Page 5 of The Inn Dilemma (Give a Bookish Girl a Biker)

Chapter Three

I have my phone tucked between my ear and shoulder as I thumb through my jewelry choices and answer Mom’s endless questions.

“Are you wearing the dress I laid out for you? Our stylist picked it out specifically for this event. You know how your father is.”

I also know how Mom is.

“Yes, I promise I’m wearing it right now.” I look at my outfit in my full-length mirror. It’s a frilly dress with an asymmetric hem in a charcoal black. Mom has also set out strappy sandals to match. As I do a little twirl, I say, “It’s actually really cute.”

“Actually cute?” she asks with a scoffing laugh.

Even though Mom does have great style, it’s more for a forty-something-year-old woman, not a sixteen-year-old girl.

I can’t count the times one of my dad’s business associates thought I was much older because of the clothes Mom’s stylist picked out for me.

Christian just needs to wear a classic suit and seamlessly fit in with all age groups .

“It’s something I’d pick out for myself.”

I let my eyes wander around my elegant room.

Some girls may think white walls are boring, but white is a classic color.

Little pops of Tiffany blue picture frames hold photographs of the queen of elegance, Audrey Hepburn.

The frames tie in with the throw pillows on my bed.

My bedroom is one of the few areas of my life where I can be the real me.

When I turned thirteen, Mom surprised me with a full room makeover and gave me full creative control.

This room has become my sanctuary from the madness of life as a Price.

“And the other dresses? Do you realize how much money I’ve spent on your clothes?”

The irritation in Mom’s voice pulls me back to our phone call. My chest feels too tight. I shouldn’t have said anything, but I was so surprised by the outfit that my words got away from me.

“No, no, no. Truly, I’m so grateful for everything you and Dad have bought me.” My eyes once again scan my room, moving from my desk with my brand-new laptop to the wall of bookshelves full of my favorite childhood books, classic literature, and contemporary romances.

“Well, maybe you should get a job and start buying your own clothes,” she snaps.

The thought excites me. “I could.” But then Dad’s words come back to me: “ Your mother doesn ’ t have to work. She works just to defy me. Women were designed to be at home, take care of the house, and provide whatever their husbands need.”

Mom chuckles. “You know I don’t mean it. Your father would never hear of it.” The disdain in Mom’s voice is palpable.

“I know,” I say sadly.

“Well, it doesn’t matter. Just be sure you get to the Denver Performing Arts Center before five.”

“Okay, Mom.”

Without even a goodbye, she hangs up. And I hang my head.

I give myself a hard look in the mirror. My face is already made. I can’t cry and ruin the work I put into my makeup. Besides, by the time I get to the events center, Mom will have completely brushed off our entire conversation. There’s no need for me to wallow either.

Picking up my phone, I send a text to Zack, my flavor of the week, as an act of rebellion.

Me: Meet me at Big Blue in thirty minutes.

Zack: I’ll be waiting, princess.

I grimace at the nickname but push aside the irritation it brings. Zack may not be the brightest crayon in the box, but he knows how to kiss. And making out with my current boyfriend feels like the perfect way to numb myself before pretending to be the trophy daughter Dad and Mom expect me to be.

I check my face in my handheld mirror, dab on lip gloss to replace what Zack’s lips smeared, then adjust my dress. Closing my eyes, I steal my spine and strengthen my composure.

It’s showtime.

The event center’s opulence shouldn’t be overwhelming after attending countless other events here, but each time I step into one, I’m floored by the amount of time, money, and energy people put into these things.

The room’s ceiling reminds me of checkered waves, but has been decorated with red and white linens draped out from the center that match the tablecloths.

The linens join together at the chandelier in the center of the room.

Each table is decorated with a gorgeous arrangement of flowers in a crystal vase.

“There she is,” Dad says, his perfect teeth gleaming under the atmospheric lights.

He pulls me into a firm embrace and whispers into my ear, “Be on your best behavior tonight. There’s a client I’d like to land, and I expect you to impress his son to help me out.

” To an outsider, he must look like a doting father who loves his little girl.

But his words only confirm what I’ve already known: I’m an asset he thinks he can manipulate with money and things.

“Yes, Dad.” I nod, forcing my smile back in place.

He takes me around the room, introducing me to new business associates. I kindly greet the ones I’ve already met, all while weaving the little details I memorized about them into our stiff conversations. They each seem impressed with my memory, and Dad preens at their praise.

