AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Fourteen
Jenna watched Drew follow his uncle out of the crowded room, head up and shoulders back, like a soldier on the march. Her fingers were pressed to her tingling, just-kissed lips. She was shocked speechless. On the verge of tears.
She jumped up to follow him, and found Harold’s hot, damp fingers suddenly clamped around her wrist. “Jenna, no,” he murmured. “Let them go. Sit down.”
She jerked her wrist away. “With you? Why the hell should I do that?”
“Calm down,” Harold said. “I am not the bad guy here.”
She laughed right in his face. “You expect me to believe that?”
“This is old stuff, Jenna. Family stuff. A long time coming. Don’t mix yourself up in it. You don’t know the history.”
She stared at Harold. “I don’t think I need to. It’s very clear to me.”
And it was getting clearer all the time, like watching a photograph take form in a bath of darkroom chemicals. She thought of her first flash-assessment of Harold when she met him at the restaurant. Perfectly good-looking in his own right, but he suffered in comparison with Drew.
From what Ava had said, the same held true for Harold’s professional life. He was competent and successful in his field, unless Drew was next to him with all of the medals and prizes and honors and high-profile projects. Next to Drew, Harold got bumped several notches down the scale, until he registered as barely higher than average.
She disliked the very thought in itself, because she did not believe in judging people in that way. But the rest of the world did.
Harold had spent his whole life in Drew’s shadow and he was sick of it.
“You set him up,” she said. “You sneaky bastard. You organized this whole thing.”
Harold sipped his wine. “You’d like to have me be the villain so that your perfect, fantasy Drew can be innocent. News flash. He’s not. Sorry to break it to you, honey.”
“I am not your honey,” she said. “You brought that woman up from San Francisco on purpose. I bet you told her to make that big scene as soon as Malcolm was in earshot.”
“I didn’t have to tell her a thing. Everything she said was literally true. Drew gets into trouble all by himself. He doesn’t need help from me or anyone. Like that orgy at the Sobel party. He did that all by himself, and he does it often. That time, he just happened to get busted.”
“He was lured into a trap,” she said. “He was there to help a friend.”
“That’s what he told you?” Harold gave her a pitying look. “I checked the dates of your Women in STEM speech in San Francisco last year, when you and Drew hooked up. I know for a fact that Drew was screwing Lydia that whole time, and for months afterward. You were sharing him back then, Jenna. Knowing Drew, you’re probably sharing him now. He’s a star, and he never denies himself. I’m sorry to hurt you, but it’s true. Think long and hard before you get in too deep with him.”
Jenna stepped back, whipping her arm away before Harold could grab her wrist again. To hell with this guy. He wasn’t worth another moment of her time.
And she had a few choice things she wanted to say to Malcolm Maddox.
She marched through the tables, chin high, ignoring the muttering and the stares, following the path Drew and his uncle had taken. Once outside the ballroom, she homed in on Malcolm’s haranguing voice. It came from upstairs, so she followed it up, and down the wide hall until she came to the double doors of the Cedar Salon, a luxurious old-fashioned parlor.
As she threw the doors open, the old man’s voice blared even louder.
“...sick of your depraved antics! After all Hendrick’s complaining about your behavior, you decide to put on a floor show like that right in front of all of them?”
“Uncle, I didn’t plan on that woman showing up to—”
“You think you dodged a bullet when you trotted out your perfect little Miss Butter-Wouldn’t-Melt-In-Her-Mouth, eh? You think you can use her like some sort of goddamn human shield. But whatever you think you might have gained by that cheap trick, you just lost ten times over, and I for one am not fooled by your—”
“He is not using me!” Jenna yelled. “If anything, I’m the one using him!”
Malcolm’s head whipped around, eyes shocked. “This is a private conversation, Miss Somers!”
“I don’t care. If you’re trash-talking me, I insist on participating. Miss Butter-Wouldn’t-Melt-In-Her-Mouth, my ass! You should be ashamed of yourself!”
Malcolm Maddox stared at her for a moment, mouth open, and cleared his throat. “Well,” he said gruffly. “That is a matter of opinion.”
“So now you know my opinion!”
