“I’m fine. Totally fine.” I didn’t know if I would ever be fine again.
Zhen called out, “Marco!”
Could they not see him? How? The man was so tall, he took up half the room. It was like I was giving off some kind of invisibility radius that shielded him from view.
Annoyed, I responded, “Polo!”
That made Marco laugh, and Zhen came over with his phone out. “Hey, I wanted to grab a picture of the group for the ’gram.”
I should have been given a medal for not rolling my eyes. Was it really so hard to say Instagram? Had he saved time by omitting two syllables, or was he somehow cooler because he’d used the term?
“Sure thing.” Marco got up, and it felt like he was being peeled away from me bit by bit and when he was standing up, there was a void there, an ache. I wanted him back where he had been.
That was alarming.
They formed a large group, putting their arms around each other’s shoulders, and I waited for someone to remember I was there and ask me to take the picture.
Marco looked over his shoulder. “Anna, come join in.” He had Peter move and then waved me over.
I got up and walked toward him, standing in the spot he’d indicated.
“Everybody squeeze in,” he instructed, holding up Zhen’s phone to get the whole group in the picture.
I moved closer toward him, Peter on my other side. Marco put his arm around my waist and pulled me in tight so that I was against him. Sitting next to him in that nook must have desensitized me, because I didn’t feel like I was going to pass out just because his hand was on my waist, so that was good.
My pulse still beat erratically, though.
“Everyone say ‘iron golem’！” Marco said, and we all said it while smiling. He took a couple of pictures and then handed the phone back to Zhen. Everybody else started walking back toward the dining room, but we stayed put.
Zhen asked, “Are you coming?”
“We’re just going to hang out here for a little while,” Marco said. “Thanks.”
I didn’t want him to feel like he had to babysit me or something. I was more than okay with being alone. “You can go.”
His arm was still around me, and he squeezed me gently. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I abandoned you at a party? We can hang out.”
“Okay.” The word slipped out. I did want him to stay, and that was very unlike me.
But I stepped out of his embrace and directed him to the couch. My body whimpered at the idea that he wasn’t going to be holding it any longer, but I ignored that feeling. I sat down, and he sat next to me, close. I was both excited and worried at the same time. He wasn’t touching me, but close enough that if either one of us shifted even slightly, we would be.
Catalina sat at the head of the table in her role as the dungeon master, announced it was time to start, and everyone gathered around her.
“Probably not the kind of dungeon you’re used to, huh?” I wanted to slap a hand over my mouth. Why did I say things like that?
He grinned. “What kind of stuff do you think I’m into?”
“I don’t know,” I said, wishing I could take it all back. “I haven’t thought about it.”
He put his arm on the back of the couch, again almost touching but not, and leaned in. He asked in a low voice, “Haven’t you?”
What was he doing? He couldn’t be flirting with me for the benefit of the class, because nobody was paying us any attention. Was it that practicing thing he’d mentioned? To get us ready for our big reveal with his brother?
Who probably wasn’t going to believe any of this anyway?
“I have a hard time imagining that you and Craig are so competitive that dating me will automatically make him interested.”
That made Marco pull his head back, and he looked a little sad. “It’s true. We used to be close. We were both raised by nannies, and he was my whole world. I loved him, and he loved me. That continued for years—anything I wanted to do, Craig was there with me. He was practically my shadow. And it stayed that way until I was fourteen.”
The pain in his voice was hard to listen to. “What happened when you were fourteen?”
“Tracie convinced my dad to send me off to boarding school. That was the beginning of the end. I tried calling Craig, but he was never around to take my call. I sent letters but never heard back. Tracie and Dad were always traveling during the holidays, so I didn’t get to go home and see him. After I graduated and moved back for the summer, everything had changed. He was a totally different person than the kid I remembered. He’d taken over my room, and all my stuff was packed away, like I hadn’t ever lived there. I kept trying to get him to hang out with me, but he wouldn’t even talk to me. One of the housekeepers told me that Tracie would constantly tell Craig how terrible I was, that I had to be sent away, and how he was so much better than me. That I had hated him and resented him. She ruined everything that we’d had.”
I couldn’t help myself. I put my hand on his forearm. I ignored the way my fingers tingled and just wished I could help him. “That must have been so hard.”
“It was. I went off to Harvard and tried to stay in touch, but if I did hear from him, it was to brag about his grades or his extracurriculars. Or how he was spending time with Dad.”
That didn’t sound at all like Craig. I had a hard time believing it.
But why would Marco lie about it?
“Everyone came up for my college graduation. I had been dating a girl who was a couple of years younger than me, and Craig spent the entire time winning her over. He succeeded. He can be charming when he wants to be. Same thing happened with Leighton. Anyway, that’s why I know this will work. Because it already has.”
That was . . . awful. There had to be some kind of mistake. Or misunderstanding.
“Do you hate your brother?” I asked.
“No. I could never hate him. I love him. I still want good things for him. I’ll always see my little buddy when I look at him.”
I squeezed his arm and briefly registered just how strong he was and how he could probably bench-press cars with those forearms.
“You’re one of those good things, Anna. He’d be lucky to have you.” That tone of sincerity, that emotion, those dark brown eyes, made it hard to not react the way my lady parts wanted me to.
So that I wouldn’t plaster myself against his lips like one of those face-huggers from the movie Alien, I lifted my hand and shifted away.
Now he was the one who seemed uncomfortable. He turned his body forward and cleared his throat, folding his hands in his lap. “Well, consultant, what do you think is the future of makeup?”
This was the only thing he could have asked me about （besides Ben Solo） that would have made me not shut up. “Neurocosmetics.”
He nodded. “I’ve read a bit about it, but I’m not very familiar with the concept.”
Honestly, that wasn’t surprising. In some ways, Minx was leading the industry with its commitment to organic, nontoxic, and environmentally conscious makeup, but in others, it didn’t seem to be paying attention to trends at all.
“The types of ingredients that are used in neurocosmetics are focusing on the fact that nerve endings in our skin are sensitive to certain kinds of stimuli. Those nerves and neuron cells in the skin are, obviously, connected to our brain. We know that there are heightened feelings that can mess with the skin.”