Page 30 of Bonds of Shame, Bonds of Lust

"Lacey. Are you okay, honey?" Janice interrupted my thoughts.

I startled. "Jesus, Janice."

"Did Ricardo scare you? I wasn't paying attention, did he—"

I let out a single loud laugh, almost a shout, and Janice twitched back, alarmed.

"Lacey?"

"No," I said. "No, it wasn't Ricardo." Ricardo with the mouth. "Let's just go."

We got in her Jeep. The first few minutes were silent. I looked out the window. I felt cut loose from reality, as if an enormous event had happened, and at the same time it was nothing at all.

Janice looked worried now.

"It's okay, Janice. It's not catastrophic."

Her shoulders came down a fraction.

"Can you talk to me about it?" she asked, soft.

I looked back out the window. "You know me. I'm careful. I'm in control. I don't get drunk. I don't do drugs. I don't take risks." I shook my head. "But I lost control tonight." I shook it again. "It scared me. When my legs were open and I saw you, and I saw Ricardo." His mouth. "I knew I had to stop it, and for a second I couldn't. I wanted it so badly I stopped thinking. I humiliated myself." I looked over at her. "I don't do things like that, Janice."

The want came back at my own words. Please stop, I told the hunger.

"I'm not going to slip into headshrinker mode on you, so I'll just tell you what I think. Everything that happened in there was normal. Feeling so turned on you can't sit still is normal. Nothing you said or did or saw is unusual for that place, for me, or even for Ricardo." A beat. "Nobody else thinks you humiliated yourself."

I nodded. It helped.

"I'm sorry, Lacey." Janice's voice had gone quiet. "I really thought this would be good for you."

I wanted to reassure her. We drove the rest of the way in silence.

16 - GREENER THAN GRASS

Lacey

The Whitfield ballroom did what ballrooms do. Chandeliers. A string quartet. Women in heels and men in tuxedos and conversation that stayed under the music by mutual agreement.

I came through the lobby with my coat over my arm. The dress under it was midnight blue silk, spaghetti straps, a slit that had climbed an inch higher in the store mirror than I'd planned on and that I'd kept anyway.

The club had left a buzz running in me that wouldn't switch off. It had no business being here tonight. I had a donor to charm and an MRI suite to fund. I told it to be quiet and crossed the ballroom to the head table.

The head table sat elevated near the stage. Allie in sharp black. Jonah Reed and his wife Elena. Evelyn Cartwright in pearls beside Thomas. At the far end, alone with a wine glass in hand, in a tuxedo, was Derek Harrington.

I had not expected the tuxedo. Same gravity, same stillness, in a room that didn't come with his usual reasons for being grim. The silver at his temples caught the light.

I had stopped walking. Allie's voice brought me back.

"Lacey. You look stunning. We saved you the spot next to Mr. Harrington."

He turned to his name, his eyes inducing the throb I'd suppressed.

"Bonds," he said, and nodded.

I crossed the last six feet of carpet focused on my walk.

"Mr. Harrington." I nodded back.