46. Ways to save Nathan from his parents

FORTY-SIX

#4 help him fake his own deth bad idea

"You're sure you don't want me to come with you?" Nathan asked.

I shook my head as I shoved a few pieces of clothes into the backpack I was taking with me back to New York. "I won't be long. Just overnight, and then I'll be back here before you know it."

The story Xavier had told me about his family in Paris had been haunting me all night long. Frankie had always called him her shark—he knew how to trap people with their own games, circle them until they were weak, and then attack. He was ruthless and knew this kind of upper crust world better than I ever could.

And, so, the next morning, after I'd put in my second performance of "oblivious girlfriend his parents hate," I'd gone for a long walk on the property in order to call Frankie and Xavier and ask for their advice.

Xavier had listened to the situation. Asked some key questions. And quickly helped me figure out exactly what to do.

It seemed so easy. I wasn't entirely convinced it would work. People like me weren't supposed to be able to fix things like this with a quick conversation. We were supposed to struggle.

"You have more to offer than you could ever imagine," Frankie had told me quietly once Xavier had gotten off the phone. "People have underestimated you your entire life. Use it to your advantage. Surprise them now. Don't wait for their respect when you can take it for yourself."

Her words buoyed me—maybe because I'd so rarely heard them from one of my siblings. But that, I decided, was exactly what I would do.

I still hadn't told Nathan the plan. Not because I didn't want him to know, but because my man was one of the most truthful people on the planet, and this particular endeavor required a bit of deviousness. He was never going to best his mother in this kind of game. He needed me to play for him.

I'd tell him when I could. But first, I needed to know if my plan would work at all.

I had to be in New York anyway for my first post-operative appointment, which gave me the perfect opportunity to put my plan into motion. But there was another reason for my cloak-and-dagger tactics. I wasn't willing to be the reason Nathan lost his entire relationship with his family. If he decided to end things, I'd support him. But mostly, I wanted it to be his decision. Not to be roped into a life with people unless he wanted it. And not to walk away because I'd alienated him beyond belief.

I zipped up my bag, then popped up onto my tiptoes to give him a kiss. "I should probably leave soon to get to the airport on time."

Nathan rewarded me by grabbing my waist and throwing me back on the bed. "We don't have to leave for at least fifteen minutes. And I know exactly what to do with them."

Five hours later, I stood nervously outside an enormous townhouse on Seventy-Seventh Street, a mere block from the Natural History Museum, hesitating in front of the carved front door.

The post-op appointment had gone well. Stitches were dissolving, everything was healing, and I was cleared for increased PT for both the meniscus and the tendon. From Mt. Sinai, I walked directly uptown to the address Xavier had given me without a stitch of pain in my knee.

"I'm not going to make your case for you," he'd told me yesterday. "To start, I don't know all the details, so I'd get torn apart. Eric and Jane are both former lawyers like your brother, so they'll pay attention to every little detail and then ask for them. Good people, but shrewd. They'll give you a listen, but you have to be honest. Don't lie about a thing. And keep your story straight."

I gulped. It's not that I wanted to lie.

It was one of those places where only very rich New Yorkers could live, and Frankie and Matthew had assured me these people were some of the richest.

I knew who they were, of course. Anyone who followed Page Six knew who the de Vrieses were. A year ago, they'd caused a huge gossip scandal when Eric de Vries had returned to his family fold after ten years away…and quickly got married to a quirky half-Korean lawyer who looked more like a rock star than an attorney.

My connection to them was a bit closer. Xavier had gone to college with Eric once upon a time, but even better, his cousin was married to my brother. I'd actually met them briefly at Nina and Matthew's wedding last fall. At the time, I'd been wallowing in depression over my recent knee surgery, so I had barely remembered their names. Right now, I wished I'd paid a little more attention to the polite conversation we'd shared during the cocktail hour.

I sighed and raised my hand. No going back now. This wasn't for me. This was for Isla. This was for Nathan.

Before my fist hit the wood, the door swung open, and I was greeted by an Asian woman in cat-eyed glasses, whose dark hair was dyed blue and green on one half of her head.

I had to smile. "Jane?" I asked.

She hadn't even said anything, and I was already put at ease. Jane de Vries looked more like my friends who worked in performance spaces like Casper's or frequented my dance classes downtown than a socialite and billionaire's wife.

Immediately, she nodded. "Sorry to scare you by opening the door. I wasn't lurking, I promise. Well, actually I sort of was. The baby's asleep and it's absolute murder trying to get that thing down. I don't know who said that the first few months of a baby's life are bliss because these have been the worst in my life. You must be Matthew's sister, Joni. We met last October at the wedding, didn't we?"

I nodded. "Yeah, but he has a lot of sisters. I—thanks for meeting with me."

"Oh, we'd do just about anything for your family. Your brother saved our lives. Honestly, he feels like my brother, too, at this point."

I smiled. I didn't really know anything about that. Matthew had always been tight-lipped about his cases as a DA, and while I knew he'd been involved in the big trial involving the de Vrieses, he had never said much about it.

"Come in." Jane ushered me into the house, then closed the door firmly behind me. "Eric's upstairs making sure the baby's asleep, but he'll be down in a second."

