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“Yes?” I asked, unease creeping in.
“Well, Iwasplanning to take a nap.” She playfully pouted. “Unfortunately, someone decided he justhadto stick his dick in me, so those plans are shot to hell.”
Laughing, I rolled onto my side, pulling her into my arms. “I didn’t hear any complaints from you.”
“And you won’t. No regrets.”
I pressed a soft kiss to her nose. “No regrets.”
“No regrets,” she confirmed.
Although I had a feeling once she learned the truth, she’d regret everything about this.
ChapterTwenty-Four
Gideon
A sea of women in designer dresses and men in tuxedos surrounded me as I entered the ballroom, a server in coattails and white gloves offering me a glass of champagne from his silver tray. I gave him a nod of thanks as I took one before continuing farther into the lavish space.
Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, soft melodies from a string quartet adding to the elegant ambience. Dozens of servers floated gracefully through the room, carrying trays ofhors d’oeuvres. Several high-top tables were set up near the bar for guests to mingle and enjoy their drinks. Along one wall, a handful of rectangular tables displayed various items for a silent auction, tempting attendees with luxurious one-of-a-kind prizes.
As I expected, I didn’t know most of the people here. Despite this weekend benefiting the charity I’d founded, Liam seemed to have forgotten about many of the board members and volunteers who worked tirelessly to make sure kids in similar situations as me didn’t end up on the streets or turning to a life of crime.
Instead, the majority of the attendees had a certain social status Liam coveted.
As I walked farther into the room, I spied Melanie at one of the high-top tables with her parents and started toward her, figuring Imogene wasn’t too far away.
But as I passed an easel displaying a large portrait, I froze in my tracks.
I came into this weekend fully aware I would come face-to-face with people from my past. I hadn’t expected to come face-to-face with my old self.
After escaping my hellish prison and enduring various reconstructive surgeries on my face to repair years’ worth of damage, looking into a mirror had been a struggle. At least in those early days. I felt like I was staring at a stranger.
Now, as I studied the portrait of the person I used to be, I felt the same way. Like I was looking at a stranger.
His vibrant smile seemed to mock me with his happiness, his eyes filled with a life and joy I could no longer recognize within myself. He exuded a carefree ease, one I could only dream of having again. It was almost surreal to see him —me.
As if I didn’t have a care in the world.
As if my former best friend wasn’t already planning how to dispose of me, all for the almighty dollar.
“That’s Samuel Tate.”
I tore my gaze away from the portrait, my pulse kicking up at how stunning Imogene looked in her long, black formal gown, her blonde waves cascading down to her midback.
“He died, correct?” I asked, playing dumb since she hadn’t yet shared anything about Samuel with me.
“He was shot by a kid he’d been mentoring.” She fully faced me. “Samuel grew up in the foster care system. While some kids have a great experience and end up having a better childhood than they ever could have with their birth parents, that wasn’t the case with Samuel. He shared some of the things he endured…” She visibly shivered, tears welling in her eyes once more. She took a moment to collect herself.
“Suffice it to say, he had a rough childhood. Had anger issues. Until someone took him under his wing and taught him martial arts. He once told me that martial arts wasn’t about learning how to fight. It was more about learning control and discipline. It saved his life. Allowed him to go to college on a wrestling scholarship and earn a degree in computer programming. That alone changed everything for him, especially when the gaming platform he’d developed with Liam took off. After that, he used his newfound wealth to start a program like the one that saved his life.”
“He’s the one, isn’t he?” I asked after a beat.
She darted her eyes to mine. “What do you mean?”
I narrowed my gaze at her, dropping my voice. “Earlier, you said you hadn’t been with anyone who meant something to you in quite a few years. It was him, wasn’t it?” I nodded toward the portrait. “The man who meant something?”
“He stilldoesmean something to me. If that upsets you, I apologize,” she added quickly. “Heisa part of my past. Always will be. But I’m trying to stop living in my past.”
