I studied the frail woman, trying to imagine her comforting Cassie when she skinned her knee or failed a test. Her eyes looked soulless, almost vacant, her attention focused on her husband. As for Anson, even from across the room I could see he was a narcissistic blowhard.
Cassie led him across the room, and while anyone else would have thought that she and her father were having an animated conversation, I could tell that my bodyguard was agitated. I felt her urgency and anger as if it were my own emotions. The mate bond, presumably. She hadn’t bit me, we hadn’t even talked about it again, but the bond grew stronger the more time we spent together.
“Ruby, it’s time to go in. They’re starting dinner soon.”
My father’s voice came from behind me. He looked distinguished in his fitted tux, my mother by his side, equally refined. Seeing them standing there holding hands and radiating love was a stark contrast to watching Cassie’s parents interact.
Just then Alexei and Eleanor returned. I looked between them and Fredericka.
“Will you tell Cassie I went inside? It was nice to meet you.”
“You as well.”
Cassie’s mom seemed unbothered by the fact she’d promised to not let me out of her sight, and now I was walking away. So much for her promise to Cassie. It was particularly strange because she didn’t know Alexei was another bodyguard, although I supposed she could tell he was a bear shifter. Maybe she’d already forgotten that Cassie had asked her to take care of me.
Fredericka’s focus on her husband made me remember something that Cassie had told me once.
“All my father has to do is crook his finger and she’s there,” she’d said sadly. “Nothing else exists, nothing else matters but my father, and he uses it against her every time.”
Cassie caught up with us as we entered the ballroom, falling into step next to me like nothing was amiss. As soon as we were seated she shot off a text, and a few seconds later Alexei’s phone vibrated. He read the text, looked between me and Cassie, then nodded. I wasn’t sure what silent conversation they were having, but they seemed to resolve whatever it was because they both turned their attention to dinner.
It was a typical gala, held at one of the nicer downtown hotels, guests squeezed in tightly at tables and given a dinner option of salmon or chicken. I’d been to a million identical events, mostly fundraising galas.
The emcee made an announcement about the program, then we tucked into our mediocre dinners, chatting across the table with the other guests. Cassie picked up the program next to her plate,then winced. I leaned over to see a picture of her father inside, listed as the keynote speaker.
“Do you want to get out of here after dessert?” I whispered.
Cassie looked surprised. “Really?”
“Unless you want to stay for your father’s speech?”
“Fuck no,” she said with such conviction I couldn’t help but laugh.
I turned to Eleanor who was on my other side. It didn’t escape my notice that our bodyguards were flanking us again.
“Cassie’s dickwad father is the keynote speaker,” I said softly. “We’re taking off after dessert.”
“There’s dessert?” Alexei brightened. “Where? I see no dessert.”
The bear had a stereotypical sweet tooth. The other day I’d seen him plow through a family size bag of M&Ms in one sitting, then ask if we had any ice cream left in the freezer.
“They’ll bring it out after they take our dinner plates,” I assured him.
Unfortunately Anson got up to start speaking at the tail end of dinner, which meant we couldn’t walk out without being obviousabout it. Cassie muttered something under her breath, sliding down in her chair and crossing her arms like a petulant teen.
I wasn’t sure everything that had gone down between them, but I was pretty sure even if I didn’t know the man was her father I would hate him. He had that smarmy entitled manner that successful professional athletes adopted. Well, the male athletes did anyway. There were definitely jerks among the female athletes, but as a group, they tended to understand that playing a sport didn’t make you any better than anyone else, and just because you were competitive that didn’t mean you couldn’t support other players.
“Thanks for coming out tonight,” Anson bellowed.
The man spoke so loud he scarcely needed the microphone. I wondered if he was like that all the time or if this was how he acted when he was drunk. I’d seen him knock back during the reception. I knew that supernaturals had a much higher tolerance for alcohol, but every time I’d glanced his way during the reception Anson was throwing back a drink.
Cassie’s father started droning on about the importance of team sports and how they “made boys into men”, completely ignoring the fact that there was a sizable contingent of female identified athletes here tonight too. At one point I saw my father roll his eyes. Dad had always been supportive of women in sports, even before he had a daughter.
Anson launched into a long, boring story about his days playing professional football. By now irritation was rolling off Cassie inwaves, enough that even Eleanor and Alexei were giving her concerned looks.
Suddenly there was a popping sound, and the ballroom was plunged into darkness. People gasped as the lights went out. That was weird. It was a clear night, with no storms expected, so the power outage wasn’t weather related. Maybe something had happened to a transformer or something?
“Everybody get down!” Cassie hissed, pulling me to the floor.
