Claim Me: A Novel

looks somewhat familiar, but I can’t place her. Damien hasn’t seen him yet, but I know the exact moment when Ollie’s glance finds us.
    I’m not sure why I’m surprised that he’s here. After all, he works with Charles Maynard. The crowd shifts, and I see a pretty, dark-haired woman coming toward him with two drinks in her hands.
Courtney
. And then Ollie and Courtney and the other woman are all heading our way. I grab Damien’s hand and smile my Social Nikki smile. It is the first time I’ve felt the need to be so armed against Ollie, but I know that I need both the mask and Damien’s strength, and that knowledge makes me sad.
    “Nikki, Damien, it’s good to see you here.”
    “Ollie,” Damien says politely. He glances at the two women.
    “Courtney,” I say, “it’s so good to see you again.” I give her a little hug, then formally introduce her to Damien.
    “Great to meet you,” Courtney says, then turns her attention to me. “I’m planning a destination wedding shower, but I haven’t decided where yet.” She shifts toward Damien, including him as she speaks to me. “Tell me you two will come? And Jamie and Raine, too.”
    Automatically, my eyes dart to Ollie’s, but his expression is too guarded to read.
    “I’m looking forward to hearing all the details,” I say diplomatically. The truth is I’m not sure there is going to be a wedding, much less a shower. Courtney, however, doesn’t seem the least bit worried.
    The other woman with Ollie is introduced as Susan Morris. I keep my polite smile plastered on, but inside, I’m frowning, trying to figure out why her name is familiar.
    I’m about to ask, when Ollie continues. “Susan is directing the fashion show.”
    “I got my training in pageants,” Susan says, “although it wasn’t formal training. More like an apprenticeship.”
    “Susan Morris?” I say, finally clueing in. “Alicia Morris’s mother?” Susan Morris was almost as much of a stage mother as mine.
    “I was hoping you’d remember me,” she says. “Ollie said that Damien Stark was here with his girlfriend, and I just had to see you.”
    “I’m so glad you did,” Social Nikki says. The real me isn’t at all interested in this relic from my past. I can tell that Damien sees the real Nikki, because he squeezes my hand in support.
    “Your mother and I have stayed close. In fact, since I moved to Park Cities, we lunch together at least once a week,” she adds, referring to the affluent Dallas neighborhood where I grew up. “Italked to her just this morning, as a matter of fact.” Her voice is strangely tight, and I want nothing more than to get away from this woman who reminds me too much of my mother.
    “How nice,” I say. I flash my wide pageant smile. “I should really go check on my friend Jamie. It was lovely talking to you.”
    She takes a step sideways and blocks my departure. “Your mother is so mortified she can’t even hold her head up in public. And you haven’t been any help. You haven’t returned her calls or her emails. It’s terribly ungrateful, Nichole.”
    Ungrateful
. What the fuck?
    Damien steps closer to me. “I believe Nikki has already said that she needs to go check on her friend.”
    But Susan Morris is not taking the hint. She aims a finger at Damien. “And you! Elizabeth told me how you shipped her home just when Nichole needed her.”
    My mouth falls open. Needed her?
Needed her?
All I’d needed was for her to be gone.
    “And now you’ve dragged her into this … this … degrading lifestyle!” Susan Morris is speaking machine-gun fast, and with as much damage. “Posing nude. Erotic art. And accepting money like a common whore. It’s contemptible.” She literally spits the last word, and I see the tiny droplets of moisture fly from her mouth.
    I can only gape at her, my Social Nikki facade having shattered under this unexpected onslaught.
    Damien is not so frozen. He takes a step forward, his expression like thunder. I think vaguely that he will hurt her, and that I should hold out a hand to stop him. I don’t. All I can think about is the nausea and tightness and clammy coldness that has settled over me.
    “Get the hell out of here,” Damien says, his hands pressed firmly against his sides.
    “I will not,” she counters. “You think you can buy anything?Even a girl like Nichole in your bed? I know your type, Damien Stark.”
    “Do you?” He takes another step toward her, and she has the sense to look