Page 26 of Fierce Love (Tucker Billionaires)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Hollyn

Fourteen years ago

“ I ’ve never lived in a house,” I say as we drive down the long laneway to his place that’s perched near ocean cliffs.

“What would your dream house be?” Nate asks.

He asked about the necklace when we got in the car, after he commented on my bracelet and earrings.

When I told him the clasp broke, he offered to get it fixed.

I asked for the receipt, said I’d do it myself, and the whole time I was sure he’d realize I was lying, think I’d pawned the necklace for money or that I didn’t value what he’d given me.

But so far, he hasn’t detected anything odd in my behavior, hasn’t sensed my frazzled nerves.

“There’s a house near Victor’s Campground,” I say. “On the other side of the national park.”

“The gated two-story with the ocean view?”

“It doesn’t look like much from the road because it’s so far away with so many trees, but when I saw it from the water…

” I trail off, unable to adequately explain how much I loved it.

The house reminded me of photos I’d seen of antebellum houses in the United States.

“The double balcony and the huge pillars—every time I look at it, I just think it looks like home.” I let out a self-conscious laugh.

“Why would I even think that? Stupid, right?”

“Why would it be stupid?”

“I would have to win the lottery to afford that house in my lifetime.” Which reminds me of the comment my mother made, and I shake my head, realizing I need a new topic. I’d never want Nate to think he was my lottery. “I’m sure your house is also amazing. Have you always lived here?”

“As the story goes, my mother didn’t like the original Tucker home that was here, so she had it torn down.

Built this instead. That was back when my father ascribed to the ‘happy wife, happy life’ mantra.

He outgrew that real fast, by all accounts.

” We emerge from the tree cover to loop into the circular drive, and I can’t help drawing in a sharp breath.

It’s the biggest house I’ve ever seen up close.

It’s probably a mansion or a palace or something much grander than house by definition.

“That’s what one hundred thousand square feet looks like, which is technically bigger than the palace…

according to my mother.” He shrugs and parks his car next to the other high-end vehicles sitting outside the spacious garages.

There are six garage doors. Six . The front entrance looks like an expensive, luxury hotel, not a house.

Other than when we went shopping, this is the first time Nate’s level of wealth has felt truly staggering.

We spend so much time in my neighborhood or at the campground that I’m not sure I fully realized how much money his family has.

Of course, I knew —everyone on the island knows —but that’s not the same as understanding.

Staff greet us at the door, warm and friendly to Nate, assessing me. I never asked him if he’s brought a girl home before, but their behavior makes me wonder.

Once we’re in the entrance, they take my clutch, and I peer past the wide staircase to the ocean beyond. The ceilings are extremely tall, and the windows are expansive and all-encompassing. As soon as we pass the staircase, cliffs and ocean dominate the view.

“I can’t believe you live like this,” I say, almost breathless with the beauty of the house and the land and the fact that Nate is growing up here. “I don’t think I’d ever leave.”

He lets out a tight chuckle. “The view is spectacular, and the house is huge.”

Heels click on the marble floor, and I turn to see Maren and Sawyer coming toward us in pretty summer dresses, their hair and makeup done.

“Mom insisted we dress up. Calista, the newest nanny, is still upstairs trying to wrangle Ava and Gage into something other than pajamas,” Sawyer says with an eye roll. “Both of them have decided that today is opposite day—whatever my mom wants, they’ll do the opposite. Dinner should be fun.”

“At least it’ll keep Mom distracted and gritting her teeth over them instead of anything else,” Maren says, a false bright smile on her face.

“Since they’re being such little devils, Calista will be forced to eat with us, too, so Mom can shoot daggers at her for being unable to control Gage and Ava instead of at other people. ”

Nate slides his hand into mine and squeezes, and I realize he’s nervous.

Despite everything he’s told me the last few weeks about his mom’s bark being worse than her bite, that stories about her are exaggerated, despite the comments his sisters have made when we’ve run into them, this is the first time I’ve doubted him.

