Page 37 of Fierce Love (Tucker Billionaires)

ChapterThirty-One

Hollyn

T he thing about knowing there’s a guillotine poised above your neck is that everything in life becomes just a little bit harder.

Going to work, going to sleep, delivering a line of dialogue—even deciding what to eat for breakfast—the mental load is increased just enough to make some of those pieces feel impossible.

We’ve filmed two episodes while I’ve been waiting for the sharp slice across the back of my neck. I’m actually surprised it hasn’t come yet—from my parents, from the network because I’m not a good cohost, or from Celia Tucker.

The only bright spot has been Nate, but even his presence in the house and in my life hasn’t been enough to counter all those other variables hanging over me.

With a break in production today while Nate and the other producers meet with the network to discuss the episodes that have been completed and the upcoming ones that have been storyboarded, I’ve decided I have to get at least one shadow off my neck.

I can’t quit my job, and there isn’t much I can do about my parents that I haven’t already done with the restraining order. It’s just that the third one makes me feel like there’s already blood trickling down my throat.

Somewhere behind me is a security detail that Nate is paying for, and I try not to think about that as I drive toward the Tucker mansion.

This conversation could go in a thousand directions, but the one thing I’m sure of is that Celia probably already knows everything I’m about to tell her.

Truthfully, I’m surprised she didn’t come knocking first.

But that’s probably always been her strength. She’s never the desperate one.

I ring the doorbell when I arrive, and a butler answers. It seems so old-fashioned, but that’s a Celia trait. If people would expect someone with money to have it, she has it. Her children—with the exception of Ava—appear to have grown up to be completely different.

“Can I help you?” he asks, and he even has a British-sounding accent. I’m tempted to ask him if he’s seen Bruce Wayne, and if I wasn’t so nervous, I might just do that.

“I’m here to see Celia Tucker.”

“Is she expecting you?”

“Probably.”

“And you are?”

“Hollyn Davis.”

“A Davis?”

“Yes.”

He closes the door in my face, and I stand waiting on the front step for longer than I suspect Celia keeps people with more power or influence. Now that I’m older, I can clock the games she plays, the way she exerts her power and privilege in ways that are unexpected or almost invisible.

The door swings open again, and the butler steps out, closing the door behind him. “She’ll see you on the back patio. Follow me.”

I don’t even get to go into the house. She knows every way to make someone feel small, because I know it’s a straight shot right through the center of the house to get to the back patio. Walking all the way around the house to get to her makes a statement.

When we finally get around, the hot sun has caused me to sweat, and I’m no longer looking my best nor feeling as mentally strong.

Celia is in a lounger in the shade, reading on her tablet. When the butler approaches with me following behind, she doesn’t even glance up.

“May I present Hollyn Davis?” He steps back and practically runs in the back door into the air-conditioning.

“What are you doing here?” Celia asks, flicking her finger on the tablet without looking up.

“You don’t know?”

“I have ideas about why you’d be here, but I want to know why you think you’re here.”

“I thought you might seek me out to remind me of our deal, considering who I’m working with, who I’m living with.”

“Why would I need to do that?” Celia sets the tablet on the table beside her and finally looks at me.

There are no other chairs near her, so I’m still standing, and the shade is more behind Celia than in front. In order to face her, I’ve had to stay in the hot sun, squinting.

“You’re not worried I’ll break our deal?”

“Of course not,” she says, waving her hand dismissively.

“If Nathaniel knew what you did that night before you left the island, it wouldn’t be me he’d be angry with, now, would it?

” She shakes her head. “As soon as he realizes how little you valued him, how easily you tossed him aside, anything that’s started up between you two is done.

You were never stupid, Hollyn, just a poor girl from a criminal family. ”

I can feel myself getting smaller. Just like my mother, Celia’s always been able to make me shrink into myself, and while I gained a lot of practice in New York at keeping my back straight when I’m challenged—old habits die hard.

With my mother, I had rage on my side, but with Celia, all I have is shame.

“You know,” Celia continues, “the women Nathaniel’s dated since you left the island have all been from rich families.

Women who fit into this world, who understand his family and his lifestyle.

Lovely, lovely people. The thing that my Nathaniel has learned is that you can fuck the help, fuck the criminals, but marry them?

Build a life with them? Never. You just can’t.

And that’s something idealistic young boys learn when they become men. ”

Words bubble in my throat, but I can’t get them to form coherent sentences. It’s like she’s sewn my mouth shut.

“Besides, the minute Nathaniel discovers the truth—the way you left the island, the deals you made—he’s not going to forgive that.

If you don’t feel like just the help right now, you will again then.

” She rises off her lounge chair, and she gives me a patronizing smile. “You never did understand your place.”

“He won’t let me go again,” I say, pushing the words out past my natural resistance.

“He won’t?” Celia laughs. “Well, it’s a good thing you’ll go anyway. Because staying on this island for longer than this television season would break our deal. And you don’t want to see me when someone crosses me, Hollyn Davis. I’ve been quite docile with you. Don’t make me get rabid.”

“You don’t understand—”

“No, you don’t.” Celia steps toward me. “My son likes to take care of people, but I’d like to think you’ve been well taken care of. Have you not?”

I stare at her, silent. In all the ways she cares about, I’m sure she’d consider anything other than a yes to be a lie.

“So anytime he’s inclined during a post-coital moment to suggest something temporary could become more permanent, you find some of that fierceness you drummed up the night we made our deal. Have your fun. But remember the limits you already put on that.”

“As long as I leave…”

“You won’t suffer any consequences for the pieces of our deal you’ve already broken. I’m not completely heartless. See yourself out.”

She steps past me and walks into the house, but I can see her lock the door behind her. Clearly, I’m meant to go all the way around again.

The notion that Celia’s supposed grace isn’t heartless is laughable. She’s essentially telling me that I can get as close to Nate as I want in the next few weeks and months, but none of it will matter. The decision I made at eighteen under extreme duress still stands.

I wipe the sweat off my forehead and start the long walk back around to the front.

Some of the things she said, I should have pushed back on, but my brain short-circuited when she said Nate would be so angry with me that he’d never speak to me again.

It’s like she looked inside my head and heart to reveal my biggest fear.

Maybe I walked away from him the first time, but part of me has always been terrified that one day, he’ll look at me and he’ll wonder what good he ever saw in me in the first place.

He’ll finally realize the time he spent with me then, the years he spent missing me in between, and whatever we manage to eke out here, were really just a waste of his time and energy.

That would truly break my heart.

All those memories I’ve clung on to for years would become irrevocably tainted.

I came here to figure out a way to diminish the shadow threatening to cut off my head, and instead, Celia Tucker planted a bomb in my life that’s already started ticking.