And no family.
Lydia told me to be ready for the surprise on the other side of the door, but I wasn’t prepared for this at all.
My guests aren’t hiding behind furniture or containing their laughter in the dark. They’re waiting for me under bright lights, at a party that looks like it started before I got here. The music is loud, drinks are flowing, and when everyone shouts, “Surprise!” like they do in the movies, I feel it in my bones.
The room is adorned in glitter and gold, resembling an extravagant wedding reception more than a birthday party. The tables are draped in shimmering tablecloths, topped with tall, jeweled vases overflowing with purple hydrangeas and roses in every color. Paper lanterns in a variety of sizes hang from the ceiling like glowing orbs of light amongst massive crystal chandeliers. Floral backdrops cover the walls, accented with diamond-like garland and wreaths of balloons to look like stars amongst the moons.
I’ve been transplanted from a commercial skyscraper to a galaxy far, far away, and I can’t believe this is for me.
Servers in black tuxedos walk around balancing trays of champagne on their palms. Open bars have been assembled at each end of the room where lines of people gather for something stronger after their obligatory shout of surprise. Others stand around and smile, toasting their champagne flutes in my honor. Lydia leads me forward, through a series of birthday wishes from people I don’t know but graciously accept, when I finally come across a face I recognize.
My heart soars.
“Happy Birthday, beautiful,” Wilder whispers before pressing his lips to the top of my bare shoulder. He hands me a glass of champagne and clinks our flutes together before sharing my first legal sip of alcohol with me. Little bubbles dance along my tongue and pop against the roof of my mouth, stinging my sinuses as I swallow it all the way down. “Were you surprised?”
“This is incredible.” I gaze around the room one more time before returning my stare to Wilder. Butterflies come alive in my stomach, and the speed of their wings intensifies under Wilder’s gray stare.
He’s a god in a burgundy suit tailored to fit the frame of his body. His jacket is undone, showing the black button-up shirt tucked into his pants beneath. Wilder hasn’t gelled his waves into its normal comb-over. Instead, he’s left his hair soft and pushed back from his face. A curl doesn’t fall across his forehead like Talent’s, but I’ll be damned if Wilder Ridge doesn’t look like the God of Thunder. It’s all I can do not to run my fingers through his curls on top of his head.
Tonight, he’s every bit of the socialite golden boy Grand Haven has made him out to be. His smile is charming, his posture is inviting, and his eyes are bright. Wilder stands tall, seemingly relieved of the stress being Giovanni Coppola’s partner in crime causes, and his focus is entirely on me.
The way Wilder licks his lips before he sips champagne is the birthday present I didn’t know to ask for.
Talent emerges from the crowd of people. He’s traded his black suit for one that matches his eyes, and he tightens the lapels before squeezing his brother’s shoulder and leaning past him to kiss my cheek. “Lydia had this idea of lighting the entire place with candles. I was afraid it would burn the building down, but now that I’ve made my rounds, it wasn’t such a bad idea after all.”
I smile, but Talent’s words are muted under the sound of my beating heart. Wilder rests his hand on my lower back, and his thumb moves back and forth along my spine. I press into him, just slightly, just until the scent of sandalwood and amber tickles my nose.
“Who are all these people?” I ask.
“Colleagues,” Wilder says.
“Friends,” Talent adds.
“Clients.” Lydia grabs a glass of champagne from a passing tray and says, “And some of my girls.”
“Why would they come to my birthday party? Isn’t that risky?”
“As far as everyone is concerned, you’re Lydia’s little sister,” Wilder says. “They know the drill, and if they want to continue working with Hush, they’ll keep their fucking mouths closed and enjoy the party.”
Lydia rolls her eyes, and Talent presses his lips together to keep from smiling.
“Okay, so I’m Lydia’s sister. But who is she other than Talent’s girlfriend? How have you explained her position at Ridge & Sons?” I ask.
Local gossip blogs, vlogs, and social media rags have speculated about Lydia since she and Talent went public. When Lydia decided to take over Hush, she also decided to lie low until anyone who may or may not be keeping an eye on her lost interest. This is their first event of this caliber since she took control of the escorting service, and she can no longer hide behind the anonymity of Cara Smith.
Who is Lydia Montgomery now?
My attention rotates among the three of them like a Rolodex, flipping back and forth until someone gives me the answer I’m looking for. Wilder rarely has a one-up on Lydia, and his lips curl into a knowing smirk. He’d enjoy being the one who drops this ball and does absolutely nothing to hide his amusement at her expense.
Talent has the decency to look uncomfortable, pulling his collar loose and clearing his throat.
“Anyone who doesn’t know any better is under the impression that I’m Talent’s secretary,” Lydia says in a clipped tone. She crosses her arms over her chest and dangles the glass from the tips of her fingers, unimpressed by the cover-up story.
Hush has a much longer list of rules than Lydia does. The most important rule has always been, if you know about Hush, don’t say a word about Hush.
LikeFight Club.
We exchange blows in our club, but not the kind that leave anyone bloodied or bruised. Much to Lydia’s current annoyance. I have no doubt she’d like nothing more than to smack the smug expression right off Wilder’s face.