“Wow, Kent, she is absolutely stunning.”

“Your daughter is gorgeous.”

“So polite and sweet.”

Compliments ping-pong around me. To a normal girl, they’d be flattering. To me, they confirm my status as a Stepford daughter.

Mom eventually joins us, bringing with her the only person who could make this event a little less terrible.

“Look who’s home visiting!”

It’s Holt, my brother’s best friend and the hero of my childhood .

“Nova!” Holt opens his arms wide and gives me the first genuine hug I’ve felt since he last visited. After releasing me, he grips my shoulders and pushes me back to look me up and down. “I can’t believe how much you’ve grown up!”

“I could say the same of you.” I poke his harder-than-stone bicep. The Navy SEALs are no joke.

He gives me one of his genuine smiles.

“Well, now that this little reunion is taken care of,” Dad says, looking extra annoyed. He grabs my arm and tugs me away. “I think it’s time I introduce you to Justin Waldorf.”

I give Holt an apologetic look and allow my dad to bring me over to a guy who appears to be a year or two older than me. The moment his eyes land on me, appreciation fills his expression.

Dad claps him on the back. “Justin, I’m so glad you could make it. I’d like you to meet my daughter, Nova. Nova, this is Justin Waldorf. His dad owns Waldorf Enterprises.”

Justin takes my outstretched hand and kisses it.

I’d find him attractive if it weren’t for the fact that my dad set this whole thing in motion.

He’s tall, appears to be athletically built under his suit, and has blond hair, blue eyes, and a perfect smile.

I look over Justin’s shoulder and catch Dad’s look of expectation.

He’s probably writing our prenup as we speak.

“So nice to meet you. Dad has told me a lot about you,” I say, fitting my flirty smile on my lips.

Dad pecks my forehead and whispers, “Make this count” before leaving to mingle with the other guests. Mom stands dutifully by his side, her head held high, and a terrible realization hits me. That could be my future .

My smile slips.

“Hey, you okay?” Justin asks, stepping closer and placing his hand at the small of my back.

My gaze flits to his. “Oh yeah, sorry. It’s been a long day.”

His eyes wander down to my chest and then the rest of me. Unease slithers beneath my skin.

“Why don’t you and I move somewhere more private so you can tell me all about it?” His voice takes on a sympathetic yet seductive edge. It’s an odd combination.

“I think we can talk perfectly fine right here.” I point to a spot on the marble floor we’re standing on.

“You play the part of a good girl well. But I know that deep down there’s something a little more reckless waiting to be unleashed.” Justin licks his lips.

I take a step back, and that unease from earlier returns and sets off alarm bells.

I turn my head in search of anyone who can help me escape this downward spiral of a situation, but instead of taking the hint, Justin grabs my wrist and tugs me forward.

A slow song starts playing over the speakers, and he pulls me flush against him as we sway to the music.

“I’m not really a dancer,” I say with a little laugh.

“You seem to move perfectly fine to me,” he whispers in my ear, leading us deeper into the dance floor where couples are gathering.

“You know, I’ve seen you at these functions for a while now, but am glad I finally got to meet you.

It always felt like you were off-limits, though.

I was pleasantly surprised when your dad introduced us. ”

“I’m-I’m flattered,” I lie. “But I should probably get back?—”

He pulls me tighter against him and cuts me off. “Uh uh uh, you’re not going anywhere.”

I pinch my eyes closed as his hand drifts lower, my throat tightening with tension.

I mentally curse Dad for putting me in this situation.

There’s always an ulterior motive with him, and even though he wouldn’t approve of me going somewhere private with Justin or of the guy’s wandering hands, he would want me to dance with Justin to keep him happy.

Two more years , I tell myself. Just two more years until I can escape this gilded prison and forge my own path. I don’t know if I’ll go off to college or do something else, but this isn’t the life I want for myself. I can do more. Be more.

Just as hope starts to fill my chest, Justin practically purrs in my ear, “You look so good in this dress.” His hand slides further down my back. “I bet you’d look even better?—”

Before he can finish his thought or his hand can drift any lower, he’s pulled away and a familiar deep voice asks, “Mind if I cut in?”

Christian expertly twirls me out of Justin’s grip and narrows his eyes at Justin.

“Who are you?” Justin scowls.

“Her brother,” Christian answers.