Chapter 22

Irolled over onto my back, pulling her along with me. She let out a soft sigh, curling into my side as I wrapped an arm around her.

"Yeah, we should probably head out," I murmured noncommittally. The idea of leaving this room, of leaving this moment behind us, was not appealing at all.

I studied her face, tracing the curve of her cheekbone with my thumb, admiring the flush on her cheeks and the satisfied glow in her eyes. She was beautiful, a tantalizing sight that had my chest tightening with an unfamiliar emotion. My fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on her bare skin, getting lost in the softness of her. I felt the rhythm of her heartbeat beneath my touch, matching the tempo of my own.

"I wish we didn't have to go," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah," I breathed out, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Her words echoed my sentiments exactly. I would have given anything to stay here with her, cocooned in this bubble where it was just the two of us.

With a sigh, I reluctantly disentangled myself from her, the cool air of the room brushing against our heated skin. I slid out of bed and began to gather our scattered clothing, a smile playing on my lips as I saw the state of disarray we'd left them in.

"Archer," she called from behind me, a teasing lilt in her voice that made me turn to face her. She was propped up on one elbow, completely unashamed of her nudity. Her hair was splayed out across the pillow in tousled waves and her lips were swollen from our kisses.

"Yeah?" I asked, my voice husky from our recent activities.

"Was it—I mean, did I?—"

I understood what she was asking. I leaned down and kissed her. "You were amazing. I would love to stay here with you all night, but for one, I'm sure your body is probably not ready for that, and two, this party is critical to the success of our fundraiser."

She sighed. "I know. It's worth it. But I'll be thinking of this all night."

We both got dressed, and I helped her zip up, my hands lingering for a moment before dropping down. She turned to me, a soft smile on her lips. "We better get going."

I left the key on the table and walked her to my car. We were a little late, but I didn't think anyone was going to notice. I drove out to my parents' house, hoping I could just avoid running into them altogether.

"Wow," Mary Ellen gasped. "Holy shit. When you said money, I don't think I really understood how much."

I looked up at the house and could understand why she thought it was imposing. I pulled my car up to the valet and quickly got out. I walked around to help her out of the car.

She was fussing with her dress.

"You look good," I said. "You don't have to fidget. You're beautiful."

Together, we walked up to the mammoth front door of my family's estate. This was my world, where luxury and privilege collided in a whirlwind of opulence and expectation. But seeing it through her eyes, I wondered how it must appear to someone who wasn't born into it.

The butler greeted us with a nod. Mary Ellen's hand was in mine, holding tight. We stepped inside, the grandeur of the entrance hall stretching out before us. Her eyes widened in awe.

"Holy crap," she whispered.

"Just take a deep breath," I told her.

"Easy for you to say," she murmured, shifting nervously on her feet as she took in the mansion.

"Just remember," I whispered. "Rich people's houses have bathrooms too."

She laughed. "In case I have to throw up?"

"No, I'm saying there's nothing special about people with money. The fanciest billionaire in the world has embarrassed themselves on a toilet at least once in their life."

"Wow, that does weirdly make me feel more comfortable," she said, brow furrowed. "Thanks."

I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, pulling her closer as we ventured deeper into the mansion. A handful of my parents' friends were milling around the vast ballroom in the east wing. They had glasses of champagne in their hands and laughter in their voices. They all turned at once when we entered, their haughty smiles instantly lighting up as they spotted me.

I could feel their judgment. I kept my hand on hers and continued toward the backyard where the party was in full swing. Would I be able to avoid my family all night? It seemed unlikely. The prospect of introducing Mary Ellen to my family made me uneasy. There was no telling how they might react.

"This looks like a wedding, not a birthday party," Mary Ellen remarked, her eyes scanning the scene before us. "This is like a celebration for a king."

I chuckled, a wry smile playing on my lips. "My family doesn't do anything small," I replied, gesturing toward the sprawling gathering. "And in this house, Murray is a king. Rather, a prince that will inherit the throne."

"What about you?" she asked.

"I'm the black sheep," I muttered.

There was a bar by the pool complete with several bartenders. Several tents had been erected around the backyard. I could smell the catered food, tacos if I wasn't mistaken. I knew that was Murray's choice. My mother probably fought tooth and nail against that. One of the tents had a live band in the corner, and the dance floor in front of them was filled with guests dancing.

I spotted my brother surrounded by a group of friends. As we approached, most of them dispersed, leaving only Murray standing there with a welcoming smile.

"Archer, you made it," Murray greeted me warmly. "Grab some tacos. They're legit. Mom was pissed, but even she ate four of them." His eyes flickered with curiosity as he glanced at Mary Ellen. "And who's this vision?"

"This is Mary Ellen," I said with a proud smile. "Mary Ellen, this is my little brother."

Mary Ellen nodded. "Happy birthday, little brother."

"It's nice to meet you, Mary Ellen," Murray said before looking at me. "I didn't know you were seeing anyone."

"I am," I replied. "And she's special to me. We're working together to save her library."

