Page 49 of Torment
“Ashlynn,” she breathes, stepping forward. Her arms open slightly but not fully committing to an embrace. My girl doesn’t speed up or slow down, and stops a polite distance away.
“Mother.” Ashlynn’s voice carries a slight edge to it. Melissa’s smile tightens at the edges, barely noticeable. But I catch it.
“I’m so glad you finally decided to join us, dear,” she says smoothly, her eyes flitting over the champagne silk. “You look…radiant.” I don’t miss the displeasure in her tone.
“Thank you.” Ashlynn’s chin lifts.
Melissa’s gaze shifts to me.
“And you must be…” She leaves it open for me.
“Karson,” I say evenly.
“Ah,” she looks me up and down. “And what is it you do, Karson?”
“I work in security,” I reply vaguely.
“Ah,” she says lightly. “Well, we do appreciate men who know how to protect what’s valuable.” Her gaze slides down Ashlynn’s dress again, then back to me. I hold her stare.
“Trust me,” I say, tightening my grip slightly on Ashlynn’s waist. “I do.”
“Jack,” she calls over her shoulder. “Your daughter is here. She brought a guest.”
The man who approaches moves slowly, as if the room parts for him like the red sea.
Jack Steele is broader and taller than I pictured. Silver threaded through dark hair with a tailored tux that’s fitted precisely. His eyes land on Ashlynn first. They soften–but only just.
“Ash,” he says evenly.
Not darling. Not dear. Just her name.
Interesting.
Ashlynn’s shoulders square. “Jack.”
He nods once, as if that’s enough affection for one evening, then he turns to me. His gaze is less theatrical than his wife’s, more assessing.
“And you are?”
“Karson.”
“He works in security, dear,” Melissa tells him, her arm hooking through his.
Jack nods. “A necessary profession,” he says with an edge.
“Well,” Melissa starts. “We’re thrilled you could join us.”
Jack doesn’t look away from me.
“Enjoy the evening,” he says, tone neutral but loaded. “We’ll speak later.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
The two turn and make their rounds around the room. Charming the guests, ensuring they wring every dollar possible out of their wallets.
“What is this gala for exactly?” I ask quietly, leaning down so my mouth is closer to her ear.
She turns, looking up at me under thick lashes. “The Children’s Legacy Foundation,” she snorts. “All the money raised at these events goes toward funding foster homes.”
