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He rose, extending his hand but not moving otherwise. It was a dick move and the desire to roll my eyes at his arrogant behavior was strong.
“Hmm.” I sauntered forward, grasping his hand. “And you must be Max.”
His palms were sweatier than a crackhead jonesing for their next hit. A smug grin lit my face at his grimace when I squeezed his stubby fingers a tad harder than necessary.
“It’s Maxwell, actually.”
“Grab yourself a glass and join us, Luciano,” the senator offered.
Making my way to the bar, I poured two fingers of Glenfiddich, wanting desperately to shoot it back and pour another. Then, I crossed the room to sit in the wingback chair directly opposite from the two pretentious pricks.
“My father tells me you own a security firm with your brothers.”
“I do.”
“From what I’ve seen,” the older Daubson added, “your business is very lucrative.”
“Did you pull my financials, Senator?”
He chuckled but otherwise didn’t respond. I had no doubt he’d looked into me the second Emory said she was bringing a guest. Unlike him though, I had nothing to hide.
“What about you, Max? What do you do?”
“It’s Maxwell,” he snapped before inhaling roughly through his nose to regain his composure. “I followed in my father’s footsteps and became a highly successful lawyer. My firm has a waitlist a mile long of celebrities vying for our services.”
I nodded, wishing like hell I was anywhere except in this room, sharing the same air space with Emory’s douche canoe of a brother. If only he knew about the dirt I had on him. Maybe then he’d tone down his holier-than-thou attitude and play nice in the sandbox. Then again, maybe not. Either way, I was done with the niceties.
Putting the glass to my lips, I tipped my head back, draining the liquid in one gulp.
“It’s been a pleasure,” I said as I got to my feet. “But I think I’ll go see what’s keeping Emory.”
*****
“ARE YOU RUNNINGlow on cash?” Imogene asked with a straight face as she looked down at the plate the server placed in front of her.
Coughing behind my hand to hide the laugh threatening to break free, I couldn’t help but wonder the same thing. Myself, the senator, and Maxwell had all been served filet mignon with all the fixings, while Emory, her mother Martha, and Imogene had been given salad. Fancy looking salad by the looks of them, but salad nonetheless.
“No, Mother,” Martha quipped. “But I thought it would be rude to only serve Emory a salad.”
The fork hit my plate with a loud clang. Emory’s warm hand found my thigh under the table, caressing gently. But I didn’t heed her warning.
“And why wouldn’t Emory want a steak?” I spoke through clenched teeth.
“Just look at her,” Maxwell sneered.
The hand on my thigh squeezed this time as my clenched fists hit the table, rattling the plate next to it.
“Ignore him.” Her hushed voice broke through the deafening quiet.
“Where did I go wrong with you?” Imogene spoke before I had a chance.
“Excuse me?” Martha sputtered.
“Don’t play coy with me, daughter dearest. You should be thankful for the blessings you’ve received in your life, instead of looking down your nose at them.”
“You know nothing.”
“Oh, I know you sit here in your fancy apartment, wearing high-end clothes and dripping in jewelry you wouldn’t have been able to afford if it hadn’t been formymoney. Your father would roll over in his grave if he saw the way you treat your own flesh and blood.”
