The tips of my ruby red fingernails scrape against Kingston’s light brown stubble. “You keep looking at me like that, and we’re never getting out of here.”
“As tempting as that is, I’ve got a job to do.” His full lips curve. “But save that thought for later.”
“Uh-huh.” I pat his cheek condescendingly to cover up the fact that I want to climb him like a tree. “I’ll be counting the seconds until I can get you naked.”
“Smartass.” Kingston smacks me on the butt. Hard.
“Huh,” I muse. “I think I can see the appeal.”
He laughs. “What?”
My lips twitch. “Nothing.”
He stares at me for a moment like he’s trying to read my mind. “We should get going.”
“Yep.” I grab the little clutch purse—also borrowed—from Kingston’s nightstand, shoving my lip gloss and phone inside. “Let’s do this.”
*
A chill skitters down my spine as I remove my coat and hand it to the butler, shaking my head at the fact that anyone would need an actual fucking butler. Alexander Ivanov, the host of tonight’s shindig, lives in a mansion in Brentwood Hills, and it’s as opulent as one might expect. The weird thing is that places like this aren’t shocking me as much as they used to, and I’m not entirely comfortable with that fact.
Kingston runs his finger down the crease between my brows. I didn’t even realize I was frowning until he did that.
He places a hand at the small of my back and leans into my ear. “Relax.”
“I’m fine,” I assure him. “I was just taking in all the swanky stuff.”
His hazel eyes briefly look around as he presses a hand to his chest to activate the wire. “I’m so used to it, it doesn’t even faze me.”
“And that’s exactly what I’m afraid is happening to me,” I mumble under my breath.
“Don’t worry, Jazz. No matter how long you’re in this world, you’ll never be like that .” He nods his head to the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills wannabes.
Holy crap! As I get a better look, I think one of them might be the real deal.
Kingston guides me through the house toward the back end, where most people are gathered.
“Have you been here before? It seems like you know where you’re going.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “But I’ve been to enough of these things to know how it works. There’s a pattern. Women are usually gathered off to the side in small clusters socializing while the men are somewhere else bullshitting or talking business.”
“Well, that seems awfully sexist.”
His shoulders lift. “It is what it is.”
As I glance around, I see what Kingston’s talking about. For the most part, the room is awfully segregated, save a few exceptions. One of those exceptions is Ainsley, who we’ve just spotted standing next to her father and a dark-haired man. My bestie gesticulates wildly as she talks, while Reed stands at her side, looking amused by her obvious enthusiasm.
Preston notices us first and waves us over, rudely interrupting his daughter. “Kingston! Jasmine. Come join us.”
Ainsley’s eyes fall to the polished floor, not at all surprised by her father’s dismissal, which both saddens me and pisses me off. Reed’s expression is leaning more toward homicidal now, which leads me to believe he feels the same. She gives me a small smile when I stand next to her and link our pinkie fingers together.
“Alexander, I’d like you to meet Jasmine Callahan.” Preston inclines his head in my direction.
“Jasmine, I’ve heard so much about you.” I’m not at all okay with the fact that these two were discussing me. Neither is Kingston if the tic of his jaw is any indication. “You weren’t kidding, Preston. From what I recall, she does resemble her mother quite a bit.”
I stifle the urge to cringe when Alexander takes my hand and places a kiss on top. “You knew my mom?”
Kingston places his palm on my lower spine, which lends me the strength I need to remain calm.
“Yes,” Alexander confirms. “Though, regretfully, not nearly as well as some.” He side-eyes Preston as he says that last part.
Preston flashes a smarmy smile. “Your father and I have been doing business with Alexander for many years.”
“What kind of business?” Kingston asks.
Preston’s goldish-green eyes slice to his son. “A little of this, a little of that. You know how it goes.” His gaze returns to me. “Coincidentally, Alex and I met the same evening Charles introduced me to your lovely mother.”
“Really?” I tilt my head to the side in question. “I didn’t realize she and my father had the kind of relationship where he would introduce her to friends.”
Of course, I know Preston knew my mom, but he doesn’t know I know.
The look Preston is giving me couldn’t be mistaken for anything but predatory. Even Ainsley picks up on it. Her curious eyes are volleying back and forth, but I can’t worry about that right now. If Preston wants to talk about my mom, I’m taking advantage of it.
“Oh, I knew Mahalia very well. I’m surprised your father hasn’t mentioned it. Although he always was rather... stingy when it came to her. Constantly looking for ways to keep your mother to himself. I haven’t seen him act that way with a woman before or since.”
I have to literally bite my tongue to avoid lashing out at the way he speaks about my mom with such familiarity. “What’s that supposed to m—”
Kingston’s grip on my hand tightens. “Speaking of Charles... is he here tonight?”
My boyfriend’s diversion tactic is jarring, but I know why he’s doing it. Preston Davenport is getting bolder by the second. Having this conversation is proof of that. For a man who supposedly prides himself on keeping his composure and maintaining discretion, he’s doing a shit job of it.
“No, he’s not,” Preston answers coolly. “Why do you ask?”
“Just curious, I suppose.” Kingston shrugs.
“So...” Ainsley pipes in, obviously trying to diffuse the awkwardness. “Mr. Ivanov, you mentioned introducing me to a friend of yours from the LASPA?”
“Yes, of course.” Ivanov smiles. “I last saw him by the parlor. Shall we see if he’s still there?”
Kingston and Reed share a look before Alexander leads Ainsley and Reed off in search of his friend. I wait for them to step out of earshot before I start grilling Preston.
“When you say you knew my mom ‘very well ,’ what exactly did you mean by that?”
His lips curve into a smug smile. “Perhaps that’s a story for another time. For now... let’s just say my son and I have more in common than you might think.”
With that cryptic bullshit, he walks away without another word.
“You and your son are nothing alike, asshole,” I mutter, turning to Kingston. “God, I literally want to strangle that man.”
He glares at his father’s retreating back. “Get in line. Although knowing my dad, there’s probably quite a few other people ahead of us.”
“No doubt.” I snort. “What now?”
Kingston looks around the open space. “I see a few familiar faces, but they won’t speak candidly if you’re with me.”
“So, I’ll hang out here.”
Kingston scoffs. “Yeah... no. I’m not leaving you alone for a second. Let’s go find my sister and Reed. He knows to keep an eye on you.”
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Just humor me, Jazz. I know you’re smart and capable, but you’re also tiny. You’re not strong enough to fight off someone twice your size, no matter how scrappy you get.” He points at me as I glare. “Don’t give me that look. You know I’m right.”
My eyes roll. “What’s the worst that could happen to me in front of all these witnesses?”
He blows out a breath. “I’m not taking any chances.” When I open my mouth to protest, he puts a finger to my lips. “Stop fucking fighting me. If you won’t do it for me, do it for your sister. You can’t protect Belle if something happens to you, right?”
My eyes narrow. “That was a low blow.”
The jackass doesn’t look apologetic in the least. “Then stop forcing me to hit below the belt.”
“Fine. Let’s go.”
Kingston takes my hand and leads me through the crowd until we spot his sister. She and Reed just turned away from the man they were speaking to, so it looks like our timing is perfect.