"How old is…the baby?" I'd almost said "it."

Jane grinned. "Three months going on thirteen. I swear, if she's going to scream this loud because she doesn't like her pacifier, I don't know what's going to happen when I tell her she's not allowed to wear shorts that show her ass cheeks."

I giggled, enjoying Jane's candor. "Yeah, that could be a problem."

I followed her into a great room just off the main foyer of the townhouse. It wasn't at all what I expected. Xavier had money like the de Vrieses, inherited from generations of family wealth. But the pictures of his estates in England were so formal, even more so than Huntwell Farm. Jane and Eric's home was modern, full of eclectic art and vintage furniture that was as comfortable as it was interesting.

"How is Nina doing?" Jane asked. "I hear she's on bed rest, poor girl."

"Due any day, I think. I'm pretty sure they're in their own little world up there. Matthew hasn't been to New York since she went on bed rest."

I wished I could have told her more. Between two months of wallowing and the fact that Matthew had been holed up with Nina for months, making sure she didn't get up for anything but the bathroom, I hadn't seen my brother since he helped Nonna move out.

"Poor thing," Jane said. "That last month is murder. Can I get you a drink? I was going to make myself some green tea."

I nodded. "Thanks, that would be great."

"Make yourself comfortable."

She disappeared into a kitchen on the other side of the floor, leaving me to sit on one of the couches and observe the rest of the room. I was up almost immediately, however, when I spotted a small painting on the other side that drew my eye.

I didn't know enough about art to identify the artist, but it was definitely an original made of gold and paint, a curious panting of a couple embracing, one of whom was wearing ballet slippers.

"Like it?"

I startled, then turned to find Jane's husband, Eric de Vries, entering the room.

Like his wife, he didn't exactly look like a billionaire CEO. When I'd met him before, he'd worn a sleek, tailored suit that matched the immaculate grooming of a man of his station. Right now, he was in jeans and a T-shirt, as rumpled as any new father might be.

Then he smiled exactly like my sister-in-law, and I was immediately more comfortable.

"Hi," I said. "It's nice to see you again. Thank you for having me." I gestured toward the painting. "Who painted this?"

"Oh, that's a Gustav Klimt. A gift from my late grandmother to Jane. Glad you like it."

"My boyfriend has one kind of like this. Well, sort of. Just in that, it's a ballerina painting too."

"A Degas?" Eric gave a whistle. "Impressive. Hunt must appreciate art."

I smiled. "I know he likes that one, anyway."

"I've met Dr. Hunt a few times," Eric said as I followed him back to the seating area, where I sat on one large couch around an enormous fireplace, and he sat at another. "It was hard to get a read on him, but he seemed decent."

"Nathan tends to be kind of shy," I admitted. "Well, maybe shy is the wrong word. But he doesn't say much at first."

Eric nodded. "There's something to be said for that, honestly. Especially given the fact that his brother talks too damn much."

I assumed he was talking about Carrick. And honestly, I had to agree.

Jane reentered, carrying a tray with a teapot and some cups. Eric immediately got up to take it from her, but she turned away.

"Jane—"

"I'm not an invalid, Petri. And since I'm no longer pregnant, you can let me carry things again, all right?"

Eric grumbled at his wife's seemingly harsh words, but the sparkle in his eyes told me he kind of liked them. I liked her too. Theirs seemed to be a marriage of opposites—him the staid, solid type, her the brash, outspoken one.

It gave me more hope for my own relationship than I wanted to admit.

"So, give us the goods," Jane said as she poured everyone a cup of the steaming green tea. "When Xavier called to beg an audience—I still can't believe he used that term. He's so British, I can't stand it—my interest was piqued. And, of course, when we found out you were Matthew's little sister, it was a no-brainer."

I accepted the tea and took a sip. Definitely a step up from Lipton's.

"Well, it's like this," I said. "I have a story to tell. And then a favor to ask."

Fifteen minutes later, Eric and Jane had heard my story. Twice.

Xavier wasn't kidding when he said they would pull apart every little detail. My brother, also a lawyer, had the same annoying habit.

"So, they really think controlling this poor girl is the secret to controlling their own son?" Eric said.

I nodded. "To them, Isla is just a pawn. And Nathan would do anything for her. He's loyal like that. More integrity than pretty much anyone on the planet."

"That's…fucking unbelievable." Jane's blue and green hair waved around her face as she shook her head.

"Not completely unbelievable," Eric remarked dryly. "Lillian Hunt isn't related to Celeste de Vries, is she? Or a John Carson?"

I shook my head, a bit confused. "I don't think so. I mean, I guess it's not impossible, but I doubt it."

"Former family members with similar conniving traits," Jane explained wryly. "People who would probably give your future mother-in-law some lessons in duplicity."

"Oh, she's not my?—"

"Just anticipating the inevitable," Jane said with a wink.

Eric chuckled. "Sorry. She tends to do that."

"Oh, stop. We both saw how Dr. McDreamy was looking at Joni at the Sinai gala, remember? And so did everyone else there. I probably heard ten different socialites moaning about the fact that Nathan Hunt was finally off the market."

