Page 47 of Fierce Love (Tucker Billionaires)

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Hollyn

W hile I got used to being around excessively rich people in New York and pretending I understood their extravagance, their lifestyle, galas like the one at the palace tonight only drive home how much of an outsider I still am in my own country.

My parents’ arrest yesterday hasn’t helped that feeling.

Everyone in there will know. The news will have spread like a wildfire across the country, and anyone who got screwed by whatever lucrative games my parents were playing isn’t going to be happy.

The last time I was at the palace was the night of Nate’s prom, and that night is a rocky memory, just like I’m sure this one will be.

Much like tonight, I felt beautiful, but I’d also felt unlike myself.

I was pretending I was capable of being the partner Nate needed.

While I’m now confident we could have grown in similar directions in the years between then and now, I’m not sure I ever would have felt like I fit into his circles, into the wider aspects of his rich upbringing.

The wealth gap between us is still big, even if Posey thinks none of that should matter now.

But maybe we were always meant to be a couple who could thrive in a house but struggle to survive in the world.

In our house, surrounded by what we’ve created together, we’re great. Better than great. I love who we are and what we are to each other between those walls. If it was possible to live in that space forever, I’d never have to wonder if we truly fit.

But already as we enter the palace gates, I’m keenly aware that I’m the criminal’s daughter and he’s a Tucker. The Celia Tuckers of the world are never going to accept me, welcome me, believe I belong on the arm of someone like Nathaniel Tucker.

“I can’t believe we’re going to a gala,” Kinsley practically squeals from beside me in the limousine.

Even the fancy car and driver are an upgrade from the everyday existence we’ve been living, and unlike Kinsley, who seems to love the opulence, I hate it.

In New York, these events were part of my job, not part of my life.

Here, all the trappings of wealth remind me that Nate came from this and I came from nothing.

Across from me, Nate catches my gaze, and he holds it, as though he’s capable of wordlessly pouring from his glass full of certainty into my half-empty one.

Everything inside me that has been winding tighter, slowly unravels back to some semblance of normal. For right now, I’ve got him. He’s mine , and I refuse to let my doubts and my regrets ruin our time together.

When we get to the palace, the driver helps Kinsley out of the car, but when he tries to help me, Nate steps in to take my hand instead. As I rise out of the back seat, he says, “You okay? You seemed preoccupied.”

“I’m not sure I’ll ever fit,” I say, staring at the palace entrance that Kinsley has already wandered toward with confidence. There’s a line of people waiting to be greeted by the royals before entering, which I’ve heard about but didn’t experience at the prom.

His jaw tightens and then relaxes before he says, “If you don’t want this life, then we won’t have this life. I don’t have to do any of these events.”

“That’s not practical,” I say, taking a step toward the line to join Kinsley.

“Practical is the furthest thing from my mind,” he says, shoving his hands in his suit pockets to walk beside me. “I’ll become a hermit. Live in a hut. Never again experience the sweet taste of a gold rush at one of these events as long as I get the sweet taste of you instead.”

“I’m at the level of a gold rush, am I?” I ask, charmed despite the worries brewing under the surface.

“ Far superior.”

We take a few more steps and then he says, “I know you’re still not sure—”

“I’m sure about you,” I say. “I’m so, so sure about you. Truly. But the rest of this?” I wave my hands at the palace, which probably already houses his mother. “Shouldn’t we be realistic?”

“Fuck realism,” he says keeping his voice low. “I had that for fourteen years, and it was a slow march to death. If you want to fit in, I will make them accept you, and if you want to be outside all the bullshit, I’ll stand there with you. The only reality I want is the one that features you.”

I’m so tempted to ask him, right now, to run away with me.

To come up with some place in the world where his mother would never be able to find us.

But I genuinely don’t know if such a place exists.

She’s got unlimited resources, a vindictive nature, and legal paperwork that could, if she chose to wield it, rip my heart out.

Before I can think of what to say, we’re at the front of the line, being greeted by King Alexander, his wife, Queen Aurora, and their toddler daughter, Grace.

It surprises me that they both know who I am, that they’re able to ask questions about the production, acknowledge my aunt’s passing, and ask about my job in New York at Reyes and Cruz.

It’s clear from Kinsley’s conversations ahead of me that she’s met them both before, that they’re aware of her training, and even that they’ve somehow met Henry. The warmth, particularly from Queen Aurora, doesn’t even seem forced.

