I wasn't regretting that Brock wanted to bring me to family dinner, and I certainly wasn't thinking about how Reed and his new bride would be there, all aglow and shit from their strangely short honeymoon. But I was nervous as hell when Brock opened the door to the town car we were taking to his parents' place. I was still asking myself why I'd agreed to this when we pulled up in front of a huge house that looked like it had been around since the city's founding. I didn't need anyone to tell me that it cost more than my entire building in Vegas. Brock took my hand as we walked up the front steps, but he didn't say anything and I wondered if he was as nervous as I was. If he was, he didn't show it.

He greeted his parents with a warm hello and asked if they remembered me. When they were too shocked to answer, he walked right past them, taking me with him. The Stirlings were already there, with the exception of the guests of honor, and they didn't look any more happy to see me than the Michaels had been. Rebecca looked downright put out, which pleased me and made the anxiety worth it.

We made small talk as we waited, but Brock always made sure it steered clear of anything I might be uncomfortable answering. I waited for Rebecca to get in a few pointed barbs, but she appeared to be saving them for later and contented herself with glaring at me while she sipped on a glass of wine.

Before things got too awkward, Reed and Britni arrived. I caught a glimpse of surprise flashing across Reed's eyes before it was gone again, but it made sense that he was able to hide it so quickly. I already knew he was a good liar.

Britni recognized me too and gave me a glare so angry I wondered if Reed had told her about us. A quick glance at him said he hadn't, and her anger was probably because she thought her brother had brought a prostitute to family dinner.

As we made our way into the dining room, I unintentionally discovered the reason for the short honeymoon.

“I really wish you would've taken the extra time off of work.” Mrs. Stirling didn't even try to conceal the disapproval in her voice as she spoke to Reed. “It was your honeymoon, after all.”

“You know my company's at a critical stage right now,” Reed answered in a tone that suggested he'd offered this explanation a million times before. “I can't leave for a whole week or more until it's stable. Britni and I discussed it and decided that, rather than postpone the wedding, we'd put off the honeymoon for a couple months.”

Mrs. Stirling pursed her lips. “I hope you intend to take your wife someplace nice then. No woman is okay with giving up her honeymoon.”

Most women wouldn't be okay with marrying someone who didn't love her either, I thought, but Britni had done that. Maybe it was a rich person thing. I just didn't get it.

We took our seats around the dining room table and I tried not to stare when someone in a starched white apron came in to serve us. Anastascia's family had a housekeeper who would clean their place a few times a week, but they'd cooked for themselves and she couldn't imagine them having someone serving their meals.

“This must be quite a change for you,” Rebecca broke through the quiet murmurings that had been the conversation through the first course of the meal. I didn't even have to look at her to know she was talking to me. She continued without waiting for a response. “Aren't you used to being on the other side of the table?”

“Rebecca.” Mrs. Stirling's heart didn't seem to be in the chiding.

“Did she tell you, Brock, that she grew up here? Poor.” She practically sneered.

“Actually, yes,” he answered without a pause. “Piper told me everything.”

Either he believed I hadn't left anything out or he was a better actor than I'd given him credit for. He answered her without batting an eye.

“You must be enjoying this then,” Mrs. Michaels interjected smoothly. “The chance to see how the other half lives.”

I didn't need her to say the other part of the statement. I knew it already. Before you go back to where you belong. I remembered a movie I'd watched as a teenager. Poor boy saves rich girl's life and gets to have dinner with the important people, most of whom are determined to make sure he knows his place. He'd gotten the girl for a little while, but the story hadn't ended well for him. I just hoped that wasn't going to be the case here.

“You have a lovely home.” I gave the Michaels a polite smile. “So much space.”

“I suppose you and your dozen half-brothers and sisters all shared a one room apartment, right?”

My smile tightened and Brock put his hand on my back. Across the table, Reed stiffened, though I couldn't tell if it was because of his sister's comment or Brock's touch.

“Our apartment had two bedrooms,” I replied stiffly. “And it was just my mother and me before she died.”

“I'm sorry to hear she passed,” Mrs. Michaels said.

I wasn't sure I believed her.

“That's unusual,” Rebecca continued. “Isn't it? Someone like your mother not having a dozen kids from different men.”

My hands curled into fists.

“Then again, you're following in her footsteps, aren't you? And you don't have any kids.” She smirked. “That we know of.”

I stood. “Excuse me.”

I heard Brock say my name, but I didn't acknowledge it or stop walking. I wasn't sure where I was going, but I knew it was away from the dining room. As soon as I saw a set of French doors leading outside, I went through them. I didn't care if they went to the front or back of the house. I wanted fresh air and solitude.

I stepped out into what looked like a garden. Leave it to rich people to turn their backyard into a garden rather than keeping it somewhere kids could play. I supposed the Michaels could've done it after Brock and Britni had grown up, but I doubted it. They seemed like the kind of people who wouldn't want to deal with the mess that came from outside play.

I took a deep breath of the warm early summer air. It was well past seven, closing in on eight, but dusk was only just settling. If I hadn’t been escaping from a room of horrid rich bitch snobs, I might have enjoyed it.

“Piper.”

Brock's voice came from behind me but I didn't turn to face him. His arms slid around my waist and I leaned back against his chest.

“I'm sorry.”

I shook my head. “It wasn't your fault. Rebecca's a bitch. Always has been. Usually, I can take it, but...” My voice trailed off.

“But this was about your mother,” he finished the thought for me.

I nodded.

“It might not be my fault, but I'm still sorry you're hurt.” He kissed my temple.

I turned around in his arms and put my hands on his shoulders. “Do you see now why I can't move back here?” My eyes met his. “Why this can't work?”

“I don't believe that.”

“They're never going to see me as anything but trash, even if they never find out how we really met, although you know they will.” I ran my fingers through his hair. “It doesn't matter how I dress, or if I learn all the nice buzz words that people in your social circle use. I'm not one of you, and I never will be.”

He kept one hand on my waist while the other cupped my chin, holding my face in place as he spoke, his voice intense. “Fuck them. I don't care what my parents think and if they try to make me choose, I'll choose you. I'm not going to let their close-minded prejudices make me miss out on the chance for happiness.”

My heart constricted almost painfully. He was choosing me over family. How could I not at least try to see if this could be something? I touched his face, trying to see if he words were real. “Okay.” I gave in. “I'll consider moving back.”

Brock's face lit up and he lowered his head. The kiss was rough, his mouth moving against mine almost forcefully. It was more than just wanting. This was needing. A hunger I felt myself catching. I slid my arms around his neck and pulled myself closer, pressing my body against his. The hand on my waist dropped to my ass and the one holding my chin moved around to bury itself in my hair.

When we finally broke apart, we were both panting and I was feeling much better.

“I'm glad you're thinking about coming back,” Brock said. He wrapped a lock of my hair around his finger and his eyes took on a teasing light. “Who knows if I'd ever find someone else as good in bed as you?”

I rolled my eyes and opened my mouth to retort, but before I could, someone behind us cleared his throat. I looked over Brock's shoulders and saw Reed standing in the doorway, his face an expressionless mask.

Well… this had all just gone to hell.