Page 277 of Power Play

Her voice came out soft, but it was the first thing she’d said in my defense all night, and the sound of it went through me harder than I wanted it to.

Lance looked at her. “I don’t doubt that, sweetheart.” The word landed soft and paternal, but the warning underneath it was clear. Stay in your lane. Let me handle this. Don’t embarrass yourself over him.

Charm’s shoulders drew in a fraction.

My hand curled around my glass.

Lance turned back to me. “Work ethic is admirable. However, long-term stability matters. Especially when other people’s futures become involved.”

I set the glass down carefully. “Other people?”

His smile returned, polished and insulting. “Charm has plans. Design school. Internships. People willing to open very important doors for her if she proves she has the discipline to walk through them.”

“She’s told me.”

“Then you understand why distractions can be costly.”

Charm’s face went pale.

That was the line. Not for me. I’d heard men call me worse than a distraction and mean it with less cologne. But Charm heard it too, and the way she went still beside me told me this wasn’t new language in this house. This was the river of horseshit she’d been raised in, the kind that sounded calm enough to drink until it got in your blood and made you believe love had to be approved before it counted.

I looked at Lance and gave him the smile I saved for defensemen who thought chirping about my past would make me sloppy.

“Careful,” I said.

The room went still around the word. Her mother’s fork touched her plate with the smallest sound. Charm’s fingers tightened on my sleeve under the table, but I didn’t look away from her father.

Lance’s brows lifted. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” My voice stayed even. “You’re sitting at a table with your daughter beside me and calling her choices distractions. That’s a dangerous way to talk about a woman who’s smart enough to know her own mind.”

Charm stopped breathing for half a second.

Lance leaned back in his chair, studying me like I’d finally become interesting. “I would never suggest Charm doesn’t know her own mind.”

“You just did, but with better grammar.”

Her mother made a soft sound under her breath. Charm whispered my name, but it wasn’t panic this time. It had heat in it. Fear too, maybe, but heat lived under it, and that was the part I felt crawl down my spine.

Lance rested his forearms on the table. “You’re very direct.”

“I’m being polite.”

His eyes cooled, and I smiled wider. “For her.” The silence after that had weight.

Charm’s fingers slid from my sleeve to my wrist beneath the table. She held on this time. Her grip was small, hidden by the tablecloth, but it was there. I wanted to drag it into the open. I wanted to lace our fingers together beside the china and watch every Harlen in the room choke on it.

I didn’t. I let her hold me where she was brave enough to hold me.

Dinner kept moving after that because rich people were impressive performers. Her mother asked about dessert. Her aunt made a comment about the weather. Someone down the table said something about winter travel and flight delays, and the room latched onto it like none of us had just watched Lance Harlen try to slide a knife between me and his daughter with a salad fork still beside his plate.

Charm didn’t eat much after that, and neither did I.

I stayed because she’d asked me to come. I answered questions because walking out would’ve let Lance feel righteous. I laughed when I needed to. I kept my hands clean and my temper leashed, even when her cousin asked if my tattoos all “meant something” in the same tone people used when they thought poverty was a Netflix documentary.

By the time the plates were cleared, Charm looked like she’d been holding her breath for an hour.

Her mother stood and smiled at her. “Come help me in the kitchen, darling.”