His mother is side-eyeing him but Nick doesn't care.

He's never heard of brunch before but it's heavenly stuff. Nick is reaching for all the foods he can find, tasting and biting into crunchy bagels spread with thick cream, lobster-stuffed puffs, soft, rippling crepes still dripping with sweet honey. Even the toast is a dream.

"You want to leave some for the rest of us?" Will jokes but his eyes are wide, clearly impressed with how fast Nick can eat.

"Nah," Nick says, swallowing thickly. "You're all rich – you can buy your own."

"So are you," Theo puts in.

The reminder pulls Nick up short and he almost chokes on a mouthful of crisp bagel. He can't believe he'd actually forgotten. He's so used to eating and grabbing as much as he can because if you didn't fight, you didn't eat. Nick hopes nobody can see that his pockets are bulging with food and he tentatively clenches his overflowing plate.

Will and Theo are eyeing him strangely so Nick lets out a quick bark of laughter. "Thanks for the reminder," he says easily and the curious tension breaks. "What exactly is this brunch thing for, anyway? Elliot didn't say anything but that there would be food."

"Some fancy company merger," Will is saying, shrugging in answer. "Business talk. Your mum will probably know, seeing as they're throwing this whole thing for her."

Nick blinks in surprise. His gaze drifts to his mother who is laughing with Elliot's hopeful parents and surrounded by even more hopeful guests. She might have mentioned something on the awkward car ride over, he thinks.

To keep himself from replying, he stuffs more food into his mouth and Will continues to talk about a game he's been playing before Elliot's father clears his throat and taps against his glass with a spoon. Nick's eyebrows arch up before he can stop himself, unimpressed, but he doesn't have time for whatever new flattery they want to dollop heavily onto his mother so he picks up his plate and sneaks away as best he can.

He's standing a little away from the rest of the crowd of guests, scarfing the food down hungrily, when someone clears their throat deliberately.

"It's polite to listen to the speeches first before you start shovelling food into your mouth like a primitive ape," Madison says, her voice dry.

She tears her gaze away from the painting of the atlas to look at him, clearly unimpressed. The rich, snotty girl is about to walk away but Nick is bristling.

"And you're the poster child of manners, are you?" he retorts.

Madison stops and stiffens, turns her body to face him. Her dress falls against her hips in soft cascading ripples, but Nick won't let himself get distracted. She glowers at him angrily.

"You ought to apologise to Elliot," she tells him, her voice biting and furious. "The sheer nerve you have, to beat him to a pulp and then to enter his house so shamelessly and eat his food like a starving pig."

Nick is brimming over with fury. "It's not your business," he bites out through gritted teeth, taking a step closer to her in an attempt to intimidate her into backing down.

"My friend, my business," Madison hisses back angrily and holds his angry gaze, her head tilted up towards him.

"Just your friend, is it?" Nick repeats cuttingly, his large, hulking frame towering over her lithe, small figure. "What a good friend you are but I've never seen you this passionate about the other shallow bitches you hang out with. What is it, then? Do you like Elliot? Do you love him?"

His words seem to make her only grow in fury, her eyes blazing towards him. "It may be an obscure notion to you, the idea that I could be anything but shallow," Madison says angrily. "But you're showing your own hypocrisy, Hawthorne boy. Call me and my friends shallow, but what are you, but shallow enough to think we're just labels? You're just a thug, with mummy issues, who doesn't belong here."

He's more furious than he could ever be, clenching his fists tightly.

Nick glares down at her angrily. "My name is Nick –,"

"I'll call you by your name if you earn it –,"

"And you're not a shallow girl, I take it back," Nick says, his voice rasping and rough, and his fingers settle against the hard edge of the table they are next to. "You're a cruel, selfish bitch."

Madison is breathing hard, her eyes blazing.

"Look at you, then," she snaps. "Parading around, so wrapped up in your own delusions, thinking you're better than all of us, judging us for what we are. At least, our masks are our own. You're just a hypocritical, self-righteous asshole."

The air between them is taut and crackling with brimming fury and tension. Both he and Madison are glowering at each other, their bodies so close to each other that Nick can see the fiery light in her eyes. Her words are venomous and Nick is so furious that he moves and suddenly, the table beside them is crashing down against the wall.

It is turned over on its side, empty plates having splintered and scattered across the floor, making Nick feel guilty. There'd been no food but the plates and the cutlery look expensive.

Both of them jump at the sound, surprise crossing their faces quickly, and they pull away from each other, breathing hard. Nick didn't realise how close they'd been until he moves away from her, realising that they'd been hissing and snarling into each other's faces.

Madison's eyes are still bright and raging.

"I don't know what you're still doing in this city," she snarls out viciously, catching her breath. "Nobody wants you here. All you're doing is embarrassing your mother."

The comment about his mother rankles and Nick breathes hard.

"What?" she taunts as a few guests begin to drift over to their side, having heard the commotion. "Are you going to flip another table? Make another display and show everyone how fragile your masculinity is?"

He can see his mother, her eyes widening as she cuts swiftly through the crowd, hurrying towards him. But Nick's focused on Madison now, smug, furious Madison, who thinks she's better than everyone here, who is quite genuinely the most infuriating person he's ever met.

"Go get something to eat," Nick bites out venomously and from the way the light in her eyes flash with uncertainty, he knows he's got her. "And you're one to talk, anyway, princess. You think anyone wants your insufferable ass around here? You think anyone wants you here because you're a good friend? You only bring your name to the table, princess, and even that's not going to be enough one day."

"Stop talking," his mother hisses out at him and she grips his arm tightly.

He's so surprised that she parted through the crowds to grab him that he lets his mother drag him out of the house. The car is already pulling up but Nick hates it, hates the confining, awkward state, and yearns for the freedom of his motorbike. He is still brimming over with uncontrollable emotion but his mother is rubbing the crease between her brows.

"I can't think how you could be so cruel to embarrass me and start a fight with Madison Sutton, of all people," she says finally, her cheeks flushed.

Nick feels his stomach curling in guilt before he shakes his head. He's not the only one at fault. "She started it way before I ever did," he says, before he realises that's not quite true either. "I didn't mean –,"

"You can't be scared by a Sutton," she says, her voice almost a tired sigh. "You're a Hawthorne, Nick."

"No, I'm not," he says instantly but his voice is too quiet and she hasn't heard.

"I understand," his mother continues, taking a deep, steadying breath as she steeples her hands, "that this world is new to you. I understand that you've lived a harsh life. Which is why I excuse most of your actions but this? This is my business, Nick. And I understand that you don't have the best impression of me but you're going to have to get over that. Because this world is all about reputation and money."

He's torn between wanting to be furious that she thinks she knows anything about him – for how could she, when she's missed out on seventeen years of his life? – and guilty that he's put a wrench in the works of her business. Instead, his mother makes the decision for him, just as she's done ever since Nick first met her.

"Just – just get in the car, Nicholas," she says and her voice is too harsh.

Nick flinches before he can stop himself and stiffens in defence, his shoulders held taut. He parts his lips to insist he will be walking, to tell her to stop interrupting him and telling him what to do, when his mother looks tired and guilty all at once.

"Sorry," she says, her voice heavy as she turns to him with apologetic eyes. "I know your file said that you don't –,"

"I'm not a file!"

His voice is short and curt.

Instead of getting in the car, Nick walks away.

*