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I wiggle around and slide them off, then drop them into his outstretched hand. He lifts them to his nose, taking in a deep breath. “Good girl. Ready?”
I swallow the scoff in my throat.
As if.
There’s something erotic about him ignoring me, not touching me except in a very conservative way, knowing I’m not wearing my panties, knowing they’re in his pocket, as we mingle with the guests.
These events, even small ones at the house where I grew up, aren’t things I enjoy.
“This is a rich cunt’s fundraiser?” he asks, voice low as he holds a glass of champagne to his lips.
We’re in the drawing room, and ignoring his insult and crassness, I look around. “This is just something intimate. Dad has something every year in honor of Mom. That’s all. Fundraiser’s probably the wrong word. We used to throw a huge event, but Dad rolled that into a thing that Uncle Grant does and just has this small gathering for her. People make donations in her name to a different charity each year.”
“How rich of you.”
I turn, lancing him with a harsh glare. “I thought you’d appreciate combining something so personal with the engagement announcement. I can call the media if you want,” I spew sarcastically.
He doesn’t smile. “No. This is fine.” Then he kisses me and walks over to a nearby group, leaving me by myself in search of a corner to hide in.
I feel completely on my own here. I didn’t invite Lacey since she hates these things. She came to one and vowed never to show her face at another again. Amelia is apparently at home with a friend. And knowing Uncle Grant, he’ll have security down in the lobby of their building.
I make my rounds with people I either don’t know or just recognize through Dad’s past work events.
Every guest is moneyed and well-heeled, and Malone…
I frown, leaning against the wall, sipping my champagne, watching as he charms the pants off a rich CEO and her husband.
He fits right in.
Maybe even better than me because I don’t want to be part of this world. I don’t want to live in tight confines of this upper echelon community or marry money first and a man second.
I duck down the hallway and head down to Dad’s beautiful study where I do my admin work.
“There you are.”
“Dad?” I jump when the desk lamp turns on, flooding the room with light. My chest tightens. Jesus. My father looks so old. Panic etched into the deep lines on his face. He’s beyond worried. “Is everything okay?”
“I was going to ask you the same. This whole thing is your uncle’s doing.”
He means Malone.
“This was supposed to be about him helping us and now there’s an engagement?—”
“Dad,” I say, laying a hand on the sleeve of his suit. “It’s fine.”
“And if he’s after your money?”
I stare at my father. “Are you worried for my safety or for the Hanlon fortune?”
“Scarlett…” He scrubs a hand over his face and walks over to the bar where he pours himself a glass of cognac. “That isn’t fair. Someone’s targeting us for reasons we don’t understand, and this man you’ve taken up with… your uncle insists he can help, but I get a bad vibe just by looking at him.”
I drain my champagne and pour myself some rum. I take a long gulp and stare at the bottles in front of me.
He’s acting like I’ve chosen this… Malone… not that I’ve been pushed into this situation where I’m basically a glorified prostitute. They had to know this man would want me. I didn’t think so, but now…
There’s something in his tone that makes me question his words.
“Oh, do you?” I snap.
