First to Fail (Unraveled #3) - Marie Johnston Page 0,47

was like she’d thought she’d be disowned if her parents discovered we were sleeping together. It turned out that hadn’t been far off the mark.

But Natalia wasn’t a scared seventeen-year-old girl. She was independent and had an enviable career. I refused to be ashamed of where I was in my life; I was exactly where I wanted to be. And that included spending the night with her.

Voices drifted upstairs.

“I, um, had a friend over last night.” Natalia never lacked conviction, but she could pass for Jaycee the way she talked to her parents.

“Oh?” That must be her mother. And she didn’t sound thrilled. “I was concerned you were going to wear that outfit to the restaurant.”

Harsh.

“Well, invite him along.” Natalia’s dad. “I have a reservation at Nicolette Island Inn. It should be no problem to accommodate another.”

“Uh…”

I paused at the top of the stairs and waited for the rest of her response.

“I’m not sure he can make it.” Natalia’s back came into view. She had herded her parents away from the entry to where they couldn’t see the stairs.

I descended, my stocking feet not making a sound. My back straight, proud, I turned the corner. Natalia wasn’t facing me. Her parents noticed me first. Had they ever worn a stitch of denim in their life? The way her mother’s manicured eyebrows rose and her gaze drifted down me, growing more dismayed as it went, probably not.

Natalia’s father was dressed in slacks and shoes that cost more than any pair in my closet, and I still had every pair I’d ever bought that weren’t athletic shoes. The black peacoat the man wore was trendy and kept him from looking older than his sixty-ish years. Given the more traditional threads Natalia’s mom was sporting, his choice was probably a style risk in their world.

Natalia spun around. “Chris. Mother, Father, this is Chris Halliwell.”

Her father stepped around her and extended his hand. “Bertram Preston.” My heart stammered at the last name. Natalia’s family really were the owners and founders of that damn school. “This is my wife, Carina. Halliwell, you said?”

Carina politely inclined her head, but she kept her hands tucked into her front pockets as she assessed him. A flash of understanding hit me—this was why Natalia acted the way she did in various situations. She and her mother were nothing alike. Or were they more alike than either imagined?

Natalia put her hand on my shoulder. “Chris is an alum of Preston, actually.”

Approval lit Bertram’s eyes and Carina’s body language softened, if only going from as rigid as lead to as hard as steel.

I smiled, summoning the charm I reserved for winning customers and suppliers over. “Yes. I was awarded a basketball scholarship.”

Bertram’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “And I’m sure the trophies are proudly displayed. What do you do now?”

Natalia jumped at the answer before I could. “He’s a business owner.”

I leveled my gaze on her. Guilt flashed in her eyes, but at least she had enough conscience not to hide it.

I was good enough in bed, but not good enough for her family.

No. I wasn’t playing this game. Not again.

I met Bertram’s gaze. “I co-own a comic book and gaming shop.” I could mention that their daughter was a customer, but that wasn’t my fight. If she wanted to hide parts of herself from the various worlds she lived in, that was her issue.

Carina cocked her head like she wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. “A what?”

“The Arcadia. It’s a comic book and gaming shop. We also host related events.”

“Chris used to be on the—”

I cut Natalia off without looking at her. “It doesn’t matter what I used to be. I’m a dad now, and I enjoy my work. Speaking of which, I should go pick up my daughter.”

Bertram’s brows lifted. “Daughter?”

Why the surprise? Many men my age had children. Or were the Prestons used to having “people” for their children?

“She’s a student,” Natalia said, her voice soft. “Third generation.”

I had to give it to her. She hadn’t given up on what was the good fight in her eyes.

“It was nice meeting you both.” What a lie.

I stepped away and went in search of my shoes and coat. Thankfully, they were by the garage entrance and out of view of her parents. I sensed Natalia behind me but ignored her as I stepped into my loafers.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Yeah” was all I could say.

I grabbed my coat off the hook and didn’t bother throwing it on. She trailed me into the