I didn't bother sounding sincere. Whatever game she was playing, I wanted no part of it, and I saw no reason to encourage her.
She smiled again. This time, it was a real smile, with lots of teeth. For some reason, it made me just a little bit nervous, and I took a calming sip of champagne.
The glass was still at my lips when she said, "But here's something funny… You're not the only one wearing it."
I lowered the glass. "What?"
"Oh yeah. You didn't know?" With a little laugh, she glanced down at my feet. "And talk about hilarious. You're even wearing the same shoes."
I felt the color drain from my face.
Oh, shit.
I glanced around. She couldn’t mean who I thought she meant?
Could she?
Chapter 10
Desperately, I scanned the crowd. Next to me, the redhead was saying, "If you want to leave, I'm sure he'd understand."
She didn't say who "he" was, but it was beyond easy to guess. She meant Jax, of course.
I snuck a nervous glance in his direction, only to feel myself pause.
He was gone.
And so was his brother.
But that wasn't the thing that had me reeling. It was the fact that Darla was talking to someone new. He was big and portly, with slick dark hair and sharp, wandering eyes.
I stared in stunned disbelief. I knew him. And, if my mom had gotten her way, I would've known him a lot better before the night was through.
It was Dominic – my mom's, well, whatever he was.
A whispered word escaped my lips. "Shit."
The redhead gave a cheerful little laugh. "I know. Embarrassing, huh?"
I whirled to look. Obviously, she thought I was traumatized by the news that a different guest was wearing the same outfit.
She couldn't've been more wrong.
Oh, I was traumatized alright, but not in the way she thought.
The sight of Dominic only confirmed what I'd already begun to suspect – that the person in the matching dress was my mom. She was here. With him.
Damn it. What were the odds? I glanced around, searching for something – I didn't know what. A place to hide? A place to run? A bathroom to barf in?
Suddenly, the champagne wasn't sitting so great, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I'd be hugging some toilet after all.
I said, "I've gotta go."
Suddenly, the redhead was all smiles. "If you want, I'll call you a cab."
Obviously, she didn't get it. I wasn't going to hop in some cab. I had no money and nowhere to go. Plus, Jax had my phone and wallet, so even if I did want to run, I couldn't do it now, not without first retrieving my things.
This left only one option – hiding.
I told the redhead, "I don't need a cab. I just need some fresh air, that's all."
She frowned. "What? You're not leaving?"
I knew why she wanted me to leave, and it had nothing to do with the dress.
It was strange, really, because if the person in the matching dress had been anyone other than my mom, I would've simply laughed it off.
Seriously, it wasn't that big of a deal.
But this was.
So without another word, I turned and headed in the opposite direction, hoping to get lost in the crowd. As I moved, I glanced over my shoulder to make sure the redhead wasn't following.
She wasn't. But she was staring, as if she couldn’t quite figure me out. I knew the feeling. I couldn’t figure myself out either.
Why, oh why, had I ever listened to my mom at all?
In the back of my mind, I could still hear my best friend telling me just one week ago, "You're crazy for trusting her. You know that, right?"
One thing had led to another, and we'd gotten into a huge argument. Now, here I was, looking for a closet to hide in.
If only I had my phone, I swear, I would've called Allie right then and there and told her just how right she'd been all along. And then, I might've begged for her to come and get me.
If I knew Allie, she'd do it, too.
The only problem was, she was halfway across the country. Even if she left Nashville this instant, she wouldn't be here until sometime tomorrow morning.
Talk about painting myself into a corner.
I didn't find a closet, but I did find a small powder room off a side hallway. Surprised to find it empty, I ducked inside and slammed the door shut behind me.
I didn't mean to slam it, but my nerves had gotten the better of me. Obviously, I was losing it, and for no good reason.
I mean, I'd been in situations a lot worse than this. And really, it wasn't that bad. After all, it wasn't like my mom could drag me off by my hair. For one thing, she'd never behave like that in front of a crowd. And for another, I wasn't a kid anymore.