“All right,” a female voice says from the top of the staircase, her tone echoing through the space below. “I don’t care what you have to do to get clothes on those children, but it needs to be done. No one is going to the dinner table in pajamas. Tuckers don’t do that.”

Heels click across the floor, and the three siblings exchange a loaded glance that I can’t quite interpret.

“Mother,” Nate says, turning toward Celia Tucker, “this is—”

“Hollyn Davis,” Celia drawls, and one edge of her lips tips up, which reminds me of the expression my mother wore earlier. Two women used to getting what they want, whatever the cost. “It’s lovely to finally meet you.” But her tone doesn’t make it sound lovely.

“Thank you so much for having me,” I say, confused for a beat about whether I should be curtseying or something similar, like I would for the royals. The way she carries herself is so different from Nate, who seems so normal in comparison.

Jonathan appears from the bar area with a tumbler in his hand, and I wonder if he was there the whole time.

“There you are,” Celia says, a hint of exasperation in her tone. “Go upstairs and sort out your children.”

“My children?” He raises his eyebrows. “You wanted them.”

“I wanted babies. These preteens are a nightmare. Children should come with warning labels.”

Jonathan approaches me and extends his hand. “Jonathan Tucker. Apologies for the chaotic start. Our two youngest aren’t well trained.”

From what Nate has told me, it’s unlikely they ever will be.

Nate says they inherited a version of the “don’t give a fuck” gene that skipped Nate, Sawyer, and Maren.

According to Nate, the three oldest know where the lines are and generally keep within them, but the two youngest gleefully run straight through the lines as though they don’t exist.

“Oh, it’s…” I give Nate a quick glance, unsure how to answer. “Families are complicated.”

“Yes,” Jonathan says, sipping his drink. “I’m sure you’d have learned that lesson well by now.”

“Dad,” Nate says, his voice tight.

“No point in avoiding the obvious, son. The Davis sisters have been well-known around this island for a long time, and while Verna might have settled down, I think Mickie’s only gotten worse.”

There’s nothing I can say to that. He’s not wrong.

“Dinner is served.” A woman in a black-and-white uniform appears out of nowhere, and I wonder where dinner is being served. The table overlooking the ocean doesn’t seem to be it, and the open-plan kitchen to our right is dim and empty.

“There’s a formal entertainment area,” Nate says, his lips suddenly close to my ear. “Follow me.”

A formal entertainment area. Makes sense. What else do you do with one hundred thousand square feet of space?

We cross the kitchen, living room, and family-sized table into an adjacent room that’s been set with formal place settings. The table is angled so that everyone can have an ocean view, and the sun is just starting to set. It’s breathtaking.

“Oh wow,” I whisper.

“Best time of day,” Nate agrees, letting me take in the view for a beat while everyone else finds their seats. The table is huge, but it looks like only one section of it, the one with the best views, has been set.

He draws me over to two chairs looking outside, and I slide into the one beside him.

There’s a clatter from the other room, and two dark-haired younger children practically fall into the room.

They aren’t in pajamas, but Gage’s dress shirt and Ava’s dress look as though they’ve been through a war, wrinkled and disheveled.

A young woman follows behind them, out of breath, and Celia glances at her, disdain clear in her expression.

“We’ll need to work on that before we host another dinner.” Her tone is directed solely at the nanny, which seems unfair to me.

For the rest of dinner, Jonathan and Celia mostly ignore me, talking to each other, admonishing Ava or Gage over something, or commenting on an event one of the other children are involved in.

The meal, a lamb roast with vegetables I can’t name, is the best food I’ve ever tasted, and I wish, more than anything, that I had a big-enough appetite to eat more than one helping or that it was possible to ask for the leftovers.

Do they even eat it or throw out the excess?

After dinner, Maren and Sawyer take phone calls and disappear from the table, Calista practically drags the children back toward the staircase, and Jonathan tells Nate he needs his opinion on something in his office for a minute.

“Are you going to be okay?” Nate asks. The table is empty. His mother has disappeared somewhere as well.

