Page 92 of Flame True

“Hello.”

“Nick, come get your girl,” Erik said.

“What do you mean? Mulberry is here.”

“No. Mulberry is at Lush with a group. She’s drawing a crowd.”

“Fuck. I’m on my way.”

Nick ran down the hall, pushed open the door and threw the blankets off her bed to discover two pillows. “Don’t let her leave.”

“You got it,” Erik said.

* * *

Nick struggled to take slow deep breaths and not break the speed laws as he drove toward the upscale nightclub.

He clenched the steering wheel.

She lied to him.

Obviously, she lied to him and snuck out of the house like a teenager.

Nick bit the inside of his jaw. When had she made these plans? How had he let his guard down enough to let his charge slip past him? Because he had been taken in by her.

She fit in his life too much. It threw him off his game. He was supposed to be her pretend boyfriend, but the truth was, she was his pretend girlfriend and being so made the life he didn’t think he wanted a comfortable fit.

His parents talked to him as a valued person and not with terse aloofness; his sister consulted him. Mamie sent him emails and her old recipes. As the weeks went on, Nick realized he liked the feeling. He didn’t think he wanted this life that was set up for him, but it wasn’t awful. Mulberry had come into his life acting, but he’s the one who stepped right into the role meant for him.

But why did she sneak out? Maybe there was someone else that she didn’t come clean with, and she was meeting him at the club.

The upscale club had no line to get in and bouncers who held the frosted, wooden doors open to him. Inside, the gold and crystal chandler hung in the lobby. To his left was the bar. To the right was the crowded dance floor, with spotlights hitting the floor in time with the music. Around the room, there was beautiful plush furniture with pedestal tables. But he ignored the décor and the elegantly clad people and spotted Erik descending the stairs to his left.

“Where is she?”

“You’ll see her,” Erik pointed with his chin.

“God.”

“Some singers decided not to go on stage because they didn’t get paid last time. A girl in Mulberry’s group started to go up on stage, but the owner yelled that they couldn’t, so they moved the tables together and started dancing. They might be discreet, but there is always media here. Yeah, I couldn’t stop her; it would have made too much of a scene.”

Nick gritted his teeth. “I’m about to make one.

“With the way you’re dressed, you already have.”

Nick curled his fists, feeling so damn ridiculous in his grey sweatpants and t-shirt.

Everyone else was dressed for the Oscars.

He didn’t give a damn. He charged through the crowd, stopping at the pedestal tables at the front of the room.

Holy fuck, she looked amazing. Her hips rolled seductively, her arms above her head, her long hair flowing. Her sleek blue dress hugged every curve as she danced in a slow circle on the table.

Stopping her mid-turn, he reached up, grabbing her wrist.

“Hello, Nick! You’ve come to join our protest.”

“Some protest,” Nick mumbled. “Come with me, now.”

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