Chapter Two

Nina

I hummed with the happiness of seeing my dad, even though he’d asked me to stitch the tear in his red, silk-patterned tie. A dorky thrum of pride moved through me as I hunted down my stitching kit in the back room, placing it and the tie together in my upstairs office.

“I’ve got to go, darling!” Dad called from downstairs.

“What? Don’t go!” I called over my shoulder, sliding my desk drawer shut and hurrying through my office.

“Love you!” The bell tinkled, letting me know that Dad was gone, and I grimaced, slowing down as I passed onto the little stairwell at the back of the shop. My hand landed on my polished wooden bannister, and I trudged down the rest of the way.

Will, sitting behind the cash register, watched me from behind his square-framed glasses. His lip kinked to the side with sympathy, and I shrugged.

Even though I saw Dad often now, it still felt as if he might disappear forever every time he drove off into the night. There was something about him. He was dazzling and lovable, and then he was totally gone for as long as it took to do whatever he did.

Where does he go when he gets out of here so fast?

I settled behind the counter again, and the bell above the door tinkled. I perked up, expecting to see Dad return, but a burly man shouldered into our foyer, letting in a blast of cold air with him.

I blinked.

That guy’s not real.

He had dark hair pulled back into a small bun at the back of his head, but some strands struggled free like his hair wanted to be loose. His face was dominated by a black beard, intensifying the impact of his strong cheekbones and clear topaz eyes. He wore blue jeans, a white cotton T-shirt, and a brown corduroy coat lined with wool. I only caught a snatch of bare skin at his neckline, and it was tattooed.

His gaze latched on mine. That dark gold color pierced right through me like a cat’s eyes. A predator?

Oh my god, it was him! The biker guy from a few days past. He’d insisted on waiting with me for my ride. He’d acted protective and crazy and –

Say something!

Cat got my tongue. I forced out the words, “Are you looking for anything?” as if this goliath was the average customer to come bursting into Paper Treasure right before closing time.

Hell, he was the first customer I’d seen at all in the past two hours.

Get your head out of your ass and sell him something. Hercules is a customer.

“I’m looking for a friend of mine,” Hercules answered. “Saw him on the street.” He strode across the space between us and came to stand at the counter. He was even bigger now that he was close. I concentrated dutifully on his face, never thinking about how chiseled and massive his chest must be. “Bald guy,” Hercules interrupted my fuzzy fantasy. “Getting older. Fancy little suit. Did he come in here? Frenchman with a shitty rat tail?”

“Oh, yeah,” I answered, still fuzzy. Dad’s ponytail wasn’t shitty, even though it did look kind of sad, but I let that one slide. Dad casually insulted the people around him all the time. Why wouldn’t some of them insult him back? “That’s my dad,” I told Hercules, practically beaming up at him.

Hercules blinked at me. “No, he’s not.” He said it like it was a fact, and I sat up a little straighter. I got an immediate zinger in my chest at his words, even though I knew Jon-Pierre Gusteau was my father. The thought that he wasn’t my dad had always haunted me. It would explain why he never really spent time with me. Why he would always flutter away for months.

But you are his daughter, I told myself sternly. That man might have missed every ballet recital you ever had, but he damn well paid the tuition on all of it.

I scoffed out a fake laugh. Who the hell did this guy think that he was? “Excuse me?”

“He can’t be your father,” Hercules said. “Look at you. You’re practically a teenager.”

I swept my hair over my shoulder, not sure if I should be feeling flattered or insulted. Either way, I got some small satisfaction from seeing Hercules’s eyes twinkle down to my chest when I moved my hair out of the way. “I’m twenty-two, and he’s fifty-three. It’s not that unbelievable,” I explained. Is Hercules trying to flirt with me? He’s not my type—so rough-looking—but his eyes are beautiful. I’d let him buy me a drink. Hell, I’d ask him about his damn mother. That’s how gorgeous this stranger was. “How do you know my dad?”

“Oh,” Hercules said. He blinked and hesitated. “He likes to drop in at my bar. Toasty’s.”

My mouth slanted to the side. That sounded about right. Dad never could say no to a hard drink.

“Who did he leave here with?” the newcomer asked.

I opened my mouth to answer him but then thought better of it. Something in my heart wouldn’t let me trust him. “I don’t know,” I lied. “Sorry you missed them.” I absently toyed with my pearl necklace. Hercules’s eyes followed the string above my chest, and I grinned up at him shamelessly. “I’m Nina,” I told him, even though he hadn’t asked.

You’re too precious for the goons out there, Dad’s voice echoed in my head. Don’t you fucking give the time of day to the whole lot.

Hercules hadn’t mentioned his name, and Will had gone to the back, so I kept talking like an imbecile.

“You must get to hear all his best stories, pouring his drinks at night.” I smiled up at Hercules, hoping he would stay and talk some more. A bartender with tattoos. Dad would be so mad.

“I’ve heard all his worst stories,” Hercules corrected me, running his hands over his mouth and letting out an almost relieved little laugh. Or was it a kind of disappointed laugh? “I can’t believe I’m talking to his fucking daughter right now,” he murmured. “You were born in 1996?”

