps on her. It’s a daunting job since the dog isn’t well-behaved. She’s already bitten four staff members, and my mom had to pay them off to make them happy. Fifi has just found me, and now she’s nipping at my shoes. That’s her way of asking me to pick her up.
“You’re going to be good?” I say, looking into her big black naughty eyes.
Her mouth is open, and she’s panting.
“All right, then.” I sweep her off the floor.
Fifi is tough. Recently, an owl tried to rumble with her, and she practically mauled the thing. I stroke the top of her head. Naughty and all, she’s my kind of cotton-ball guard dog.
I’ve been hiding in a dimly lit hallway that leads to a kitchen. The woman who’s been trying to keep me company tonight is Rain Mueller. My mother ran down her Valentine lineage to me. She’s a fifth cousin. At least Contessa was a sixth cousin.
“Good job, Fifi,” my mother says.
I narrow my eyes at Fifi’s diamond collar. My mother must have that damn tracker in it.
Tonight, Marigold Grace Valentine looks rich. Her blond hair is straightened, and she must have just gotten her face tightened or whatever she does to it, because her cheeks and forehead look swollen.
“Mother, I’m not marrying a cousin,” I say.
Her smile is unwavering. “You seem to be operating under the assumption that you have a choice.”
I jerk my head back. Wow, she’s never said that before, at least not so bluntly.
“I always have a choice,” I retort.
“Not tonight, Hercules,” she says. “It’s my birthday. Humor me by acting like the good son that I know you can be.”
I check over my shoulder to make sure only Fifi can hear us. Then I remember I’m still holding her and put her down. Fifi—always loyal to Mom above all.
“Why me?” I ask, poking my chest.
“I don’t understand the nature of your question.”
Her expression is as cool and calm as a cucumber. It’s a tactic of hers. I’m supposed to fly off the handle.And why wouldn’t I? She just confessed that she expects me to marry my cousin, whom I don’t love.Meanwhile, she is meant to remain the adult who’s in control of herself. Normally, her tactic works. If she’s in control, then I follow suit, and our confrontation vanishes into two cool heads who are doing things her way. But not tonight.
“Achilles isn’t married, and neither is Orion. They’re older than me. Why aren’t you trying to marry them off to a blood relative?”
“Who says I’m not?”
“My eyes,” I retort.
This is the part when she tries to make it seem as if I’m not seeing the full picture. But I see the full picture. And then I recall what Lilith said about the trust that’s feeding VTI, which is set up in my name.
“And why is—” I stop.
Something tells me Lilith wasn’t supposed to discover the details behind that account. She’s just so good at her job that she discovered it by accident. My mother waits for me to finish whatever I was going to say.
“You’re right,” I say instead. “Tonight belongs to you.” I pop up my elbow so that she can link arms with me.
“Now, that’s better,” she says, taking me up on my offer as she wraps her arm around mine.
Fifi prances in front of us as we rejoin the main event. A couple approaches us, and she introduces me as her most special son, which suddenly makes me question what she means by that. I’m not her favorite. Achilles is.
Special son? What does that mean?
“Nice to meet you,” I say, bowing my head, and then excuse myself.
“Don’t forget about Rain,” my mother says before I walk away. “She’s been waiting for you.”