“It surprises me,” I say to Nate as we walk away, “that people who seem so tuned-in can’t see the massive wealth gaps across the country.”

“They see it,” Nate says. “But the gaps are a systemic problem. It’s not something that can be solved permanently overnight.

And I will say”—his hand lands on the small of my back, guiding me through the crowd toward where his siblings are gathered—“that since Queen Aurora came into King Alexander’s life, the palace has become a place where a wide range of backgrounds and socioeconomic statuses are welcome.

Your bank account is no longer your ticket onto the grounds. ”

“Everything seems so expensive,” Kinsley breathes out. “This ballroom is…”

I’m trying really hard not to clock and total all the high-end pieces scattered around.

Name brand after name brand dominates all their interior choices, from paintings on the wall to the wood on the floor.

Kinsley’s probably heard me talk about work often enough to have some sense of the money involved in creating this atmosphere.

Once we’re close enough to Nate’s family, I brace myself, expecting Celia and Jonathan to be among them. But I don’t see either of them.

Sawyer looks stunning in a high-neck pale-lavender dress with long sleeves.

I’d almost put money on her having lost weight, but Kinsley did say Sawyer had started training with the adventure race groups.

It’s probably my own bias poking through, but worry is my default when I notice someone has lost weight.

“Do we get to meet Dalton?” Nate asks Sawyer before he signals for a waiter to bring him a gold rush and an iced tea for me and Kinsley. Nate told me that Dalton grew up in Rockdown on the other side of the island, so the Tuckers don’t know him that well.

“He’s in the crowd somewhere campaigning,” Sawyer says, her lips tilting slightly. “Only a few weeks until the Advisory Council selections.” She glances around. “He’s asked me to talk to some people for him too.”

“Are you going to?” Nate asks.

“She shouldn’t,” Maren says, and Brice loops his arm around her and kisses the side of her head. “She’s known him for five minutes, and implying that she’s voting for him, and they should, too, seems a bit off to me.”

“He’s my boyfriend,” Sawyer says with a hint of annoyance in her tone. “Brice likes him, right?”

“Well, he’s hot,” Ava says then sips her glass of wine. “Total age-gap-Daddy vibes. He’s got my vote.”

“I thought Gage was coming?” Nate asks, sliding his phone out of his pocket to check it.

“Nova had a fever, so he delayed his flight back from California to make sure it was nothing,” Sawyer says. “He should be arriving any minute.”

“I hear he got roped into helping Dad with the hockey team?” Nate says.

“Gage charmed a few people,” Ava says, as though that’s the easiest job in the world. “Is that really helping? I charm people all the time.”

“Nate told me you might be doing some of the team’s physio?” I say to Sawyer, seeing a chance to jump into the conversation.

“That’s a plan my father and King Alexander have,” Sawyer agrees. “I’m not sure I’m interested. Dalton doesn’t think it makes professional sense.”

“Why’s that?” Maren asks, eyebrows raised.

Sawyer gives a little shrug.

“He grooming you for wife number three already? A Tucker would be quite a coup for a someone on the campaign trail,” Maren suggests.

“Tucker,” Brice murmurs beside Maren, his tone not quite warning.

“I know you think he’s great,” Maren says to Brice, “but I think that man has an agenda.”

“I’m old enough to know when a guy is leading me down a path I don’t want to go,” Sawyer says.

“Did Mom stay home?” Ava asks, looking around.

“Mom didn’t show up?” Gage says, coming up behind us.

“Wasn’t feeling well,” Sawyer says. “The last treatment knocked the shit out of her.”

“Is it working, though?” Gage asks, a drink in his hand. He eyes me and offers his hand. “Gage. I think we probably met when I was a rambunctious little shit.”

“That is exactly when we met,” I say, laughing a little. “You and Ava.”

“Oi,” Ava says with a huff. “I was an angel. He was the ringleader.” She takes another sip of her wine. “And to answer your question, Gage—no, the treatments aren’t working yet.”

“Do you think they’ll let me be in the operating room when they slice you open to give Mom one of your kidneys?” Gage asks, a teasing glint in his eye. “Imagine the scar.”

“It won’t be me on that table, and we all know it. My heroic big brother would never allow it.”

“We’re a long way off kidney donation,” Nate says, his hand coming to the small of my back again.