AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Make no mistake, though, I played that game well at the behest of my parents. Despite everything, I know they only wanted the best for me. So, I played my part as they asked, in the hope they’d leave me alone the rest of the time. And it worked.
It was a relief to turn eighteen and leave for university, and to finally make decisions about my own life. A hard-won freedom which is, once again, under threat. This time, from him.
While he was busy, caught up in conversation with a renowned philanthropist and his wife, I pulled away. He let me leave, and for some reason, that upset me even more than if he’d held onto me as he’d done earlier. Clearly, my emotions in relation to Cade are all over the place. I needed to clear my head and walked to the powder room to refresh my make-up.
The door to the room opens, and two women chattering to each other walk in. I refresh my lipstick, drop the tube into my evening bag, and walk out. I head toward the great ballroom where the event is being held. I shoulder my way through the people at the bar and those talking to each other in the vicinity of where I left Cade. Of course, he’s not there. I turn and head toward the dance floor. When I reach the edge, I spy a couple dancing. That’s when I see him.
I recognize his broad back, that line-backer build of his that overshadows everyone else’s and makes him stand taller than the others. His suit jacket pulls over that tight arse of his. His corded thighs flex as he glides forward, then back. He turns and I take in the woman with him. She has flashing brown eyes and dark hair. Her entire personality vibrates with the kind of effervescence I’ve always wished for. I’ve spent so much of my life trying to shrink into myself. Trying to fade into the background and not be noticed.
The woman in Cade’s arms, however, is the kind who’ll attract attraction wherever she goes. Is that who Cade likes to be with? A woman who seems larger-than-life? A woman with the kind of charismatic presence that would complement his own? A woman who throws back her head and laughs at something he says? The sound is unrestrained, with the kind of lushness to it that speaks of someone who lives life to the fullest. Someone who's not afraid to face the ghosts of her past. Someone who, no doubt, faces her life head-on. Unlike me.
Pain slashes through my chest. A hot sensation coils in my throat. I close my fingers around the straps of my evening purse. So that’s it, then. I lost him before I even had him. He’ll never look at me the way he’s glancing down at her. His features are relaxed, his jaw unclenched. His lips turn up in a wide smile. I blink. I’ve never seen him smile like that before. Not at me. Not at anyone else in the little time I’ve known him as an adult. And certainly not when I knew him as a teenager. No, this is the expression of someone who knows the other person well enough to let his guard down in her presence.
Has he been intimate with her? Was he in a relationship with her? Maybe he still is. He bends his head, so their foreheads almost meet. That ball of sensation in my throat expands until I can barely breathe. I take a step forward when a man cuts through in front of me. A man who is as tall and almost as wide as Cade. A man I recognize as Hunter Whittington, the presumptive Prime Ministerial candidate. A man whose body is wound so tightly, I can feel the tension pouring off of him. A man who marches up to Cade and his partner.
They turn to face him. The man and the woman exchange heated words before he turns to Cade and says something that has Cade’s eyebrows drawing down. Cade turns to the woman and says something. That’s when Hunter swings and buries his fist in Cade’s face.
What the—I race forward, past the gaping onlookers, then pause when Cade swings back. His fist connects with Hunter Whittington’s jaw. I gasp. Blood drips from the side of his mouth and Hunter stumbles back. Cade raises his fist again, and that’s when the woman steps between the two men. Hunter rears forward, but she stabs her finger in his chest. Hunter stops and glances down at her. She says something to him. Hunter nods. He looks up, scowls at Cade, but allows the woman to lead him away. I close the distance to Cade and circle my fingers around his wrist. I raise his arm and take in the torn skin on his knuckles. "Your poor hand."
7
Cade
"Don’t make a fuss." I yank my arm from her grasp, and her face falls.
I shake out my arm, then shoulder my way past her, past the couples watching me with wary gazes. I scowl at the closest man, and he glances away.
No doubt, this event will be in the tabloids tomorrow. It’s exactly what the media expects of me, and it’s what I gave them. I’m the kind of newsmaker who keeps the gossip bloggers flush with scandal and drives hits to celebrity websites.
I stalk toward the far end of the ballroom, twist open the handle of a door, and step out onto a patio. The door snicks shut behind me, and the noise from the ballroom fades. The cold evening air enfolds me, and I walk down the steps, then up the garden path. With each step I take, the tension fades from my shoulders. I didn’t realize how keyed I was until now. I might have more money than most in the room—definitely more fame and media influence—but my disdain for so-calledhigh societyhas stayed with me since the incident that caused me to almost lose my future before I even had the chance to frame it.
If it hadn’t been for Knight, I wouldn’t be standing here today. I owe him, and perhaps, that’s the only reason I’ve managed to rein back the worst of my vitriol against his sister. It’s too bad I find her attractive. Only good thing is that she reciprocates that attraction. And it’s something I’m going to use against her.
Bringing her to the ball was an impulsive move. One way of keeping her close so I can find ways to make her pay for what she did to me.
I ball my fingers into fists. My muscles bunch, and I blow out a breath. I need to find a way to get my focus back. Something I seem to have lost since meeting her again. Something I cannot afford to let happen. I’ve bided my time so far, and my goal is so close. All I have to do is stay centered on my ultimate objective—making her pay. I blow out a breath and force myself to relax. In that sense, the scrap with Hunter Whittington helped take the edge off the tension I’ve been feeling.
Yes, I recognized the Prime Ministerial candidate, and no, that didn’t stop me from swinging back at him. And going by how Zara stepped between us… Clearly, there's something between her and Whittington. I rub the back of my neck. Maybe I need to go and check on her, make sure she isn’t too pissed at me? I wince. My sister will not be happy with what I did. To be fair, it was Whittington who threw that first punch. Not that the argument will count for much with my sister.
Zara will ask me why I had to reciprocate and insist she can take care of herself. Which she can. But she's my sister. And it's my duty to watch out for her. And when Whittington punched me, I reacted out of instinct. The skin over my knuckles twinges.
And then Abby was concerned about me, and I shook her off. I rub the back of my neck. My goal was to upset her, and the downward slope of her lips told me I succeeded.
Best to give her time to cool off, I guess. I roll my shoulders, trying to shake off the last vestiges of tension, when the hair on the nape of my neck rises. An electric current runs down my spine, and I know she’s walking toward me even before I hear the click of her heels against the pavement. Heels I bought her. Heels I knew would look incredible on her. Heels that add a few inches to her height and enhance the curve of that delectable butt of hers while turning the rest of her curves into that of an alluring temptress. I bought them, hoping to make her feel like the slut I know her to be. Instead, I'm the one suffering with how much the sight of them turns me on. She comes to a pause behind me. That sweet scent of cherries reaches me. The scent that is so quintessentially Abby. So innocent… Not. It’s all a subterfuge to trap me.
I pivot, and she gasps, hand outstretched.
"What do you want?" I snap.
"I…" She swallows. "I wanted to see how you were doing."
"I was doing just fine, until I saw you."
It’s dark, but the moonlight highlights her skin, lending a shimmering, effervescent glow to her features. Her green eyes widen, and there’s enough light for me to pick up the hurt in them.
My heart seizes up. It’s as if I’ve slammed a syringe full of poison into my own chest, enough to give me a cardiac arrest.Why does it matter to me that she’s hurting? Why do I care that her eyes gleam like there are unshed tears in them? It’s all an act. She may come across as guileless, but it's all a lie. When she had to choose, it wasn’t my side she took. She discarded me and walked away without a second thought. She wasn’t there when I needed her the most. And for that, I’ll never forgive her.
"Either leave, or if you’re staying, be of service."
