But I wasn’t smart. When it came to Nina de Vries, I was the dumbest man in New York. All she had to do was crook her little finger, and I’d come running.
After all…what more did I really have to lose?
“No,” she said. “I wouldn’t mind.”
Relief flooded me. “Well, all right then. I guess I’ll see you there.”
I turned toward the other end of the bar with every intent of using other patrons to make my cool exit.
“But, Matthew?”
I looked back. “Yeah, doll?”
The nickname made the side of her luscious mouth twitch, but she didn’t smile.
“You’re not forgiven. Not even close.”
Maybe not, I thought to myself. But for the first time in months, I found myself able to see a possibility of a bright side. Maybe the fact that she was bringing it up meant that it could change. Maybe there was hope after all.
Chapter Five
Nina
It had been a sudden decision to change the color and style I’d worn essentially for at least a decade. Jane and I had been trying to decide what to wear for the Christmas party she and Eric were throwing. While she was mostly concerned with making her debut as a budding designer amid the upper echelons of New York society, I was trying unsuccessfully not to hear the sound of Matthew’s voice every time I held up a dress in front of the antique twin mirrors mounted in the guest-room closet.
“Everything I own is white,” I complained once I had cycled through every piece of clothing I had taken out of my storage unit to their house. “I look like that Disney princess. The one who makes the ice in that movie Olivia loves. Frozen, I think.”
“Elsa?” Jane chuckled as she looked me over. “Actually, that’s not a bad comparison. But I think technically, she was an ice queen.” She had only laughed harder when I fixed her with a glare. “You look just like Eric when you do that, you know. And it only makes me tease him more.”
I held up a white sateen frock that was once one of my favorite pieces. It glittered with tiny mother-of-pearl beadwork that shimmered when I walked. The perfect winter white, like a snowflake.
It was very…me. Icy. Colorless. Lifeless.
Classic, doll.
With another scowl, I threw the dress on the bed. I didn’t want to be his doll right now, whether it was at a bar or in my own head. Right now, when I looked in the mirror, I saw only a woman who was played for a fool—by a charming Italian-American prosecutor, my best friend, my grandmother. Classic was fine. Icy too. But apparently they were too easy to imitate. So much that the man who swore he loved me more than anything was fooled by a few pictures.
And just like that, I was seething all over again.
“Nina, are you all right?” Jane reached out tentatively. “I’m sorry about the joke. I didn’t mean anything by it, really. You don’t look like Elsa, I swear.”
I just shook my head, swept up my purse, and started for the door. I needed to get out of there. Go…somewhere. “Do you think Eric would mind terribly if I purchased a new dress for tonight?” I immediately hated myself for even having to ask.
Jane frowned. “Nina, you don’t need his permission or mine to use your own money. That’s why he put it in your account. So you wouldn’t have to ask at all.”
“Well, if it came from you, it’s not really mine, is it?” I snapped, then wilted completely. “I’m sorry, Jane. That was unforgivable.”
Jane put her dress on the bed next to mine, albeit much more carefully than the way I’d hurled the priceless piece. Then she strode to me and placed a hand on my shoulder with a light squeeze.
“Absolutely no apologies needed,” she said firmly. “I can’t blame you for being irritated. I’d probably have destroyed this entire room by now.”
“Sometimes I feel like all of this is her punishment from beyond the grave,” I said. “Like there was some sort of test for my life, and by choosing the way I did, I failed. And she’ll never stop punishing me for it.”
Jane just looked on sympathetically. “I know I’m still relatively new to this family…but I really don’t think Celeste wanted to punish you for anything. If anything, I think she would be happy to see you becoming more independent.”
“Ha.” The sharp laugh flew out of my mouth on a bite. “By independent, do you mean wearing orange instead of black? Or smudging the pristine de Vries name with my gorgeous record?”
The hand on my shoulder rubbed more insistently. “I think she’d be impressed that you did whatever you believed was right. It took guts. Everyone knows that.”
I stared at myself in the mirrors again. Despite being of similar heights—Jane was also close to my nearly five feet, ten inches—we were polar opposites. Her hair was a deep black brown, but streaked with a few colorful riots on one side that tended to change with her moods. Right now they were aqua and green. Her gold cat-eyed glasses gleamed atop her bright hazel eyes and the slash of red she always wore on her lips. In slim black jeans, the sturdy combat boots, and the bright red top that wrapped around her torso like a snake, she was an explosion of contrast and color, daring anyone to ignore her. Meanwhile, I was as colorless as the dress I’d discarded. Between my light blonde hair, one of hundreds of white silk blouses, light gray wool pants, and the tasteful makeup designed to look as
