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I almost jumped out of my skin when he touched me.
He caught my eye. “Is this okay?”
No one had touched me since Bartholomew. Even though it meant nothing, it felt like a betrayal. I gave a nod.
The party was at the Tuscan Rose, a hotel owned by old family friends. The ballroom was decorated with fresh flowers, and golden flutes hung from the ceiling. My father liked to show off his wealth with these elaborate parties he didn’t even enjoy. He preferred to impress people he didn’t like rather than having meaningful relationships with people he did like. I wasn’t a psychologist, but I’d consider him a sociopath.
Victor got me a glass of champagne then returned his hand to the small of my back.
I felt like I was back in time, married to Victor, one of the daughters of the Skull King.
We got a lot of stares. My own family members studied me from across the room like a new type of mold that hadn’t been discovered. They were nosy enough to stare, but not interested enough to actually speak to me.
“I don’t miss this.”
Victor drank from his champagne then looked at me. “I do, actually.”
“You like these superficial parties?”
“No, but I like being with you.”
The line caught me off guard. I didn’t know what to say. Wasn’t sure if I could meet his stare. “I feel like I’m pretty poor company.”
“Why?”
“Well, I’m a very bitter and angry person…”
He gave a slight smile. “I guess I like angry and bitter.” He took notice of the empty glass in my hand. “I’ll get us another.” He walked away, as if he wanted to give me a moment to recover from the unexpected affection he’d thrown at me.
I stood there alone, too stiff to mingle with people who didn’t like me.
“You look beautiful, Laura.”
I turned to see my father behind me. Anytime I was face-to-face with him, I wanted to strangle him. Bring him to his knees andmake him sob for his life. The blood lust was so intense I nearly shattered the flute in my grasp. “Thank you, Leonardo.”
His eyes showed their disappointment.
“Nice party.”
“Thank you. Seems like everyone is having a good time.”
Not everyone. “The short rib pockets are good. I’ve already eaten five.”
“Haven’t had a chance to try one.”
“And the brie tarts. Those are good too.”
He gave a smile. “You’ve always loved food.”
Yep. The extra fifteen pounds I carried proved that. “I appreciate the finer things in life.”
“Then you must get that from me.”
I didn’t get anything from you. “Maybe.”
Victor returned and handed me the glass. The empty one was given to a passing waiter. “Beautiful party, sir,” Victor said. “It’s nice to have the night off.”
“Well, you’ve earned it.” My father gripped him by the shoulder, squeezed him like he was the son he never had. “You’re a good man, Victor.”
