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“Everyone is looking,” I hiss under my breath and go to yank my hand back, but his fingers tighten momentarily, holding me in place before letting my arm drop.
Both brothers look at someone over my shoulder and grin.
“That’s the point,” they say in unison.
I start to turn toward where they’re looking, but a shrill voice calls my name.
“Miss Hart.”
Dread hangs over me like a cloud at the sight of Damon’s mother approaching.
Bash leans in, kissing my cheek. “See you, sis.”
“Don’t you dare abandon me.”
He grins just before his mother reaches us. “Don’t you know? Escape is what little brothers are best at.”
I groan internally. Am I going to be forced to speak with every member of the Everette family tonight? Solemnly, I plaster a polite smile on my face and greet the matron.
“Where are they running off to?” Mrs. Everette is dressed impeccably, as expected. A light navy dress hovers respectfully over her curves, down to below her knees. Her dangling pearl earrings gleam as she looks after them before turning her razor-sharp attention toward me.
“They didn’t say.” I fight against the urge to cower from her, but this woman has honed her ability to convey disdain with a simple look, like a blacksmith would a blade.
“No matter. Have you been doing your job, Miss Hart?”
Job? Truthfully, I haven’t been doing much other than standing here. “The event is going well. There’s not much for me to set up here.”
“Now, now. Did our conversation teach you nothing? Damon will not go out of his way to find a wife, so we need to do it for him.”
Oh, she couldn’t be more wrong on that front.
“That there is Rosalie , eldest daughter of the St. James family.”
She discreetly gestures to a young woman whose father is currently speaking with Damon. My heart sinks at the sight of them. She’s his perfect counterpart. Poised, elegant, the definition of grace as she delicately lifts her glass to hide her smile.
“She graduated from Yale Law, top of her class,” Mrs. Everette continues.
Of course she did…
A sour twist forms in my stomach when Damon smiles at something she says.
By the time I glance back toward his mother, she’s appraising me, and I’m clearly failing.
“What do you think, Miss Hart? Do they not look good together?” Her voice is smooth, but there’s an edge that’s sharp as a knife.
“Yes…they do.” I look them over, and acid burns in my throat at being forced to say anything.
“You know you don’t belong here.”
My attention snaps back to her. “I’m working.”
“So I’ve been told, but it appears you have somehow deluded yourself regarding Damon’s affection.”
“What?” Cold ice crystallizes my veins and freezes me in place. I’m suddenly sixteen again, surrounded by mean, catty women all dressed in pastels, explaining how, no matter how hard my parents try, we will never belong. My fingers tremble around the wine flute I’ve been nursing. She’s right. I don’t belong here.
“I understand you’re likely sleeping with my son, but don’t misunderstand, he will not stay with you. He will not love you. You’re just an amusement as he passes his time. Just because you’ve been allowed to chase at his feet doesn’t mean you belong here. Do you understand, Miss Hart?”
There’s a razor-sharp sting piercing through my ribs until my chest caves in. My eyes sting, and I desperately blink back tears, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of knowing her words hit exactly where she meant them to.