Even as I thought it, a little voice in my head whispered that if I was so brave and capable, why was I hiding in a bathroom?
But I knew the answer. I didn't want a scene, and not only for my own sake. I thought of Jax. Already, he'd rescued me more than once – and at considerable cost to himself.
Now, I was supposed to be doing him a favor. Causing a scene in front of his friends – or whoever these people were – would be a sorry way to repay him. So I hunkered down and tried to think.
Assuming that my mom hadn't spotted me, everything might still be okay. I'd just need to avoid her – and Dominic, too, while I was at it.
I'd only met the guy one time, but something in his eyes told me that he'd found me a lot more interesting than I'd found him.
Then again, I had been wearing a bikini at the time.
Stupid pool.
A knock at the door jolted me out of my thoughts.
Damn it. I gave the door a worried glance, wishing the knocker would just go away. But that was selfishness talking. This was a party, after all. Even in such a huge place, bathrooms would always be in short supply.
I was a girl. I knew this firsthand. And already, I'd been hogging the place for far too long.
Forcing some cheer into my voice, I called out, "I'll be out in a minute."
I used that minute to smooth my hair and practice smiling in front of the mirror. See, everything's fine.
Except it wasn't.
Because as soon as I opened the door, I wanted to slam it shut again.
And why? Because it was her. And I didn’t mean my mom or the redhead.
Chapter 11
At the sight of her, I tried not to cringe – and not only because she was dressed like a hooker at Mardi-Gras. "Aunt Tabitha?"
From the look on her face, she was just as delighted to see me as I was to see her. "Cassidy." She glanced downward. "Nice dress."
Funny to think, it was the exact same thing I'd heard from the redhead. This time, I didn't bother returning the compliment. Knowing Aunt Tabitha, she was here for a reason, and it wasn't to exchange niceties.
Besides, her dress was definitely on the nasty side.
When I made no reply, she gave my dress a longer look. "You do know I picked it out, don't you?"
I didn't know. But I wasn't terribly surprised. Aunt Tabitha had been a clothing designer back in the day – or so she claimed.
Honestly, I didn't quite believe her – just like I didn't quite believe my rotten luck of seeing her here of all places. Then again, luck probably had little to do with it.
I glanced down at my outfit. Praying for some sort of peaceful resolution, I said, "Well, you did a nice job, of picking it out, I mean."
"I know." She gave me a thin smile. "And I need it back."
I tensed. "What?"
"The dress," she said. "I need it."
"You're joking, right?"
Her mouth tightened. "I never joke about clothes."
This much was true. I'd known Aunt Tabitha my whole life. She didn't joke about a lot of things.
It was really strange, too. Everyone always said she had a great sense of humor. But I'd never seen it, or rather, she'd never
wasted the effort on me.
Aunt Tabitha looked a lot like my mom. Her hair was long, dark and luscious. Her lips were very full – naturally and with a little help from her cosmetologist. I knew this, because she and my mom went to the same place.
I crossed my arms. "Sorry, but you can't have the dress."
"Why not?" she demanded.
Wasn't it obvious? "Because I'm wearing it."
"So?" she said. "You can have mine."
I gave her dress a long, horrified look. No doubt, the thing cost a fortune. One thing about Aunt Tabitha, she never wore anything cheap.
But the truth was, when it came to the dress she was wearing now, there simply wasn't enough of it.
It was red and sparkly with nothing to keep it up on top or down on the bottom. It was like a big, festive bandage, cut so low on her chest and so high on her thighs that she was one good sneeze away from flashing whatever body part happened to pop out first.
If I were a betting gal, I'd put my money on a nipple. And just like that, another unwanted image flashed in my brain.
I stifled a shudder.
Stop thinking about your aunt's nipple.
Her gaze narrowed. "Don't give me that look. This dress was two-thousand dollars." She cocked a hip and announced, "You should feel lucky I'd let you wear it at all."