Murray's expression shifted. "Save her library? Like in her family's mansion? I know a great shelf guy."

"No, like a real library," I said, hating how out of touch my rich family was. "A building for the community to get books. You know, a regular fucking library."

"This is why you asked them for money?" Murray asked, looking at me like he was impressed. "I could have sworn it was for gambling debts."

Mary Ellen looked at me with confusion.

"I don't gamble, you dick," I said, shaking my head. "But yeah, that's why I asked. Since that didn't work, we're doing it on our own. We're looking to drum up support."

"Is that why you're here, then?" Murray asked, his tone serious.

I flashed Murray an easy smile. "That, and to celebrate you, you old bastard," I replied with a laugh, hoping to lighten the mood. "I see a few gray hairs already."

Murray chuckled. "Then you better get your eyes checked, older brother." I could see a tendril of skepticism in his eyes. "Well, let's get a drink," he said, slapping me on the back.

"I can have one, but I'm driving," I said.

"Want a shot?" I asked Mary Ellen.

She wrinkled her nose. "I don't know."

"New things," I said.

Just those two little words made her cheeks turn red. She nodded. "Sure. I'll do a shot."

Murray ordered three shots of tequila from one of the bartenders, who quickly prepared them with a practiced hand. He slid the glasses across the bar toward us. We each claimed one, holding them aloft for a traditional toast.

"Happy birthday," I said.

"Happy birthday," Mary Ellen said softly.

The tequila burned my throat, but Mary Ellen took it like a champ. Her eyes watered slightly, but she let out an excited giggle afterward. There was something about her spirit that was contagious. Even Murray seemed to soften around the edges as he watched her pull a face at the aftershock of the potent liquor.

Then came the elegant, yet intimidating figure of my mother. Her gaze swept over us, and her eyes narrowed on mine. Clearly, she hadn't expected me to accept the invitation either. Then she caught sight of Mary Ellen, and surprise flickered on her face. "Archer," she said, her voice as smooth as a dagger and twice as sharp.

"Mother," I replied, calmly cradling my glass.

"I see you've brought a guest," she remarked, barely hidden curiosity gleaming in her eyes.

"Yes, this is Mary Ellen," I introduced, briefly placing a protective hand on her shoulder. "She's helping me with a project we're working on."

My mother's finely arched eyebrows rose slightly. "Oh?"

"Mary Ellen, this is my mother and that would be my father walking over now."

"I see you wasted no time finding the liquor," my father said with his usual disdain.

"Nice to see you too," I muttered.

"Leave it alone, Dad," Murray said. "It's a party."

Their disapproval simmered beneath the surface. Unease crept over me.

Introducing Mary Ellen to my parents felt like stepping into a minefield, unsure of where the next explosion would come from. But she handled it with grace.

"Hello," she said with a dazzling smile. "You have a lovely home and a slightly less lovely son, but I suppose he's not too hard on the eyes."

I almost choked. Murray smiled with amusement.

"She's quite charming," my father remarked, surprising me with a chuckle.

Murray and I shared a glance, both of us taken aback by our father's uncharacteristic response. It was a welcome change from the usual tension that hung between us. I wasn't sure when the last time I heard my father laugh was—not when it came to me, at least.

My mother's sigh cut through the air like a knife, her disapproval palpable as she cast a critical eye over me. "He looked better before all the tattoos," she commented, her words like a dagger to my heart. "But what's a mother to do when her son wants to look like the riffraff he was in prison with?"

The blood drained from my face, and a knot formed in the pit of my stomach. Mary Ellen's laughter echoed in my ears, but it died as quickly as it had begun, her eyes widening when she realized it wasn't a joke.

"Prison?" she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper.

I cursed inwardly, knowing that my secret was out of the bag. My mother's accusatory glare bored into me. "You didn't tell her?" my mother said, clearly surprised by my omission.

"Great," Murray sighed. "Happy birthday to me. I guess I had a few good hours. Now, it's time for it all to go to shit with family drama. Bartender!"

He walked away, leaving me and Mary Ellen to face off against my parents. I could feel Mary Ellen's shock.

"He was such a good boy until he wasn't," my mother continued, her words cutting deep. I didn't know if she was trying to destroy my night on purpose or if it just came naturally to her. "I've been hoping a girl like you would come along and make an honest man of him again, but I know that's a tall order for a mother to make. Especially when he's dishonest with you." She grabbed my father's hands. "Let's go. I think these two have things to talk about." She pulled him away, leaving me standing there feeling like a criminal.

My mother's words suffocated me with shame and regret. No matter what I did, I would always be tainted by my past, constantly reminded of the mistakes I had made. She was never going to let me live it down. I was pretty sure she would be happier if I tattooed convict on my forehead.

"Is that true?" Mary Ellen asked quietly. "Were you in prison?"

I could only nod, the shame slamming into me in waves, threatening to drown me in the sea of my past mistakes.

"Yes," I admitted, my voice barely audible as I turned to face her. "Yes, it's true."