Chapter 55 The Invitation
The drive back from the docks had been silent, but the air in the car was no longer charged with the sharp, biting static of our mutual hatred. It was something heavier, thicker—a pressurized silence that made my skin hum. I kept stealing glances at Nate’s profile in the dim light of the dashboard. He was still the man who had manipulated my parents, but I couldn't unsee the grease on his hands or the way he had leaned into that iron lever to help Elias. I had wanted him to be a one-dimensional villain, a caricature of wealth I could easily loathe. But the math was changing.
By the time I sat in my first lecture at Alverstone later that morning, my exhaustion felt like a layer of frosted glass between me and the world. The school, however, was buzzing at a frequency that surpassed the usual academic dread.
"The Salvatore Estate," a girl in the row ahead of me whispered, her voice tight with envy as she scrolled through her phone. The "Spotted" app was a wildfire of speculation. "It’s official. The invites for the 'Beach Trip' go out today. My brother said if you aren't on that list, you might as well drop out and go to state school."
I tuned them out, resting my head on my hand. I had a double shift at the cafe after class, a younger sister with a science project about tectonic plates, and a total lack of interest in watching Alverstone’s elite play polo on the sand. I didn't belong in their world, and after the docks, I wasn't even sure I wanted to understand it.
But ten minutes into the lecture, the heavy doors at the back of the hall opened. A shadow fell over my desk, and the frantic scribbling of pens around me stopped. Nate wasn't wearing his rugged work jacket anymore. He was back in the Alverstone blazer, the King reclaimed, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—a memory of the 3:00 AM dark—that he didn't quite hide from me.
"You’re coming to the estate," he said. It wasn't a question. It wasn't even an invitation. It was a statement of fact, delivered with the casual authority of a man used to directing global logistics.
"I have two shifts at the cafe, Nate," I said, my voice rising just enough to make the Professor pause. "I have a life that doesn't involve private beaches. I'm not your tutor for the weekend. I'm not on the payroll for extracurricular activities."
"I'm not asking you to tutor me there," he said, leaning down so his voice was a low vibration intended only for me. The scent of cedar and cold air still seemed to cling to him. "I’m asking you to come as my personal guest."
The room went cold. "Guest" was a loaded word in this building. As a tutor, I was a service—a necessary tool. As a guest, I was a statement. It was a move that would put a bullseye on my back for every girl in the school. It was Nate officially pulling me out of the shadows and placing me directly in the center of the Salvatore sun.
"No," I said, though my heart was betraying me with a frantic, treasonous thud. "I can't just leave my life for a week. I can't leave Eliza to cover my shifts, and I can't leave my sisters alone with my parents just because you snapped your fingers."
Nate didn't look frustrated. He looked prepared. He reached into the inner pocket of his blazer and pulled out a heavy, cream-colored envelope. He didn't hand it to me; he set it on my textbook, pinning down the pages of my notes.
"I know you don't want to be alone in a room full of people who don't understand you," he said.
I opened the envelope with trembling fingers. Inside were two first-class travel vouchers and a formal itinerary. One was in my name. The other was blank, but Nate’s gaze was steady, knowing.
"One for you," Nate said, his voice dropping to that silken, dangerous register. "And one for Eliza. I've already spoken to the owner of the cafe—a Salvatore associate. Her shifts are covered, and yours are officially suspended with pay for the duration of the trip. I’m not asking you to be alone, Mila. I’m asking you to come and see what it’s like to be on the other side of the glass."
"You're bribing me," I whispered, the weight of the tickets feeling like lead in my hands. "You're using my best friend as leverage."
"I’m removing your excuses," he corrected. He stood up, towering over me once again, the mask of the untouchable heir firmly back in place. "I know Eliza hasn't left the city in three years. I know she’s tired. You can stay here and be 'principled' in the dark, or you can give her a week of sunlight. The choice is yours."
He didn't wait for an answer. He walked away before I could respond, leaving the entire lecture hall staring at me. The whispers started instantly—sharp, jagged sounds that made me want to shrink into the floorboards.
I left class early, my head spinning. I found myself at the cafe an hour before my shift, the vouchers crumpled in my bag. Eliza was behind the counter, looking exhausted, her eyes still red-rimmed from the situation with Gavin. When I showed her the tickets, she didn't jump for joy. She looked at them with a mixture of awe and terror.
"Mila," she breathed, touching the heavy paper. "He did this for me? No... he did this for you. He knew you wouldn't leave me behind."
"It's a trap, Liz," I said, leaning against the counter. "If we go, we're playthings for the week. We're the 'townie entertainment' for the Salvatore elite."
"Maybe," Eliza said, looking out the window at the gray, slushy street. "But I've never seen the ocean, Mila. Not the real ocean. Just the oily water at the pier. And if Nate Salvatore wants to fly us to a mansion just to prove he can, why shouldn't we let him? Why should the rich be the only ones who get to breathe fresh air for a week?"
I looked at my best friend. She looked so small, so worn down by a life of shifts and heartbreaks. Nate had known exactly what he was doing. He hadn't just bought my parents; he had found the one person, besides my sisters, I couldn't say no to and offered her the world.
"The car leaves Friday at noon," I told her, my voice hollow.
"Are we going to be in it?" she asked.
I thought about the docks. I thought about the grease on Nate’s hands and the weight of the legacy he carried. I thought about the target on my back and the way my heart had sped up when he called me his guest.
"Pack your bags, Liz," I said. "We're going to the beach."