Angel (Fallen Angel, #3)(36)

“They’re gonna think I corrupted you,” he muttered. “Forced you to join a rock band, sing filthy songs, and stay chained to my bed.”

“Well…I mean, you did.” I grinned as Viper opened his mouth like he was going to protest, and then I leaned in and gave him a quick kiss just as the elevator doors opened. With a squeeze of his hand, I said, “Showtime.”

We headed down the private hallway that led to the front lobby, and as soon as we were through the security door, Viper’s hand tightened on mine ever so slightly. I followed his gaze to where my parents sat on a plush silver couch speaking to a nearby couple, and then looked at Viper. His face was nothing but a perfect picture of cool and calm, though the grip he had on my hand said he was feeling otherwise. A small smile curved my lips, and then I squeezed his fingers and headed in my parents’ direction.

They had both dressed up for the occasion too, my father in a blue pinstriped suit and my mom in a silk blouse and cream wide-leg chiffon pants and heels. As we came to a stop beside them, they looked up, wide smiles spreading across their faces.

“Halo,” my mom said, getting to her feet, but then she seemed to remember she’d been in mid-conversation with the couple across from them and quickly excused herself before turning back to greet us. She drew me in for a hug and leaned up to kiss me on the cheek, no doubt leaving a mark from the soft pink lipstick she wore, and then she turned her attention to the man beside me. The one whose hand I was still holding.

“Viper. It’s wonderful to finally meet you,” she said, ignoring Viper’s outstretched hand to wrap her arms around him. “Our son’s told us so much about you, I feel like I already know you.”

Viper’s wide eyes met mine, his body frozen in shock, and it was a few seconds before he recovered and tentatively hugged my mom back. I could almost see what he was thinking: Holy shit, Cheryl Olsen’s hugging me. What the fuck do I do?

I bit back a laugh and shrugged before turning back to face my dad.

“Son,” he said, bear-hugging the shit out of me, which I returned with just as much force. It seemed to be a sort of competition now, who could hug each other tighter.

“Dad. Thanks for coming.”

“Wouldn’t miss it. Who knows when we’ll see you again.” He clapped me on the back, and his green eyes shimmered faintly. There seemed to be more he wanted to say, but he looked at Viper instead, where he was smiling down at my mom as she said something too low for me to hear.

“Dad, I’d like you to meet Viper,” I said, gesturing toward my boyfriend. Boyfriend. It still felt so strange. “Viper, my dad.”

“It’s good to meet you, sir,” Viper said, shaking the hand my dad proffered.

But if there was one thing I knew about my dad, it was that he preferred hugs over handshakes.

“You can call me Larry,” Dad said, before yanking Viper forward into a hug, clapping him on the back. “Happy to meet you too.”

Over Dad’s shoulder, Viper’s eyes grew even wider than they had with my mom, as if he couldn’t understand why he’d be so readily embraced by my family when he’d “corrupted their son,” in Viper’s words. But I’d known they’d love him. Every time we spoke, they’d ask me a million questions about him, about how the two of us were getting along, if people were “being nice to us.” They’d never questioned our relationship once I told them about Viper and me, and that freely given acceptance—even without having met Viper—had me feeling even more grateful for my parents. They didn’t care that he was a man, only that I was happy.

“I’m starving. You guys hungry?” Dad said as we headed for the restaurant. “I put our names down when we got here, so a table should be ready soon.”

But as we came to a stop in front of the hostess stand, she caught sight of Viper and immediately reached for four menus. “Good evening, Viper. Halo. If you’ll follow me, your table is ready.”

Dad’s eyebrows shot up, and I grinned and shrugged as we followed the hostess to Viper’s usual table, a booth in the back where the lighting was a bit dimmer and the table more secluded. Since we’d been together, I found that was his usual style, always grabbing the most private table he could, though that didn’t do much to cover the fact that we had to walk through the restaurant to get there in some cases, including now.

Throughout the room, eyes traveled over Viper, who walked with an air of confidence—even if you didn’t know who he was, you knew he was someone. Then the gazes would travel to me, and if they hadn’t put two and two together already, they usually did when they saw me with him. I didn’t know if they recognized me from the band because they knew who Viper was and assumed, or if it was from the music videos we’d shot, or from photos in the tabloids and magazines, but it was clear as day in their eyes when recognition hit.

“Thank you,” Viper said as we all took our seats, me and Viper across from my folks.

“The usual to drink?” the hostess asked Viper.

“Not tonight. I think we’ll have a bottle of the Ganevat ‘Marguerite’ C?tes du Jura 2012, if that works for everyone?” Viper glanced around the table, and he must’ve chosen well, because surprise lit my parents’ faces.

“That would be wonderful,” Mom said, smiling warmly at Viper, who gave me a squeeze of thanks beneath the table. I might’ve mentioned my parents’ penchant for a good Chardonnay when we were planning this evening, and though neither of us were big on white wine, I knew how important it was to Viper to make a good impression. But my man didn’t have to try—he already had them in the palm of his hand.