Preston’s eyes narrow, but before he can say anything else, Charles speaks up.
“Enough,” Charles commands. We’re all careful to keep the volume of this discussion down, but I don’t miss the anger in his tone. I thought his ire was due to my insolence, but my father’s glare is fixed on Kingston’s father when I look up. “Preston, didn’t you mention you wanted to speak with a certain supplier before dinner? They’re about to start serving, so you should probably go do that now.”
Preston brushes imaginary lint off his sleeve. “Yes, of course. Thank you for reminding me.”
Charles nods.
When his father walks away, Kingston clears his throat. “We’re going to get some fresh air before dinner.”
We don’t bother waiting for Charles’ response; we just walk away. Once we’re outside on the balcony, Kingston yanks me into a darkened corner and wraps me in a bear hug.
“Fuck.” He takes a few deep breaths before pulling back to frame my face with his hands. “Are you okay?”
“Are you? ”
He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Like hell, it doesn’t!” I argue. “It looked like you were two seconds away from knocking your father out cold.”
Kingston presses his forehead against mine. “That’s because I was.”
I sigh. “Kingston.”
“I couldn’t stop thinking about the video.” He pulls back to look me in the eye. “I can’t unsee that shit.”
He turns his face into me as I run my finger along the length of his eyebrow. “Me, either.”
Kingston looks around to ensure we don’t have any possible eavesdroppers. “I thought I could handle it; that it’d be just like any other day I had to put on the front. But when I saw the way he was looking at you, I wanted to fucking kill him , Jazz. Right on the spot, no concern for witnesses. I was envisioning bashing his head into the floor until brain matter was seeping out of his skull.”
I cringe from that disturbing—yet, also strangely satisfying—visual. “We can’t let your dad get to us, Kingston. He’d win, and that’s not an option.”
“Agreed, but it’s not going to be easy. Suspecting my father wanted you was one thing. Knowing he’s fantasizing about you while fucking someone else? That he sees you as a barrier between him and ten billion dollars? It’s an entirely different ballgame, especially when you’re within his reach. I don’t want you anywhere near him, Jazz.” Kingston blows out a breath. “Logically, I know he wouldn’t have actually touched you in front of all those witnesses, but it’s like my brain short-circuited. That crap he just pulled? He wouldn’t be so brazen if he wasn’t confident in his ability to win whatever game he’s playing.”
“Speaking of games… is it just me, or did it seem like he was goading my sperm donor? Do you think he knows your dad is sleeping with Madeline?”
“Maybe.” He shrugs. “Shit’s definitely going down between them, but my gut is telling me it’s bigger than an affair.”
“Like what?”
Kingston shakes his head. “Add it to the list of things I don’t know.”
“So, what do we do now?”
He leans down and pulls my lower lip between his teeth. “We go in there and play nice. Completely act like that entire encounter never happened. After we eat, I make my rounds, then we can ghost this place.”
“Pretending that didn’t happen is easier said than done when we have to sit at the same table. Just thinking about that look your dad gave me makes me want to vomit.”
Kingston tilts my chin up. “Don’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he rattled us. You’re the strongest person I know, Jazz, and my near freak-out back there was just a blip. I wasn’t prepared for his aberrant behavior, but I am now. We just have to remember nothing’s off the table when it comes to Preston Davenport. And you and me? We’re a team. If anyone can do this, it’s us. Don’t let him fucking win this round, Jazz.”
“I won’t.” I throw my shoulders back, steeling my resolve. “We won’t. If your dad wants to fight dirty, let him. We’ll just have to show him what badasses we can be.”
Kingston smiles. “There’s my girl.”
Chapter 3
KINGSTON
The head table is one of those rectangular ones that’s set apart from the other guests. I frown when I see place cards, indicating where each person should sit. There’s a total of eight place settings, with—surprise, surprise—our fathers in the middle, lording over everyone. Madeline and Peyton are seated to Charles’ left, and my sister and Reed are to my father’s right.
Ainsley must’ve specifically requested Reed’s spot because neither my dad nor Charles are considerate enough to think of something like that. The place card bearing my name is directly next to my dad’s, so this should be interesting, to say the least. Since Jazz and I are the last two to arrive, we don’t really have the option of rearranging the cards. Switching to another table defeats our objective.
“Assigned seating?” Jazz whispers. “Seriously?”
I lean into her ear. “It’s bullshit, but the one good thing is you’re three people removed from my father.”
“I’m not sure Peyton’s much better,” she mumbles. “They’d better be serving mashed potatoes, or I’m staging a goddamned riot.”
I laugh and lean into Jazz to kiss her cheek before she takes a seat.
“Whore,” Peyton mutters under her breath.
I glare at my ex-girlfriend, but Jazz doesn’t let it get to her. She simply raises an eyebrow and says, “Aw, what’s the matter, Peyton? Jealous much?”
Peyton huffs and turns to Madeline while Jazz averts her attention back to me.
“Behave.” I wink. “I’m right on the other side of the table if you need me.”
She makes a shooing gesture. “Yeah, yeah. Go sit down. I got this.”
Neither one of us misses the attention we’re garnering from all three parents—and I use that term loosely. Jazz and I share a knowing look, silently acknowledging that we’re on display. The second I sit down next to my father, he starts interrogating me.
“Son.” He eyes me as he slowly takes a sip from his wine glass. “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to join us.”
“Why would you think that?”
A waiter swoops in, so I watch as he fills my glass with some kind of merlot. Once he leaves, I take a leisurely sip from my glass—even though I can’t stand this stuff—before turning my gaze to the left, waiting for a reply.
“You and Jasmine seemed rather... upset earlier.”
I lean over and lower my voice so only my father can hear me. “You’d have to work a lot harder than that to upset Jasmine, old man. She’s a tough nut to crack, remember? As for me, it’s all part of the job Charles tasked me with, which you made quite difficult earlier.”
When I pull back, my father’s gaze is shrewd. Assessing. I can tell he’s weighing the truth of my words. I think back to what he said to Peyton in that video—how he knows I’m in love with Jazz, how he expected it to happen. Shit, I don’t even know how to explain what I feel for her, but he seems convinced, which means I need to persuade him that he’s mistaken. That it’s all part of the act.
“Is that so?”
I lift an eyebrow in challenge. “Have I given you any reason to think otherwise?”
My dad’s eyes shift down the table in Jazz’s direction before coming back to me. “I—”
“Dude.” Ainsley nudges my shoulder with hers. “When are they going to serve up the food? I’m starving.”
“Me too,” I tell her.
Putting up with this dinner every year is only tolerable because the feast is spectacular. I smile to myself when I think about the mashed potatoes, more specifically, how much Jazz will love them.
My father is irritated by the interruption, but I’m grateful to my twin. “We’ll continue this conversation another time.”