The St. Regis Hotel’s ballroom was the location for this elaborate Saturday night fundraiser. My mom had insisted I dress appropriately for the conservative types and had picked out a Lela Rose floral-embroidered gingham dress for me to wear this evening.
I looked like a pretty doll.
I’d become accustomed to these networking events, mastering the art of the friendly smile to help snag potential supporters for our cause when necessary.
So here I was, thrust into the public eye this evening and ready to be paraded in front of the guests. My orders were to look pretty and charm the hell out of everyone.
Tonight, I secretly represented my father’s last hope of being chosen to serve alongside the President—only there was a hitch. Damien hadn’t talked to me all night. I refused to let my parents know he’d not called me in over a week. Or that my phone was no longer able to get through to his asshole device either.
A dry mouth made me want to reach for my mother’s champagne flute, but drinking in public before I was twenty-one was taboo. “I’ll go over and speak to Damien soon.”
Dad gestured for the waiter to top up his champagne glass. “You’re engaged. You have a ring.”
As though sensing we were talking about him, Damien looked over at our table…then looked away.
Considering our intimacy last Friday night, seeing him throw daggers our way left me chagrined. When he turned his back to us, the rejection hurt my heart.
But even so, I still couldn’t drag my eyes away from Damien’s suaveness. His tailored suit had been cut to perfection and the black tie made him look edgy. His raven hair had been tamed for tonight’s soirée. He stood there casually with his hands tucked into his pockets, yet he still seemed guarded—even stern and unapproachable.
Pivoting back to focus on the table centerpiece again, this time I reached out to touch the stem of a rose and purposefully pressed my finger to a thorn.
“Careful!” My mother slapped my hand away. “Go talk to him.”
“I plan to.” I clicked open my Bottega Veneta clutch purse and reached in for a tissue. Inside lay that small, black box.
I’d not opened it yet.
Maybe this had been a gift Damien had given to Madeline. Maybe giving it back through me was a message from Rhodes to him, which left me well and truly caught in the middle of her revenge fuck you tour.
Because Damien had chosen me over her.
Maybe whatever was inside this box was her attempt to sabotage my relationship.
She needn’t have bothered.
Yesterday in her office at Georgetown, Madeline Rhodes had placed such importance on the box’s contents, sparking a curiosity inside me that I hadn’t been able to resist. But now…I wouldn’t be drawn in by her evil scheming.
Snapping the purse closed, I slid the strap over my shoulder and psyched myself up to approach Damien.
Rising from my chair, I gave the guests at our table a polite smile. “Excuse me.” I clutched my skirt and raised the hem a little, whooshing elegantly toward him across the ballroom.
Damien was trapped between two senators, Jacob Rommel and Scott Bruno, both good men who fought for causes that mattered.
Mattered to me, anyway.
They were already admirers of Damien’s father. I’m sure he did not see the benefit of “wasting precious time” when he could be working the room trying to convert others to Senator Godman’s crusade—not with only three weeks left until election night.
Damien gave me a subtle shake of his head in a gesture meaning not now.
No, he wasn’t going to continue ghosting me in front of all these people. Some of the guests might be watching, and they’d be given clear evidence that those rumors of our estrangement were true.
“Hi, Damien.” I forced a smile and turned it up a notch for the senators who flanked him on either side. “Will you both please excuse us while I talk to my fiancé?”
“We’re in the middle of something.” Damien followed that up with a glare.
Senator Rommel gave me a reassuring nod. “Spend time together. It’s what makes these things bearable.”
As the two gentlemen walked away, I was rewarded with another unkind stare from the man meant to be my boyfriend. Damien broke his focus away just long enough to read the room, suddenly realizing there were eyes on us.
He leaned forward and kissed my cheek. “Hello, sweetheart.”
“Got a second?”
His dashing smile was disarming. “For you, anytime.”
“You blocked my number?” I whispered.
“Not here.” His tone was harsh.
Walking past him, I made a beeline for one of the many doors that led off the ballroom and found myself in an empty banquet hall. I stood there with my arms folded as I waited patiently for Damien to appear.
Eventually he did, sliding through the door as though trying to be covert. “What do you want?”
“Why are you ignoring me?”
“Maybe this isn’t about you.”
“I’m your fiancée.”
“Can I call you later?”
I narrowed my gaze on him.
He stared back. “You’re doubting my word?”
“Yes.” I sounded extra snobbish for some reason and I couldn’t put the brakes on.
There was just so much riding on Damien being reasonable.
He looked riled. “Quite honestly, Pandora, you’re a bad look on me right now.”
“Excuse me?”
“That issue with your father years ago just caught up with him. It could ricochet off us.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“You want to apologize on his behalf?”
“What? No. I want to make it go away.”
“You know what he did, right?”
“No, I don’t.”
Surprise flashed over his face. “Look, I’ve been told not to talk with you right now.” He paused, looking away. “Trust me, this isn’t easy on me, either.”
My mouth went dry with that revelation. “Are we still together?”
He hesitated to answer.
I raised my hand to remind him of the sparkling engagement ring he had recently given me.
He gave a slight shrug. “Keep it.”
A sob caught in my throat. “You used me. You paraded me in public like you’d captured a prize possession. And now I’m not needed anymore.”
“Glad you know your worth.”
“Actually, I do.” Because there’s so much about me you don’t know.
“Look, it wouldn’t matter if I’m falling for you. Or if I already have. I don’t get to choose.”
“Has your father forbidden you to see me?”
“Our families have been rivals for years. You should have seen this coming.”
“We’re a new generation, Damien. The grandchildren of rivals. What happened between our families was decades ago.”
“Hate runs deep between our dynasties, or don’t you know your history?”
“Until your family needed mine.”
“You should be flattered. You made us look good.”
“You did those things to me.” I said, my voice trembling. “In your oceanfront home.”
“You resent me. Admit it. You always have.”