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Chapter Thirty-Three
They talked with Jethro and Sable for a while and it was nice. Easy and comfortable. He’d have to fill Saoirse in later about Jethro and Sable’s whirlwind romance and how he’d been involved. She might like to know, too, that he suspected Sable and Jethro had a very similar relationship to theirs.
Eventually they’d been besieged by Renata and David, and after brief greetings Sable and Jethro excused themselves to speak with a former business associate of Sable’s. When Renata had dragged David off to speak with guests who were more important than Saoirse and himself, Arthur took advantage of the quiet to get Saoirse something to eat and a glass of water. He wouldn’t have her starving or thirsty and he knew she was probably somewhat overwhelmed with this many people—not to mention this much alcohol around—and might forget to eat or drink.
He ached to feed her with his fingers, feel her plush lips and sharp little teeth close around his fingertips but that would have to wait until they got home. Much as he’d like to, they couldn’t do that here. Yes, they’d have to tell Renata about their relationship sometime but he didn’t relish the idea and they sure as hell weren’t going to do it now given that she’d accuse them of trying to steal her thunder or ruin her night. Because narcissists didn’t change.
He shook his head of thoughts of Renata because he was here for Saoirse and only Saoirse. It warmed his heart when she pressed her body alongside his to murmur quietly, “Daddy, may I have a glass of champagne? It’s my favorite kind and it matches my dress.”
She had been doing a really good job this evening and it was good for her to be able to have a drink socially. And she was right—the pale gold color did match the satin ribbon at her waist.
“Okay, my bubbly little princess,” he said, smiling into her bright blue eyes and loving the healthy pink of her cheeks. “But just the one. Promise?”
“Yes, Daddy, I promise.”
“Go on then.”
The sweet smile she gave him before getting on tiptoes to kiss his cheek was enough to melt his heart. God, she was darling. And yes, it was going to be extremely unpleasant to tell Renata they were together but he’d do it because he couldn’t not be with Saoirse. The very thought of it made his stomach turn.
Seeing her prance through the crowd in that dress with the bow above her deliciously ripe bottom was too tempting for words. Especially when she glanced over her shoulder, seeking him in the crowd.
He waved from his station that he wouldn’t abandon so she’d know where to find him once she’d retrieved her treat. Not that he enjoyed her nervousness but he did find a deep gratification in being able to soothe her, to be something steady in a world that had always been out of control and topsy-turvy through no fault of her own.
* * *
David was not her favorite. Like of her mothers’ husbands—clearly Arthur wore that crown, had even before he’d become her daddy—but also in general. Probably because she was not his favorite either. But here he was, rolling up to her in his tuxedo like they were besties who hadn’t seen each other in a month.
“Saoirse! So good to see you.”
He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her toward him to kiss her cheek and she hated it. He’d never been affectionate with her and she didn’t want him to be. And why was he doing this now?
She mumbled something that she tried to make sound vaguely like she was glad to see him too without actually saying it. She would not perjure herself.
“Where are you off to?”
“Oh, just to get a glass of champagne.”
“Is that really a good idea?” he asked with a condescending dickish look she wanted to punch right off his face.
“Yes, it’s fine.”
She didn’t owe him a fucking explanation and she wouldn’t give one so she stood there and glared while he foundered. Yes, her daddy liked it when she had good manners but surely he’d forgive her for being snappish with David when he was being a jerkwad.
“Then let me get one for you. There’s a crowd at the bar but I’ll sneak in and pour one.”
“Um, thanks?”
There wasn’t any reason she couldn’t get it herself, although she wouldn’t mind being able to get back to Arthur sooner. Maybe they could go soon. They’d done their duties—shown up, socialized. Well, a little.
She wanted to go home, back to her diapers and her bottles and her paci and her blocks and her crib. She’d ask Daddy to read her a story tonight when he tucked her in because she would desperately need some little time when this was over.
It was only a couple of minutes before David was back with a flute of champagne that she accepted with a murmured “thank you.”
She attempted to make small talk with the man but he mostly seemed to be looking over her shoulder. Why did they even have to go through this painful charade? It’s not as though her mother was even looking at them. She was too busy holding court in the corner.
Not knowing what the hell else to do, Saoirse took another sip of champagne. She was trying to savor it and would probably be able to if she were with Arthur because being with her daddy gave her something else to enjoy. But talking to David? The dry bubbles that cleared her sinuses were by far the best thing that was happening to her right now.
David tracked the glass coming away from her lips, seemed to measure how big a sip she’d taken and she wanted to smash the flute upside his head.
“Just don’t embarrass your mother,” he admonished with a wave of his finger.
One fucking glass, she thought.I can have one fucking glass of champagne.Even when she’d been at her most intoxicated she hadn’t been a loud or belligerent drunk.
Saoirse gave him a tight smile. “Congratulations,” she said before adding under her breath, “on surviving being married to Renata for a whole year.”
And no longer feeling even a tiny bit charitable toward this ballsac for brains, she walked away.
