Donna
Clinking glassware and polite laughter punctuated the soft Christmas music playing in the background.
I resisted the urge to tug at the tight waist of my A-line red dress. I wanted to be wearing something dark, short, and plunging, and the only thing I wanted cutting into my waist was a strong arm. I took a sip of my soft drink, wishing it were vodka, or at least champagne.
“Can we bail yet?” Harlow yawned next to me. She was in a gold dress with red details, the two of us matching each other in all but attitudes—at least outwardly.
The cream of Devilbend society, and quite a few prominent San Franciscans, were mingling around our house, drinking mom’s best champagne and eating delicate hors d’oeuvres. Our annual Christmas Eve Eve party was very different from the last party held in this house—the one that celebrated Mena’s birthday, where we made a mess and people got wasted and I started falling for . . .
“Give it another half hour, Harls.” I leaned down, keeping my voice low. “Make an effort to talk to someone. It’ll make Mom and Dad happy. Then you can grab Mena and Amaya and slip out. I’ll cover for you.”
“Fine.” She rolled her eyes. “Thanks, D.”
She wandered off and struck up a conversation with an up-and-coming TV starlet who had recently hired Mom’s company to remodel her entire penthouse apartment.
Mena was standing with her parents and Joseph and Vicky Frydenberg—Will’s dad and his much younger latest wife, who looked bored out of her mind. Thankfully, Will hadn’t been able to make it.
Amaya was nowhere to be seen, but her mom had the attention of several men as she told a story over by the roaring fireplace, her infectious personality and the ample cleavage on display keeping everyone enthralled. Like mother, like daughter.
I smoothed the nonexistent wrinkles from my dress and got back to mingling. Several family members and close friends had come out, but there were also Mom’s and Dad’s important clients, business partners, and colleagues. Our family Christmas would be a much more relaxed, fun celebration over dinner tomorrow night, then presents on Christmas morning. This party was more a way for my parents to nurture professional relationships.
Networking made the world go round, and I wasn’t going to waste a single opportunity.
The dean of Fulton Academy was there, and I’d briefly considered raising the issue of my internship with her—along with Mr. Kirke’s less than satisfactory handling of the situation—but I just made small talk instead. You had to pick your battles, and I knew that one was lost.
I chatted with my aunt and uncle for a bit as Harlow pulled Mena away and they slipped out to find Amaya. Then I gave Amaya’s mom air-kisses and complimented her on her dress.
No one noticed my friends leave the party. I wished I could ditch too—ignore everyone, take this fucking dress off, put on my thigh-high boots and go to Davey’s, or even just steal a bottle of champagne when the caterers weren’t looking and hang out with the girls.
But I had goals, ambitions, responsibilities. So I shoved those juvenile urges down and headed through the crowd to greet the newest guest, my smile genuine for the first time that evening. Jasmin looked a little uncertain, but I couldn’t blame her. She knew no one here, and the people in attendance could keep the legal center going for another thirty years with change from their couches. Which is exactly why I’d made sure Dad put her on the guest list.
“I’m so glad you came.” I gave her a hug.
“Thank you for inviting me. You look beautiful, Donna!”
“Thanks! Come meet my parents.” I led her over to my mom and dad and did the introductions. Once they were chatting easily, I moved away.
I caught up with Uncle Heath and his wife, Serena. They’d been friends with my parents since college and Uncle Heath had inherited his father’s chain of successful stores—GoodGrocer. When all the horrible bullying Mena had been dealing with came to light, he immediately offered to fire the parents of some of the kids involved, his face going red at the dinner table. I’d threatened the assholes with exactly that, but thankfully, the bullies had been dealt with by the police instead.
“How’s school going?” he asked.
“Great.” I smiled. “All As and breezing through my AP classes.”
“That’s my smart girl. Come, let me introduce you to Suzanne Brandy. She’s a partner at Paulsen and Price.” He gently took my elbow and led me to a small group of people by the eight-foot Christmas tree near the bay window.
I knew Suzanne would be there, of course. I’d spent time looking over the guest list and googling anyone I didn’t know. She was married to Andrew, a recent business associate of Daddy’s. I’d been planning to speak to her at some point regardless.
“Suzanne, such a pleasure to see you again.” Heath barged into their conversation, and a couple of people excused themselves, leaving only the lawyer and another woman I wasn’t sure I knew. “This is Donna—the Meads’ oldest and California’s next great legal mind.”
I laughed and dropped my gaze. He was right, of course, but this old-money crowd still subscribed to the idea that it was unbecoming of a young lady to be too confident or proud. “You’re too kind, and you have to say that. Hello, lovely to meet you.”
She shook my outstretched hand. “The pleasure is mine. I’m always happy to meet young people interested in the legal field. Your home is beautiful.”
“Thank you. My mother designed every inch and managed the painstaking remodel.”
“She’s very talented.”
“She is.” I beamed.
“Heath, you know Raine.” Suzanne gestured to the other woman standing with us. “Donna, this is Raine Clayton.”
