I was hugging myself to stay warm, lost in thoughts, when someone cleared their throat and I turned, startled.
A handsome man with familiar eyes smiled at me. "I'm Jonathan Davenport. The First, if it matters. But I go by Jon."
"Davenport?" He looked nothing like Ash, who was dark and smoldering to this man's blond and boy-next-door look, though they couldn't have been too far apart in age and had similar body builds—tall and muscular.
"Ash's younger brother. I saw you talking to him earlier, then you stormed out here. I assume my brother's renowned lack of tact upset you in some way. I came to apologize on behalf of my family."
There was a lot of apologizing for other people going around tonight. I nearly lashed out at him, but he seemed so sincere I pulled in my claws.
He offered me a glass of champagne and I took it, sipping slowly. Even this amount of alcohol could fuck me up on an empty stomach. "No need to apologize," I said.
Jon leaned against the railing, and we both gazed at the stars while sipping our champagne and not talking for a few moments. I didn't mind the quiet, but other people often got restless with too much of it. Jon was no exception. He turned to me, his glass empty, though mine was nearly full.
"I haven't seen you at any of the other events around here. Are you new to the area?" He meant the Boston blue blood events, of course.
I shook my head. "I grew up here. I'm a friend of Bridgette's."
The conversation stalled, neither of us knowing quite what to say. When I shivered, he offered me his coat, but I declined.
My silence had been ruined, and my stomach rumbled once again, reminding me I needed to eat. "I think I'm going to head back in, Jon. Thank you for the drink. And the company."
He smiled and opened the patio door for me. "Ladies first."
I didn't want to be constantly aware of Ash, but it seemed my body had other ideas. The moment we walked back in to the ballroom, I felt his eyes zero in on me. When he saw Jon, he frowned and began walking toward us.
Jon noticed and grinned. "My brother doesn't like competition."
I bristled at that. "I'm not a bone for you two to fight over," I told him through clenched teeth. Men and their stupidity.
"Of course not, I didn't mean it that way."
Ash approached and handed me a plate of food. "You should eat."
I knew I should, but resented him telling me to as if I was a child. Still, my stomach didn't let me protest. "Thank you."
He nodded curtly. "I see you've met my little brother."
"Yes, he was kind enough to apologize for your irritating manner." I couldn't help it, these things just dripped from my lips like venom. I shoved a stuffed mushroom into my mouth to keep it from causing any more trouble.
Ash's dark eyes narrowed at his brother. "I guess I should thank him for making sure our family name is well represented."
He didn't look that thankful, and the champagne was going to my head. I giggled, nearly choking on mushroom. "If you'll excuse me, boys, I'm going to track down Bridgette. Try not to piss on anything valuable."
They both stared at me dumbfounded, though Ash had a twinkle in his eyes that made me think he admired my raw wit. I found Brig once again surrounded by men, but when she saw me she pulled herself away. "Where have you been?"
I glanced at the Davenport boys, who both still stared.
"Oh girl, you sure know how to pick 'em. Do you even know who they are?"
I shook my head. I kept meaning to google Ash, but so much had been going on.
She grabbed my elbow and pulled me to the corner as I sampled the plate of food Ash brought me.
"The Davenports are the most powerful family in Massachusetts. Their father owns Davenport International—D.I.—which represents every major investor in the country. They're worth a fortune. Jon is set to follow in his father's footsteps. Harvard Law for now, then corner office at D.I. Ash went his own way. Got in trouble with the law several times in high school before his dad kicked him out. We all thought he'd end up an afterschool special kind of warning, but he proved everyone wrong by becoming a ridiculously wealthy hedge fund manager. He's worth billions, even more than his father, which didn't sit well with daddy dearest as you can imagine. Those two," she pointed to the brothers who were in a heated conversation judging by their faces and body language, "have been at each other's throats for years, and now you're stuck right in the middle."
Chapter Twelve
Prayers and Mayhem
THE MUSIC FROM the party—a live orchestra the Beaumonts commissioned just for this event—bled through the door of the guest room the maid had readied for me next to Bridgette's room. My misery and exhaustion felt inappropriate surrounded by sunflower yellow walls, a wood-burning fire place encased in stone and a four-poster canopy bed with a white comforter embroidered with yellow daisies.