“I’ll go out on the balcony. Take in the view. I’ll be fine.”

He squeezes my hand and then rises to follow his dad. I wander out the huge sliding doors that are thrown wide to the ocean breeze. There isn’t a lot of backyard before the cliff face, and I wonder whether anyone ever worried about the kids going over. There isn’t a fence.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Celia says from behind me, and I jump, startled. “A summer fling isn’t the type of girl someone like Nathaniel is meant to marry.”

Much like when my mother comes after me, my voice leaves me. Instead of defending myself or defending us , I say nothing.

“You don’t think you’re the first girl Nathaniel’s brought home that he wanted to save, do you? My son does love wounded things, and you can’t get much more wounded on this island than a Davis girl, now, can you?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper, and I genuinely don’t. I’m sure, based on my neighborhood, there are people who have it rougher than me. I’ve got Aunt Verna, and some people don’t even have that.

“He has such a big, open heart. Falls in and out of love so easily.”

Unlike my closed heart that’s never let any relative or boy or friend in too far—my Aunt Verna is it, and even the love I feel for her is conflicted by her close connection to my mother, whom I hate.

“I just wouldn’t want you to think this is something it’s not. His father and I are tolerating this dalliance because girls like you never last, and with him going to California for school, and you to New York on a scholarship… not exactly destined to last, is it?”

She must not know that Nate already floated the idea of changing schools after his first year.

California is a family tradition, but Nate said he’d break it for me.

Assuming his mother isn’t lying and Nate hasn’t said something similar to every other girl he’s dated.

I close my eyes at the notion, unable to believe it’s true, even as a grain of uncertainty sneaks in.

“He’ll go off to college, and he’ll meet a girl who shares his values, who’ll suit this lifestyle, who’ll understand him in ways you never can.” She spreads her arms wide. “I bet you can’t even fathom this life.”

I can’t . But this life doesn’t quite feel like Nate either, at least, not the Nate I know.

And maybe that’s the point. How well do I know him after a few weeks? How long can you occupy a corner of someone’s life and feel like you know the whole person? We’ve avoided confronting his wealth, which makes me wonder if he knows, deep down, that we can’t work, won’t work.

“Clinging on to a dream that’ll never happen isn’t good for anyone,” Celia says.

“I think Nate feels like it will happen,” I say, gathering the tiniest bit of courage.

“Oh, he might,” she says with a little laugh.

“He is a dreamer. But you and I? We’re more practical.

We live in this world, and part of that is realizing that everyone can be bought, has something they deeply desire.

” She smirks as though my agreement is a given.

“The Davis family have always had a price. When you’ve got yours, you know where to find me. ”

“Everything okay out here?” Nate asks from behind us, his tone cautious, and I can tell he must not have heard enough to be sure.

“Fine,” I say, giving him a half smile. “I was just saying goodbye to your mother.”

“It was so lovely of you to join us,” Celia says. “A truly unique experience.”

But from her tone, I can tell she means for me to take the opposite from her comment—that these dinners are routine, that girls like me come and go often.

A little later as we’re leaving the mansion, Nate’s hand slides along the small of my back, and I resist sinking into the feeling, drawing closer to him.

“Is everything okay?” he asks. “Did my mother say something terrible?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m just tired.” And that’s true, at least. Exhaustion settles over me, a blanket I can never completely remove.

“I’ll take you home,” Nate says without criticism or hesitation. He takes my hand and draws it to his lips, and I savor the feel of him, close and secure.

The minutes tick between us on the drive back to my apartment, and I try to live in each one because after tonight, I know our time together is limited, slipping away with this endless spring and summer.

Even if I’m not one of a string of others, his mother’s other points are valid.

I could never live the life Nate does—I wouldn’t even know how to.

And if I could, I’d constantly be looking over my shoulder for my parents, for their outstretched hands, their schemes leaking into the crevices of our life.

If I didn’t poison his life, they would.

He can’t help who he is, and neither can I.