“The founder and CEO of BestLyf.” I turned my winning smile on her and stuck my hand out. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”
“Likewise.” She took my hand in a firm, confident grip. We were about the same height, but I was in heels and she was in flats. Her chestnut hair hung loose around her shoulders, and she wore very natural makeup and understated jewelry. She could have been anywhere between forty and sixty years old—either she just had one of those faces or the plastic surgery she’d had was excellent.
We made small talk for a little while, but the longer I stood there, the more I kept seeing the astronomical number I’d spied on that rental statement a couple months ago.
“You know, Raine”—I gave her a polite smile, which she returned before taking a sip of her champagne—“I actually volunteer right near the BestLyf offices.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. It’s a stunning building. The lobby always looks so inviting yet professional. I have no doubt my mother would give it the interior design tick of approval.”
“Thank you. That’s so kind.” Her eyes crinkled at the edges as her smile widened. “Where do you volunteer? I think it’s so important for young people to give back to the community.” The last was delivered to the small group of people beginning to gather around us, who all murmured their agreement.
“I volunteer with Devilbend Community Legal Center every two weeks,” I told her. “It’s right on the corner near your building. Actually, I believe you own the building that the nonprofit rents.”
“Do I?” She chuckled, and everyone else did too, not that she’d made an actual joke. “I own so many I can’t keep track of them all, dear. I have a team of people managing all my assets.”
“Of course.” I smiled sweetly. “It’s so wonderful that you allow a nonprofit to rent the space. I believe it’s just as important for corporations to give back to the community as it is for young people.” I threw her words back at her. “If you’d allow me to be so forward, I do wonder if you’d consider looking into this particular property personally? The rent is reasonable for such a prime location downtown, I’m sure, but every penny saved could go toward helping disadvantaged members of the community. It is the season for giving, after all.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Uncle Heat
h bring his scotch up to his mouth, trying to hide an amused smile. But my focus stayed trained on Raine Clayton.
She cocked her head to the side and studied me as if she were seeing me for the first time. Just as the silence was about to extend to an uncomfortable length, a slow smile graced her face. “You’re a C3, bordering on C2, and easily an A2 also. Remarkable for someone so young.”
“Oh, I was thinking the same.” Suzanne nodded enthusiastically, looking between us.
“Uh, thank you?” I laughed lightly, trying not to show how much this nutcase was confusing me. “I don’t think I’m familiar with those terms.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I live and breathe BestLyf principles. I sometimes forget not everyone knows our lingo. It basically means you’re confident and assertive. Not many teenagers are. The combination can come off as arrogant at times.”
I frowned. Did she just call me arrogant? But she barreled on before I could respond.
“You have rare leadership talents—the kind one is born with. The kind people undertaking leadership seminars would kill to have.”
“Thank you. That’s very kind of you to say.” She’d given me several compliments, but I itched to probe her about the arrogance comment. I wasn’t arrogant. Was I? There was something imposing about her presence, despite her understated look. Or maybe because of it. But the way she spoke, so articulately and with such certainty, was a little mesmerizing.
“Raine is amazing, Donna. Her program got me from a graduate position with an unknown legal firm to being considered for partner at Paulsen and Price within five years. I’ve learned so much! You should look into their Young Minds program.”
“Yes, I think you’d be an ideal candidate.” Raine smiled at me warmly, as if she were already proud of the achievements I had yet to accomplish. “And I promise to look into this little rent issue.” She waved her hand dismissively and took another sip of champagne.
“Thank you. I’ll certainly look into your program.” If it could fast-track my plans for the future, I’d be an idiot not to. Maybe I could escape this crushing pressure sooner and start enjoying my life before my forties. Wow! What a depressingly middle-aged thought to have. Where the hell had that come from?
“Donna excels at all she does.” Uncle Heath gently squeezed my shoulder, the pride in his face so obvious you’d think I was his daughter. But Raine was now engaged in conversation with some of the other people gathered around her and was no longer paying attention to either of us.
A tall man in a dark suit walked past in my periphery, and for a moment, I could’ve sworn Hendrix had just waltzed uninvited through my parents’ Christmas party. A quick glance told me it was someone whose name I didn’t know, possibly my mom’s PA, but that didn’t stop the bone-aching urge to turn in his direction from coursing through my body.
The tight waist on the dress felt like a rope around my middle, holding me back from chasing him down. My breathing got shallow, and the conversation I was supposed to be a part of faded into the background.
Every time I thought about how he’d acted the night of the party—how he’d seemed to know what I was feeling and what I needed before I even said it—I got this weird panicky feeling in my chest. My mind couldn’t seem to articulate what was racing through it, and my body got fidgety and restless.
I didn’t like it.
It was inconvenient and unwanted. The only way to deal with it was to remove the trigger. So I’d started avoiding him. I had the girls help me keep tabs on him under the guise of keeping an eye on a troublemaker, but really, I used the information to avoid bumping into him at school.
The frustrating thing was, the more I avoided him, the worse my reaction was any time I spotted him—or thought I did.
I took another sip, trying to bring myself back to the present. I was being rude, but I’d lost all interest in this conversation, these people, and this party.
Jasmin pushed through the crowd, the worried expression on her face snagging my attention and giving me a good excuse to bail.
