Page 35 of The Golden Hour

This is why I like Abby. Though her face is well-known after several successful, worldwide campaigns, she hasn’t been poisoned by the well of vanity and self-absorption most young models drink from daily.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

We turn to look at Callisto, now trading air kisses with a matronly woman overwhelmed by pearls and garish red lipstick. A stately man stands behind them, his attention on the phone in his hand rather than the women. He’s the only one in the vicinity, though, who doesn’t have at least one eye trained on Callisto. Her notoriety is a magnet—half the people here want to fuck her just to say they did, and the other half want to see her fall apart.

I continue, “Or maybe she’d like a little break from the sharks.”

Abby nods thoughtfully as several small groups of people merge on Callisto’s location. “She does seem in need of some rescuing.”

I offer her my arm. “Shall we?”

She slips her arm through mine and grins. “We shall.”

20

I saw him first.

In fact, he was the first person my eyes landed on when I stepped outside to join my sisters. Thankfully, I was already buffered by a sneaked shot of vodka and a morning spent dedicated to projecting apathy. The shock that pulled my ribs tight to my heart? Inconsequential. The why why why pinging in my mind? The way my body sang a high, pure note at the sight of him? All of it, ignored.

His naturally haughty features are pulled tight, the stormy blue of his eyes visible even from across the pool. He doesn’t know I’ve seen him—I’ve been careful not to look directly his way. Because he doesn’t know this version of me. What she’s capable of. Callisto Avellino, heiress. Raised to rub elbows with the rich and powerful. Trained to compliance and grace. This is perhaps the first time I’ve truly plied my skills, but they come easily. A familiar skin.

Who I was in Solstice Bay, the fumbling, raw person, is locked back in the darkness she rose from. A tender sapling cut off from the light. Here, now, I am my father’s daughter.

I’m unaffected by Finn McCowen.

At least on the outside.

When he finally makes his play, approaching me with a gorgeous model on his arm, I’m ready. Or as ready as I can be for his nearness. I struggle to hold the conversation with Mrs. Stapleton, wife of a big studio exec and friend of my stepmother’s.

He’s closing in. My skin ripples with awareness as I watch him from the corner of my eye. The way he moves draws heads, and not just the female ones. His tattoos are covered by an untucked, long-sleeved button-down, his hair combed back, but there’s no mistaking his wildness. His otherness. He’s a force of nature deigning to visit the realm of men, exuding the promise of destruction.

Mrs. Stapleton says her farewells, giving me a patronizing pat on the cheek before turning to her husband, who looks up from his phone and gives me a brief, disinterested nod. At least there’s one person here who doesn’t give a shit about me.

“Callisto?” asks a soft voice. The model. “I’m Abby Hassler, and this is my friend Finn Reid. We thought we’d keep you company for a bit so you could have a break from… everything. No questions from us. Just”—she gives a small, tinkling laugh—“a buffer, if you want it.”

I’m taken aback by the gesture, by the kindness in her eyes. And even more by the word friend. I glance briefly at Finn, not maintaining eye contact for fear my mask will crack. When I saw them embrace with such familiarity, I assumed they were more. Casual, perhaps, but more than friends. From her tone—and the giant diamond I spy on her ring finger—they aren’t.

I ignore the resulting swell of relief.

“That’s very nice,” I tell Abby, “but I’m quite all right. Are you enjoying the party?”

She looks surprised, a little hurt. “Uh, yes, thank you.”

The conversation stalls. Finn clears his throat, and I brace for the impact of his voice. But before he can speak, Ellie appears beside me. She vibrates with excitement, and I notice at once that she’s unbuttoned the top of her dress to display her creamy cleavage.

“Oh my gosh, Mr. Reid, it’s so amazing you’re here. I’ve followed your work for years. You are the best photographer in the business. The way you capture such raw emotion in your subjects is incredible. I’m Elizabeth Avellino, by the way.”

Finn smiles, shaking her hand even as his eyes shutter to blankness. I wonder if Ellie can pick up on his withdrawal, but from the way she’s swaying toward him, I decide—rather pettily—that she can’t. With her gorgeous face and figure, not to mention her bank account, I doubt it occurred to her that her prey might not immediately roll over.

Never one to miss an opportunity to befriend the famous, Ellie turns to Finn’s companion. “And Abby Hassler. It’s so nice to meet you. You’re even more beautiful in person. Oh, and congrats on your recent engagement!”

Abby beams. “Thanks so much.”

“I was just about to head to the bar. Would you two like to join me?”

“Sounds good to me,” Abby says, looking in question at Finn.

He pivots to face me, stalling my retreat.

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