His Price by Leah Holt Page A

table, I watched his dad stand and straighten his suit. His hands came down to tug on the trim, shifting up to adjust his tie. Brandon had deep gray hair, combed back nicely, not a single strand was out of place.
    Hegan's mother remained seated. She was wearing a light blue dress, small shiny sequins were layered across the top. Each tiny round spangle reflected the flicker of the candle set on the table.
    If I was out and saw these two people, I never would've pegged them as his parents. He looked like he was born from a different version of the two people at the table. From what I could see the only resemblance was the slight indent of Hegan's chin that matched his father's.
    “Why hello, here you guys are. Finally.” Brandon's stern words hit my ear. There was no joking with this man, I could see it already.
    Hegan inhaled a large huff of air, I watched his chest expand slowly as he spoke. “Hey, Dad. The roads were a bit rough, but we're here. Only five minutes after the time you said, not a big deal.”
    “Well, in my world you're on time if you're early. You should make note of that.”
    I could feel the tension between them, it was so strong you could slice it with a knife. They stared at each other like two dogs trying to lead the same pack. Eyes sizing each other up for the fight, ready to strike if either flinched in their movements.
    A soft voice floated from Brandon's side. “Honey, please.” Stella lifted her hand to his waist, gently resting her fingertips at the pocket of his suit.
    “Dad, this is—”
    Cutting Hegan off, I said, “Noella. I'm Noella, it's nice to meet you, Sir.” Extending my hand, he gripped it firmly.
    Hegan shot me a glance. He had only known me as Copper. Now he knew something real about me.
    He knew my name.
    I don't think he expected that. The wide gaze, and wrinkles crawling up his forehead; it painted a clear picture for me, I'd thrown him off guard.
    Did he really expect that I would sit here and be referred to as Copper? Please.
    There was no way in hell that I wanted to be here with his parents and have them calling me by that. Copper was my stage name, and as much as this was a play, I wasn't at the strip club. This was Hegan's real life, it deserved my real name.
    Besides, I hated that fucking name.
    “It's nice to meet you too. I'm Brandon, this is my wife Stella. Please, sit.” He flattened his coat against his chest as he sat back down.
    Turning to pull my chair out, I realized Hegan had already done that. He was standing behind me, holding the back of my seat, waiting for me to sit so he could push me in.
    Seriously? No guy... And I mean no guy, contains those manners anymore. Really?
    I was under the impression that gentlemen were only raised in the south now. They came in the form of cowboys, riding a bucking bronco and living at home till they were thirty just so they could help their mama.
    Didn't they?
    Hegan, a gentleman? Was it possible?
    Could the man who had just fucked me on the counter this morning, the man that wants to force me to have his child; really contain an ounce of chivalry? It blew my mind.
    “Thank you,” I said, sitting down. Cupping my hands in my lap, I would be lying if I didn't say I was nervous. My fingers braided together tightly, twitching against my thigh.
    His father looked so professional; prim and proper on all angles. His mother appeared to have been bred by a royal family. Her fingers touched everything with such finesse, such grace. Stella seemed to treat every item like it was made from the most fragile material on earth.
    “Noella, Hegan hasn't told us much about you. He tends to leave us in the dark these days.” Brandon flicked his eyes up, holding static for an instant, a long hard instant, on his son. “Where are you from?” Drifting back to his glass, his face sat motionless, elbows rested on the table holding up his chin.
    Pausing briefly, I thought about how much to reveal from my personal life. Should I be