“What a shame. Cheekbones like those.” Willow gave him a once-over that was equal parts sexual and predatory. I’d seen the same expression on serious antique collectors who desperately wanted to possess something. She wasn’t looking at him like he was a person, but rather a thing.
Her comment about films made my recognition of her face click. “Sorry, you’re Willow Chalmers?”
She beamed like a thousand-watt spotlight at being recognized. “Guilty as charged. And you are?” The cursory glance she gave me wasn’t nearly as interested as the one she’d given Holden.
“Secret McQueen.”
The initial curl of her lip when she heard my name was a common enough response. People had a lot of trouble taking my name seriously, and it was a burden I’d learned to live with. Especially after finding out my mother had wanted to name me Harmony. Ick.
But getting such a dismissive look from a girl who shared her name with a tree, a television witch and a dwarf? Come on.
“Secret…McQueen?” She repeated my name back to me as if to say, Are you sure that’s what you want to go with? Then she seemed to process it and looked from me to Lucas. When her gaze returned to me, her mouth had gone slack.
I guess the gossip columns out west had liked my story as much as they had in New York.
“You’re Lucas’s ex.”
“I am Lucas’s ex,” I said almost gleefully, leaning hard on the last word when I met the wolf king’s gaze. “The one he ditched at the altar. Without so much as a phone call. Yup, that’s me.”
Now that she knew who I was, she didn’t seem sure of how to respond. I was guessing if I’d been just any other girl, she’d have pawed at him a little to make it clear he was hers, but I didn’t want him and that confused her.
Who didn’t want a beautiful, charming billionaire, right?
Me, for one.
But I also knew Lucas, and I knew this girl was going to end up one more notch on his bedpost. Willow Chalmers was human. There was nothing special or supernatural about her, and because of that she couldn’t be a permanent fixture in his life.
I almost felt pity for him, cavorting around with this poor human girl to fill some empty void inside. A void he’d probably claim I left him with.
I wrapped my arm around Holden’s waist and leaned my head into his shoulder, smiling at Lucas. “Lovely to see you. We should be going, though.”
“Oh.” Willow seemed surprised we didn’t want to stay. “We were just heading to the restaurant for dinner. There’s a guest chef in from South Africa who makes the most orgasmic quail.” Her attention shifted to Holden when she said orgasmic. “Won’t you join us?”
That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard.
“Sounds great,” Holden said, never taking his eyes off Lucas. “Don’t you think so, Luke?”
“I don’t know if—” Lucas began to protest, but Willow tugged his sleeve like a little girl begging a parent for candy.
“Don’t say no, please. It’ll be fun. Don’t you think it will be fun, Secret?”
Did I think having dinner with my ex-fiancé, his movie-star girlfriend and my vampire lover would be fun? No. Fun was not the word I would have chosen.
Holden was only agreeing to rub our relationship in Lucas’s face. Desmond and Holden might have disliked each other, but they still worked together for the common good and could pretend to be nice in order to appease me.
Holden and Lucas hated each other. Reviled each other. Their feelings about each other made Holden and Desmond’s relationship look like a bromance. There was no way in hell this dinner was a good idea. But if I could get Lucas alone, however briefly, I might be able to find out where we stood as far as our werewolf marriage went. I was within arm’s reach of him and had yet to taste anything remotely like cinnamon. And my wolf didn’t feel the tug to be near him she once had.
It was like all the signs I’d once used as evidence of our soul-bond had vanished. I didn’t know anyone else I could ask because it didn’t seem fair to quiz Desmond on it. Not when my relationship with Lucas was what had forced our breakup in the first place.
“Sure,” I said finally. “Why not?”
Chapter Eighteen
Maxime had held back during the conversation, and when Willow and Lucas went ahead to the restaurant, he came forward.
“Evening plans have changed somewhat, Max,” I said, and heaved a sigh. “If you don’t mind getting the rooms ready, Holden and I are going to have…dinner.”
Instead of asking why a pair of vampires would have any interest in going to a human restaurant, Maxime gave a small bow and went on his way, no questions asked.
“What are you trying to prove here?” I grumbled to Holden when we were alone. “Lucas isn’t a threat to you anymore.”
“Lucas was never a threat to me.” He rolled his eyes.
“He and I almost got married,” I reminded him. “Big white dress, fancy ceremony. You were there, I know you remember.”
“I do remember it. I remember him not coming, and I remember you almost dying. So you’ll have to forgive me if I say again—Lucas was never a threat to me.”
“If you really think that, why are we doing this?”
“Because I dislike him. And I hate what he did to you. Hell, I don’t like what he did to Desmond. If I can sit across from him for an hour and make his life half as miserable as he made yours, I’m going to do it. He didn’t deserve you, but he does deserve some anguish for all the trouble.”
I couldn’t fight back the smile that snuck onto my lips at his speech. “Are you sure you’re not doing this so you can grope me in front of him?”
“How do you think I’m going to remind him what he’s missing?” He winked as he offered his arm. I was so relieved to have my old Holden back, I didn’t much care that it was his hatred for Lucas that had brought him to me.
We joined Lucas and Willow in the dining room where we’d been given a table in a secluded corner. Still, some of the patrons were pivoting in their seats to get a glimpse of the famous actress. She looked older in person than she did on film, but it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
The lines in her mocha-colored skin gave her more depth, made it seem like she actually smiled and frowned in real life, and not just in front of the camera. Her black hair was cut in a cute pixy crop, which might have explained why I didn’t recognize her right away. She normally had long wavy hair—I think I’d read she was part Hawaiian—so the short do changed her appearance a lot.
Not enough to keep people from recognizing her though.
“I like your haircut,” I said when the silence was starting to get awkward.
Her hands went to it as if to feel if it was as short as she remembered. “Really? Are you sure? I’m still not used to it.”
For some reason this flash of insecurity endeared her to me. Here was one of the most beautiful women in the world, and she was worried what I thought about her haircut.
“Yeah, it makes your eyes look even bigger.”
She giggled, fanning her long lashes at me as if I were now the best catch in the room. Amazing how some women could turn on the charm like that.
When I’d been younger, Calliope had tried to give me a lesson in flirting. Since she’d once been one of the most sought-after women in the world, it made her an ideal source for tips. In one phase of her life she’d been Marilyn Monroe, so I recognized a Marilyn-style eyelash fan when I saw one. This girl was good. I hadn’t learned half as much from Calliope in person as Willow had from watching her movies.