Page 23 of What the Hex
Nothing he cared to talk about anyway. Arlo might be his closest friend, but even he didn’t know about King’s dysfunctional family. No one did, and he planned to keep it that way.
For at least the next hour.
Even if Storm hadn’t just risked his entire career for him, the shifter was still his mate. He supposed the argument could be made that being bonded by fate was actually a damn good reason to keep him in the dark. It would be kinder, for sure, but it wasn’t very practical. Besides, he didn’t want to build their future on a foundation of lies and secrets.
Storm deserved better than that, and frankly, so did he.
Maybe.
Probably.
“My family wants to meet Storm,” he said, realizing he had to give Arlo something.
“That’s great!”
He didn’t know what expression he wore, but Arlo’s smile slowly faded, his excitement deflated, and he started shaking his head.
“Or not.”
“They’re just a little judgmental.”
Arlo snorted. “He’s rich, famous, and not to mention, gorgeous. What fault could they possibly find?”
“How do I count the ways?” he mumbled under his breath.
First, Storm was a shifter. As far as his parents were concerned, that meant an automatic strike against him. Yeah, he had fame and fortune going for him, but being an actor wasn’t the same as being a surgeon. Or an attorney. Or anything else that required a billion years of university and just as much money in student debt.
Despite his success in the film industry, Storm still planned to take over his parents’ farm one day. He’d even obtained degrees in agriculture and business management in preparation. Any reasonable person would consider it an admirable goal, but King knew his family wouldn’t see it that way.
The judgment wouldn’t end there, either. Storm wore baseball caps, and he ate fries with his fingers. Unforgiveable offenses in his mother’s eyes.
His family would also dissect the way Storm walked and talked. How he sat. His posture. If he was too friendly or not friendly enough. Too forthcoming or too guarded. The car he drove. The type of cell phone he used. If he slept on his back or his side. The heavens forbid he slept on his stomach.
The list of possible sins was endless and ever changing. Meaning, he had zero chance of preparing his mate for the interaction.
“Don’t stress about it,” Arlo encouraged. “I’m sure they’ll love him.”
“You’re probably right.” He didn’t actually agree, but he did appreciate the show of support. “Thanks.”
“Hey, I need to check on something real quick.” Arlo’s gaze darted to the service door at the back of the room. “Can you keep an eye on things here?”
“Of course.”
The abruptness seemed kind of weird, but he didn’t ask questions. Not only because it was none of his business, but also because he got the sense that it didn’t relate to work. Arlo looked tense, and King was pretty sure he’d seen someone disappear through the service door only a few seconds previously.
“Thanks.” Arlo patted him on the shoulder as he passed, but he didn’t look at him. “I’ll be right back.”
Right back turned out to be forty-five minutes later, right as Storm and Damien were wrapping up the event. Again, it was suspicious, but Arlo didn’t comment on what had kept him for so long. In fact, he didn’t bring it up at all, almost like his disappearance had never happened.
He did look more relaxed, though, if a little distracted.
“Everything okay?” King didn’t want to pry, but if something had happened, he wanted to help.
“All good.” Arlo gave him his signature million-watt smile that turned his already good looks into an almost ethereal beauty. “I’m going to see if Damien wants to change before we head to dinner. Do you and Storm have any plans?”
“We’re going to order room service.”
“Ohh, sexy.”