I almost laughed in her face. "Lucky, huh?"
"Yes. Lucky." She glanced at my feet. "And I'll be needing the shoes, too."
The implication of this was obvious. Apparently, I'd be trading my silver heels for her thigh-high red boots. I gave them a closer look. Were they leather? Or latex? Honestly, I had no idea. I mean, it's not like I was an expert in either one.
I shook my head. "Forget it."
She edged closer and said, "Listen here, you little snot. I'll have you know, I was in the middle of something when your mom called. And unlike you, I dropped everything to help her out. So excuse me if I'm a little miffed."
I recalled my mom saying that she'd have to find someone else to take my place. Apparently, that someone was Aunt Tabitha, which wasn't terribly surprising, given their history.
From the way they used to talk, they just loved threesomes, especially with rich, famous guys.
I heard myself say, "I'm surprised she didn't ask you first."
"She did," Aunt Tabitha said, "but I had plans, which I had to break, thanks to you."
I so didn't want to speculate what those plans were. But it was pretty obvious that she'd been smack-dab in the middle of them when she'd gotten the call.
Was I supposed to feel guilty?
Probably.
But I didn't.
Did that make me a bad person?
No. Definitely not.
"Look," I said, "I didn't realize what my mom had in mind until we were halfway there, so you'll have to excuse me if I don't jump at the chance to give up my clothes."
"Except they're not yours. They're mine." She gave me a cold smirk. "And I need them back."
"Why?" I demanded. "Your outfit is…" I cleared my throat. "…well, perfect."
Or at least it was perfect for whatever they were planning. I just thanked my lucky stars that those plans no longer included me.
"Perfect, my ass," she said. "Your mom? She was going for a twin thing. Hello? Matching dresses? What are you, stupid?"
I wasn't stupid, and she darn well knew it. In fact, I was a lot smarter than she ever gave me credit for.
"No, I'm not stupid," I said. "And you know what? I'm not your niece either, so give it up already."
She frowned. "What?"
"I'm just saying, you're not even my aunt."
At this, she had the nerve to look insulted. "I am, too."
"No. You're not." By now, I was so angry that I was shaking. "You and my mom? You're not really sisters. You're just friends. So stop acting like you have some hold over me. You don't." With an effort, I lowered my voice. "So fuck off."
She drew back and stared at me for a long moment. Obviously, she was beyond surprised.
Funny, me too.
It had been years since I'd last seen her, and I'd never been great at sticking up for myself. And even when I did, I'd always done it as politely as possible.
But tonight, I'd had more than enough. And I was definitely on a roll. After all, I'd cursed at my mom, too.
Who knows, maybe Allie was rubbing off on me. Or maybe, I'd grown a spine during my time away. Either way, I couldn’t afford to back down now.
Tabitha was still staring. "What the hell's wrong with you?"
"What's wrong with me?" I gave a bitter laugh. "What's wrong with you? You're the one trying to take my clothes."
"Hey, I asked nicely." She stepped closer. "But if you want, we can do this the hard way." She bared her teeth to say, "Because one way or another, I'm getting that dress."
Part of me – the child I'd been – wanted to run. But I was no longer a kid, and I had nowhere to run. So I lifted my chin and said, "Oh, please. What are you gonna do? Rip it off me?"
Her eyes narrowed to slits. "You think I wouldn't?"
Yikes.
She looked like she meant it.
Still, I summoned up the bravest smile I could muster. "Oh, I think you would. But try it now, and you'll be sorry."
"Oh yeah? Why's that?"
I opened my mouth, planning for a sharp reply. But it never came, not because words failed me, but rather because a new voice – Jax's voice, low and dangerous – replied on my behalf. "Because if you try," he said, "you'll be looking at a broken arm."
Chapter 12
In unison, we whirled to look. And there he was, standing just a few paces away. His eyes were dark, and his mouth was grim as he looked from me to my so-called aunt.