Eric rolled his eyes. "She tends to eavesdrop too."

He was rewarded with an elbow to the gut, which he quickly captured with one hand before tugging his wife close to mutter something into her ear that made her blush.

"Got that, pretty girl?" he finished.

Her cheeks looked like apples.

I found myself missing Nathan more than ever.

"Well, we heard the story," Jane said. "And I have to tell you, I don't take kindly to rich, uptight assholes thinking they have the right to run other people's lives. Eric and I have both dealt with enough of that garbage to last five lifetimes. Your man doesn't deserve it either, and neither does your friend Isla."

She turned to Eric, and they shared another meaningful look.

Eric turned to me, gray eyes suddenly like storm clouds. "Jane's right. How can we help?"

Half an hour later, I left the de Vrieses feeling like I was walking on air. Xavier had been understating their potential interest, and in the end, they hadn't just agreed to my proposal but had added some other things to it. I had done the right thing—I knew it. All I had to do was tell Nathan and his parents, and maybe, just maybe, Isla would be under Nathan's care much sooner than we thought. And he could be free to buy that place in Westchester. Or stay in the city. Or do whatever he wanted because it was his choice, not anyone else's.

I couldn't fucking wait.

I rounded the corner of Seventy-Seventh just after picking up a slice of pizza, intending to make an early night of it before I flew back to Virginia in the morning.

As I jabbered to Nathan on the phone, it was everything I could do not to tell him, though I knew surprise was essential for all of this to work. His parents had to believe he had nothing to do with it. It was the only way they might forgive him.

"I miss you," I told him openly as I walked toward our building. "I don't know how I'm going to sleep tonight without you."

"Probably well," Nathan said. "It seems like I crowd you a bit in my sleep." Then, a few moments later, "I miss you too."

I sighed. So this was what it felt like to be with someone who didn't care what anyone else thought. A man who didn't care about hiding his emotions, who just said what he thought, who loved you well.

I liked it. I loved it. A lot.

"You'll pick me up at the airport?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Any chance we could find an empty field someplace?"

There was a bit of a pause. "Why?"

I smirked. "Because I've always had a fantasy of screwing my boyfriend in the driver's seat, and I don't want us to run off the road."

Another long pause. "I'm sure we could find a way to make that happen."

"Then it's a sex date, Dr. Hunt. Right when I get back." Then I grew serious. "I love you, you know. Like so, so much. More than maybe anyone."

Nathan waited a long time to answer, but I knew it was because he was processing the information, not because he didn't like what I'd said.

Finally, he responded. "I think that's the first time you've ever said it before I did."

I nodded in agreement, though he couldn't see me. "I feel it, though. All the time."

"You should say it, then," he said.

I smiled. "Rule Number Five applies to me too?"

"Rule Number Five applies to everyone."

"Well, then, I love you like crazy, and I can't wait to see you again and maybe one day get married and have your babies and do all the other things people who love each other do."

The words came out in a rush—words I'd never come close to feeling for anyone else, words that might freak him out, but words I wanted to say.

Because Rule Number Five was the most important of all.

There was one final pause. Then, "I'm sure we could make that happen too."

My entire being glowed.

"Sounds good," I said softly.

"Good night, Joni."

"Good night, babe," I said, then put my phone away.

"Good night, Sunshine."

I stopped at the sound of a voice that erased all the warmth in my body.

I turned to find Shawn Vamos walking down the street, looking tired with dark, shadowed eyes and an unshaven face.

He leered. "Where you been, baby? I've been looking for you."

His voice slithered over me like a snake, making every part of my body recoil.

I backed away, keenly aware of what had happened the last time he cornered me in this exact spot. And this time, I didn't have Nathan on his way down to rescue me. "I don't know what you want, but you need to leave. My boyfriend is on his way down again."

"Your boyfriend is in Virginia," Shawn spat back. "You're a shitty fuckin' liar, Sunshine. Always were."

Fear skittered up my skin, leaving goose bumps everywhere in its wake.

"Go away, Shawn," I said as my back reached the brick of the building. "Just…please. Go."

"Let me think about that…no."

I turned to run, but he was too fast. I had almost turned the corner when I was grabbed by the nape of my neck and slammed against the brick while Shawn shoved his body against my back in a sick parody of love.

The hand at my nape slid around until his entire arm was wrapped around my neck.

"Shawn." I could barely speak; his hold was so tight. "What are you doing?"

"You didn't really think I was going to leave you alone after what happened with your boyfriend, did you?" he asked.

Before I could answer, he hauled me across the street toward a white van. The back doors opened up as we approached.

"No," I said. "No, no, no!"

I kicked my legs out wildly as Shawn shoved me toward the van. "Let me go!"

But my voice was dampened by the hand at my throat, my legs so much weaker than normally after recent surgery.

"Shut up and get in."

Shawn hurled me into the van, where two other men grabbed me roughly, blindfolded and gagged me, and secured my hand with zip ties before tossing me into a corner.

Vaguely, I heard the sounds of another person joining us, then the doors to the van slamming shut.

"I got her," Shawn barked. "Let's fucking go."