Leah rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I get it, OK? It was stupid. Everyone else knows better. Silly me for trying to stop your house getting burned down.”
“Believe it or not, the house was the least of my concerns.” Jackson’s voice cut through the hum of polite conversation and tinkle of glassware around them. His eyes raked Leah’s face, pinning her like a “Save the Date” to a corkboard.
It was a relief when Natalia slid into the group, shimmering in a deep purple jumpsuit, her elfin face softened by a smile. “Good to see you all. I didn’t know you were coming, Leah.” She raised a well-shaped eyebrow. “Looking like a queen, too.”
“Thank you! It’s such a thrill to be here.” Leah kissed her on the cheek, grateful for the distraction. “This place is amazing.”
“Good evening, everyone.” And enter the villain.
Alistair Hale should always be played in by a stealthy solo on the bass trombone, Leah thought. The ominous reverberations would match the way he made her feel. Except, tonight, she was taken aback to find his veneer less villainous than usual. Alistair’s brow was etched with new stress lines, his eye sockets shadowed. He looked brittle and strained.
Jackson’s mother bustled in his wake. Celia nodded to the men in the group, ignored Leah and Natalia entirely, and addressed her son. “Niamh’s arrived with her mother. She’s been in Madison for the week. I’m sure she’d love to tell you about it.”
“Leah and I will catch up with her in a bit.” Jackson wove his fingers between Leah’s and she felt the jolt travel up past her elbow. When she tried to free her hand, he tightened his grip. Both seniorHales did a double take. She didn’t know whether to feel gratified or insulted by the surprise on their faces.
See? I scrub up OK. I can dust off my social graces. Fucking get over it.
“Miss Raven.” Alistair Hale stopped with just her name, even though his eyes spoke several more sentences she didn’t understand. They slid away from her face, as if looking at her any longer was painful.
“Delightful to see you,” murmured Jackson’s mother, powdered jowls quivering as she ran her eyes over the borrowed dress. There was tension in each finger gripped around her purse.
“We need to check everything’s in order with the auction. Please excuse us.” Jackson led Leah away from the awkward group before anyone had the chance to reply.
On the other side of the gallery, a long line of tables was draped in navy cloth. Twenty or so miniature easels sat spaced out from end to end, each one bearing the details of a donated auction lot. One was for a weekend stay at a log cabin in Glen Arbor. One offered box seats for a performance of contemporary ballet. Tanner Stone, nudged by Sam, had come through with three signed Blackhawks jerseys. There was a helicopter ride for four, a bronze outdoor sculpture, and a dozen other enviable items or experiences. In the center of them all was a large sign, framed in gilt, which read:
Silent Auction
Fundraiser
In aid of
the
Dominic Hale Foundation
Thank you for your support
“What will the foundation do with the money that’s raised?” Leah asked Jackson, breaking the silence. He seemed to have forgotten he was still holding her hand.
“It’s usually split between a couple of youth charities. This year, it’s all going to one. I’ll make the announcement in my speech.”
“I’m sure your brother would be proud.”
Jackson parted his lips to respond, but they were interrupted by a couple who were obviously old acquaintances. After that, a stream of people stopped by to exchange small talk and congratulate Jackson on the turnout, the venue, the auction lots. Each time, he introduced Leah by name but gave no explanation for her presence. His fingers disconnected from hers; she felt their loss like the lack of a coat in a snowstorm. Even so, she conducted herself with grace and spoke sparingly, keeping a tight rein on blurting out anything that might be socially embarrassing or show any personality. Every now and then, Jackson glanced sideways at her, a frown tugging at his eyebrows, but she refused to let her shoulders drop at the thought that even Society Leah wasn’t enough to earn his approval.
“I didn’t know you two were dating now.” Niamh appeared at Jackson’s elbow. She sipped daintily at a glass of something clear and bubbly. “Your parents haven’t mentioned it.”
Mild curiosity flittered over Niamh’s face. Leah doubted she’d take it so well herself. She was pretty sure she’d want to roundhouse the next person she saw on Jackson’s arm; even the idea made her stomach roil. Having no contact with him at all would be better than seeing him with someone else. Maybe.
“We’re not dating.” Leah forced a smile and Jackson’s hand twitched on the outside of his glass at the blunt denial. “I begged him to let me see how the other half live and he was kind enough to give in. It’s my swansong before I move on from Amity Court.” She changed the subject. “You look gorgeous, Niamh. That color is stunning on you.”
The blonde smoothed her hand over a satin-draped hip. “Thank you. I love the way you’ve done your hair.”
“I have a very talented friend.” Leah shrugged off the compliment, dragging her fingers away from the curl by her ear.
Sam and Kash joined them again, Natalia and Ollie in tow, and they discussed the silent auction lots. Jackson’s palm hovered somewhere around the base of Leah’s back, never quite touching her but always there. Like an awkward mockery of a caress. His cologne teased her nose; the heat from his body threatened to melt her bones. Even in heels, she was dwarfed by his height. Leah fought not to feel as if she were shrinking by the minute.
She accepted a fresh drink from a waitress just as Alistair Hale edged into the group, cutting across the conversation.