I wanted to die of embarrassment. He wasn't even alone. Apparently, our little argument had attracted a small crowd. And of course, this had to include the redhead, who looked beyond amused.
Damn it.
I'd been so distracted, I hadn't noticed any of them.
Maybe I was stupid.
I straightened. No. I wasn't. It was just that between the noise of the party and the general mayhem, not to mention my own roiling emotions, I hadn't been paying nearly close enough attention.
Jax strode closer until he was standing within arm's reach. After the briefest glance at me, he turned his cool gaze on my aunt.
No, I reminded myself. She wasn't my aunt. She was Tabitha – just plain Tabitha.
Old habits might die hard, but I was determined to kick this habit for good. She was no aunt of mine – or even a friend for that matter. And I needed to remember that.
In that same low voice, Jax told her, "Get out."
Her brow wrinkled in a show of confusion. "But I was invited."
"Not by me." He flicked his head toward the front of the mansion. "You've got two minutes. Grab your shit and go."
Tabitha gave a shaky laugh. "Or what?" In a valiant effort, she batted her eyelashes up at him and tried for a purr. "You wouldn’t really break my arm, would you?"
I held my breath as a wave of conflicting emotions washed over me – gratitude that he was rescuing me yet again, humiliation that it was even necessary, and yes, a twinge of fear that he'd actually make good on his threat.
After all, he'd threatened the limo driver, too. And he hadn't been bluffing that time.
Desperately, I looked to Tabitha and said, "Well, obviously, he was speaking metaphorically." I forced a nervous laugh. "I mean, he wouldn't really break your arm."
I looked to Jax and waited. For what, I wasn't sure. For him to say that I was right? Or to inform me that I was wrong?
If Jax were a normal guy, he'd simply explain that his threat was mere hyperbole, like, "I'll kill you if you eat that last cupcake."
But he didn't say anything remotely like that. In fact, he didn't say anything at all, even as he turned the full force of his gaze on me. Under his intense scrutiny, I felt myself squirm, and I had to ask m
yself a very disturbing question.
What if he wasn't joking? What if he would do such a thing?
What kind of person would he be? A hero? Or a villain?
I had no good answer, which of course, had me questioning my own ethics. They must be seriously slipping because the answer should've been easy. Nobody but a villain would make good on that threat.
Finally, it was Tabitha who broke the uneasy silence by telling Jax, "I know who you are."
With his gaze still locked on mine, he replied, "No. You don't."
Undaunted, she insisted, "Sure, I do. You're Jax Bishop." Her voice became nearly breathless. "And this is your house. Am I right?"
My gaze snapped in her direction. This couldn’t be his house. Oh, sure, he was obviously wealthy. I'd guessed that already. But this wealthy? I couldn’t even imagine.
When he made no reply, Tabitha sidled closer to him and whispered, "I hear the bedrooms are fabulous."
Oh, God. She wasn't going to –
And then, she did.
In a voice filled with all kinds of innuendo, she said, "If you wanted to show me one, I wouldn't say no."
And with that, my humiliation was complete.
I glanced around and was mortified to see the redhead watching with obvious satisfaction. When she saw me looking, she gave me a smug smile before turning to whisper something to the socialite standing next to her. The woman's only reply was a loud snicker.
Well, at least someone was having a jolly good time.
When I looked back to Jax, he was staring straight at my aunt. If nothing else, she had his full attention.
With a sultry smile, she gave a little shimmy. "Well?"
He didn't smile back. "One minute."
I felt my eyebrows furrow. One minute for what?
My aunt giggled. "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah," he said. "You heard me before."
She blinked. "Sorry, what?"
"I gave you two minutes," he said. "And one of them's gone."
She glanced around. "But wait—"
"Which means," he interrupted, "you've got about sixty seconds to get the hell out."
"But I can't leave," she said. "I don't have a ride."
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