Page 4 of Angels Are Falling

“He’s hot as hell.”

“That’s an understatement.”

The chatter I caught as we walked was amusing. A man with unlimited resources was something to gawk at, and Mr. Cavendish didn’t seem bothered by it at all. Nothing touched a man like him. With his type of wealth, he had nothing in common with the rest of us except for our shared mortality, and even that seemed uncertain. He could have anything and anyone that caught his eye.

Being rich was one thing, but this level of abundance seemed almost divine. What would life be like if I could also drop one hundred thousand dollars on a meal?

As an office manager, one hundred thousand dollars was two years’ salary. It would have meant a new car, a vacation, a savings account, and endless possibilities. Yet he spent it so casually you’d think it was the price of a cup of coffee. What kind of person could make something so extraordinary seem insignificant?

For once, I didn’t have to speculate from the crowd, wondering about someone like him from afar. I was finally invited into the inner circle of royalty. It was the lifestyle I gave up hoping for when I’d taken on my parents’ life.

He finally glanced down in our direction—a brief nod for me, and then his gaze traveled to Amelie and simply stopped. It wasn’t rude, but it lingered intentionally. He smiled, unhurried, and lifted two fingers in a small wave. Even as we edged toward the velvety rope separating the god from the mortals, I wondered whether I had conjured this fantasy.

A nod of his head, and security lifted the rope to let us enter. As we took the spiral staircase, wild theories about Mr. Cavendish echoed around the room. It seemed every table in the restaurant was talking about him.

“I saw him getting out of a Rolls-Royce La Rose Noire Droptail.”

“I thought they didn’t make those cars anymore.”

“Do you think he’s in the mafia?”

“It must be something criminal. How else does he have this kind of money?”

For some reason, I wanted to come to Mr. Cavendish’s defense. One glance at him, and you would know he wasn’t in the mafia, nor was he a criminal. A man like him couldn’t be anything but well-bred from birth, and I couldn’t resist being pulled into his orbit.

But the closer I got, the more exposed I felt. I had chided my sister for not dressing the part, but next to his custom suit, I looked like a man wearing his idea of nice clothes.

I glanced slyly at Amelie. All that was left from her previous life was a closet full of designer labels. It pained me how long she had gone without an upgrade and how many items in her closet had been mended to withstand the last four years of wear and tear. She never complained about living within our means.

At least she looked great for a fancy night out, but I wondered if showing up with a man in a weathered maroon sports jacket, off-white shirt, and cream-colored slacks had embarrassed her. Even the servers in tuxes were dressed better than I was.

I felt increasingly self-conscious as we came face-to-face with the larger-than-life man. Being near him had a gravitational quality. Everyone else felt slightly less real.

“We meet again, Stefan Noble,” he said, extending his hand.

Was this something rich people did, greet you by your first and last name, because it sounded sophisticated?

“Mr. Cavendish,” I greeted, trying to keep my awe at bay. I shook his hand just as my six-year-old sister tried to leap toward him. “This is my sister.” I held her back, but barely. “Bella, can you say hi?”

She didn’t. Out of my three siblings, Bella was the unruliest. She refused to wear the dress we had picked out for tonight, insisting on a pair of baggy off-white pants and a white shirt with a purple vest over it. I couldn’t talk her out of her red fez, either, which she had stolen off an Abu plush action figure. She wore it everywhere like a security blanket.

I nodded at the twins circling my legs. “These are my brothers, Jamie and August. Today is their birthday.” Which explained our eagerness to accept this dinner invitation.

Yesterday, Amelie spent hours making paper crowns and baking a cake for the twins, but they were disappointed we couldn’t afford a party. They asked if we could take them out for dinner the way Mom and Dad used to. Amelie took one look at our bank account and had to nix that idea, too. That was when Kai ascended from the heavens and offered to treat us to a luxury restaurant.

“Happy birthday, young men,” Kai said politely to the twins.

“Thank you,” they replied in unison.

“How old are you today?”

Jamie held up fingers with both hands while August answered for him. “Eight.”

Of the three, August was the best behaved. He wore the tangerine shirt Amelie picked out without complaint. Meanwhile, Jamie had given us grief about his collar being buttoned and his red shirt being too stiff.

The twins were carbon copies, except for their attitudes and eyes. August’s eyes were a piercing green while Jamie’s were black. Both were skeptical and reserved around strangers.

Knowing the twins wouldn’t share more, Amelie stepped forward. “Hello again, Mr. Cavendish,” she said, giving him a full smile. I placed a hand on the small of her back.