“Could you all please excuse me? There’s something I need to attend to.” I smiled politely and left, catching up to Jasmin just as she reached the makeshift bar area in the foyer.
“Can I get a scotch on the rocks, please? Actually, make it a double.” She leaned on the bar heavily as the bartender moved off to pour her drink.
I nudged her shoulder. “Talking to my dad has driven you to drinking?”
“Donna.” She straightened, looking at me warily.
I frowned. “Shit. It actually did? What did he say?”
“No, it’s not like that. He was lovely. I . . .” She took a deep breath and gave me her customer service smile. “It’s Christmas. We don’t need to talk about this. Are you having a drink?”
The bartender placed a glass of amber liquid in front of her, and she took a big sip and winced slightly.
“I’m eighteen,” I reminded her. “And you run a legal center.”
“Ha! Yeah, right. Sorry.”
“Jasmin, come on. What’s going on? I’m not going to be able to stop worrying. You may as well just tell me.”
She watched me warily for a moment, then took another sip of her scotch and nodded. “OK, let’s sit somewhere.”
Shit. A sit-down conversation. What the hell was this serious? As trepidation clawed at the base of my rib cage, I led her to a chaise lounge in the foyer, away from the party going on in the main living area of the house.
Jasmin was a direct woman—she had to be in her field of work—and she cut right to the chase. “I’m so sorry, Donna, but I have to terminate your volunteer position at the center, effective immediately.”
I reeled back as if she’d slapped me. Of all the things I thought she might say, that wasn’t even on the list. “What? Why? What did I do?”
“You didn’t do anything. You’re perfect. But through talking to your father and one of his financial advisors, I realized you or your family are behind a very generous donation we received recently.”
“Oh god.” I gritted my teeth and resisted the urge to cause a scene. “That was supposed to be anonymous. They shouldn’t even be talking about it at a party, for god’s sake.”
“It was anonymous.” She covered my hand with hers, her other tightening around her drink. “And they didn’t mention the donation or break any kind of confidentiality. But the mention of certain umbrella companies and trusts . . . it was just business talk for them, but the names were enough for me to put two and two together. I had to make sure, so I pulled your father aside, and he confirmed my suspicion. It was a very generous, kind thing for you to do. Which is why it’s so hard for me to have to let you go.”
“You didn’t have to ask Dad about it. It was anonymous. You could’ve let it stay anonymous.”
“You know I couldn’t do that.” She gave me a look full of regret. I did know that. She was a stickler for the truth, a tough woman with a strong sense of right and wrong. It was why she was so good at her job.
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m just frustrated. But I still don’t see why this means I have to stop volunteering. It’s not illegal to donate both money and time, is it?”
“No, it’s not. But we have our own company bylaws. We take several students as volunteers every year—most of them use it on their college applications, and along with the connections they’re able to make with the attorneys who come to volunteer their services . . . the situation is rife for exploitation. We can’t accept money from volunteers or their families. I’m so sorry, Donna, but your donation was very generous. There’s no way in hell the board will let me return it to keep you on board for another couple of months.”
The fact that she’d even considered returning the money told you all you needed to know about this woman’s character.
“I’m so sorry.” I wasn’t even sure if that was the right thing to say.
“I’m sorry too. But listen, you don’t even need us anymore. You’ve volunteered for over a
year. I’m going to write you the best letter of recommendation that ever was, and I just know you’ll get that internship with Horowitz, Ross, and Shore.”
She didn’t know it had already been awarded to someone else. I hadn’t even told my parents. I needed this on my college application more than anyone knew. What the hell was I going to do now?
“Right. Of course.” I smiled and got to my feet, my hand sliding out from under hers the same way the floor felt as if it were sliding out from under me.
The dress was squeezing all the air out of my lungs; my vision was starting to blur at the edges. I needed to get out of there immediately.
“See that man in the pale blue suit? He’s had three champagnes, and I know for a fact this is his sweet spot for opening his wallet. Go schmooze him into a donation for the center.”
“Donna, I’m not worried about that right now. Are you OK?”
“I’m totally fine.” I squeezed her shoulder; my breaths were coming in shorter and shallower. “I’d introduce you myself, but I really need to go to the bathroom. Sorry.”
I turned on my heel and rushed away before she could stop me.
Avoiding everyone’s eyes, I took purposeful steps across the foyer. Joseph Frydenberg and Raine Clayton were standing in the corridor leading to the powder room, locked in an intense-looking conversation, but I hurried past, too weighed down by my own shit to worry about Will’s dad having another affair.
I managed to control my steps and my breathing until I was in the kitchen with only the catering staff to witness my face falling, my shoulders slumping, my breaths turning to desperate pants for oxygen. But they were all too busy to notice me at all. I stumbled to the back door, steadying myself on the frame while clawing at the front of my dress.
I couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t I breathe?
Rushing into the dark night, my vision flickering in and out, I walked past the patio and reached behind me with frantic fingers to yank down my dress’s zipper. The pressure that had been cutting into my waist all night finally eased, and I gulped down cold air, my feet still carrying me away from the light and noise spilling out of the main house.
Like You Hurt: A Standalone Enemies to Lovers Romance (Devilbend Dynasty Book 2) Page 13