“What?” I snapped, derailed by the jarring question. How was he still hung up on that? I thought he had been kidding when he said that Dad wasn’t my father. I thought he was a shitty flirt. “Yes! Why do I feel like this is all some kind of joke? Am I on camera?” A cold pit opened up in my chest. “What did my dad tell you?”

Hercules’s hands slid across the counter as he leaned on it, peering down at me thoughtfully. I drew myself back, electrified by his closeness. My tits, lips, and pussy spontaneously tingled. I felt naked.

“Did you know your father at all growing up?” Hercules whispered, his golden eyes narrowed and trained on me. I swallowed, feeling two inches tall. No, not really. “Or are you one of those doorstep kids who showed up at eighteen?”

My high-heeled boots slammed into the floorboards as I jerked to a full stand, glowering up at Hercules from my full height of 5’4”. My tits tingled even harder this close to his chest, but I was angry enough to ignore it now.

“Excuse me? What the hell concern is it of yours?” I demanded. My chest rose and fell hard and my heart squeezed almost painfully. How did he know? What the hell was going on? Dad never saw me when I was growing up. I didn’t have any baby pictures with him. I remember being told that he was my father one day when I was about five. I thought he was my mom’s friend. For years, I would only see him on the most random days. Not even special days. Just some Tuesday in the summer and he would be in the living room with a box full of dresses from New York City for me.

I hated him, and I loved him. I believed he’d be there, and then he wouldn’t.

But he would bring a wad of fresh green bills for my mother every time he visited. And he’d bring me necklaces and shoes from Paris and Los Angeles and London, and my anger would slowly fade again and again.

“He told me a story once,” Hercules murmured down at me. His whisper was deep and gravelly, stirring something much deeper than the little hairs on my neck. I closed my eyes without meaning to, letting his voice wash over me. “He told me a story about this secret family he had in Hinton.”

My eyes snapped open, and I glared hard at Hercules. “Just who the fuck are you?” My voice shook. My hands trembled in mid-air. I didn’t want to hear another word, but I needed to hear more, too.

“I don’t think I should tell you that,” Hercules said. His voice was husky, and his eyes were apologetic. My gaze drifted down to his mouth. I tore them away again. No! This guy is a prick! “I’m sorry. He was married to another woman.”

“You’re a fucking…” I wanted to shut him out, to force him out of the bookstore, but I couldn’t bear to stop him. I wanted him to keep talking. Tell me everything. “Another woman?” I breathed.

If we were the secret family, Dad must’ve had a real one. Some other little girl whose recitals he actually saw. Some other woman he made honorable through marriage.

My mouth soured.

“He was married to someone else,” Hercules whispered. My eyes tracked him, but my mouth couldn’t move anymore. It was frozen into a cold, hard line. “He married her the year before you were born. I should go. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you, but… it was too fucking crazy to meet you. You threw me off.” Hercules shook his head like he’d been slapped by something invisible, then turned and strode for the door.

“No! Hey!” I stretched out a hand to stop him and hurried around the other side of the register, but his legs were too powerful, and he was already gone. “Who are you?” The bell over the door tinkled, and I got a blast of cold air in the face.

The man was down the stairs and on the street now, like every other man in my fucking life. I exhaled for what felt like forever.

I wanted to follow Hercules out there, but I knew better than to go running through Montclair alone at night, especially wearing jewelry. Will wasn’t only my assistant manager, but he also was my designated valet when we closed the shop.

“Come back,” I said to no one in particular. I stared through the dark glass, trying to see out into the night, but it only threw back my own miserable reflection. I looked hopeless, scanning for the mysterious bartender who knew my dad’s secrets but seeing only myself, who knew none of them. “That was so crazy,” I breathed, finally twisting to gaze at Will, who’d crept out from behind a bookshelf.

Had he been hiding? Oh god, he’d probably heard everything.

“I w-w-wouldn’t believe him, N-N-Nina,” Will said. He had a strong and frequent stammer. “He’s some g-guy with a beard.”

“Yeah.” But my voice was almost inaudible. Deep down in my heart, the words thudded over and over again. They rang true. Secret family. Secret family. I barely saw my father until I was halfway through middle school. He was like Santa Claus, the hero we were always waiting on but never got to see.

“He l-looked l-like a shit g-guy. Mr. Man Bun,” Will sneered.

I offered Will a feeble smile. “I thought it was sexy,” I confessed. But I appreciated that Will was trying to cheer me up anyway. He was a good assistant manager. And friend. “You’re right. Who the fuck needs Man Bun?”

But my whole foundation was already shaken.

We tallied the register and finished the books and closed the store for the night. All the while, Will and I talked and smiled and acted like nothing was wrong. But on the inside, ice water pumped through my veins. On the inside, I was totally hollow, except for one echoing thought: I was part of a secret family. My mom was the other woman. That was why he never visited. That was why he gave me presents and money all the time, but he never gave me actual time or effort.

Because I was never supposed to be born. He couldn’t squeeze me into his real life. And he felt sorry for me.

I wasn’t his special princess at all.

I was his dirty secret.