Page 24 of Reveal

“That’s what you get for listening to the high-society ladies who pretend to know what they’re talking about.”

“They did know. But some law or something was voted down, which in turn tanked its value.”

“How much did you lose?”

“It’s my play money, Ryk. Does it matter?” Spoken like a woman who has never worked a day in her life and whose money was awarded through divorce and despair. “We’re making it up with a sell-off of that stock and a buy-in of another. It’s just how the market goes.”

“Mmm.” The irony isn’t lost on me that I just gave my mother the same response that Bianca infuriated me with.

“Then I went for lunch at that new place everyone is talking about”—she points out the window to the east as if I’m supposed to know the restaurant—“and afterward I told my companion I was going to head over here to see my only child.”

Companion. Great. That’s her warning that we are indeed a go for divorce number four? Five? Who can keep count?

“And is your companion waiting for you?” I ask, trying to feel out what the hell she’s doing and at the same time not really caring.

“No, but you can meet him at the function tomorrow if you’d like to.”

“He can’t escort you when you’re still married—wait.” I glance over to my calendar on my desk, the blank I’m drawing not good. “What function?”

She laughs as it dawns on me. “You forgot?”

“No. I didn’t forget.” Shit. I have to write a speech. I have to . . . this is fucked. “Are you crazy?”

“Don’t change the subject. You forgot about the event, didn’t you?”

“I’ve got a lot on my plate at the moment. Do you want to explain to me how you plan on going with your ‘companion’ while currently being married?”

“Relax. I’m not going to the event, but he’ll be there.” She smiles sweetly.

Well, at least there’s that.

“Tell me about Vaughn. You’ll be taking her as your date, I assume.”

Talk about coming out of left field. I glance over to the corner of my office where the box sits. “Never assume when it comes to me. You know better than that.”

She gives a dramatic huff. “So she’s not going to be your date, then?”

“You won’t be there, so I don’t see why it matters.”

“Oh, you really do like her, don’t you?” she asks, making me grit my teeth in reaction. “Tell me all about her.” She crosses her arms over her chest, letting me know she wants all the details. Too bad I’m not in the mood to give them.

“She’s not from your circles.”

“So . . .”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

Her laugh is disbelieving. “I know you better than that, Ryk. She was lovely when I met her at your party. She’s got grit—”

“You don’t like grit.”

“Personally, no . . . but I think you need it.”

“Why’s that?” I ask, more to humor her than anything.

She moves toward the windows to admire the view and speaks with her back to me. “Because everything is too damn easy for you. Work. Women. Success.”

“You obviously haven’t been around lately, have you? Nothing seems easy these days.” It’s a rare act of contrition for me—letting my mom in to see what is going on in my life—but for some reason, I almost want to right now.