Chapter 20
Chapter
Twenty
"There you are," Kelly’s mother said, lips pursed in a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "We were beginning to wonder if you'd make it."
"Traffic," Kelly replied, the lie slipping out automatically.
In truth, they'd spent those seven minutes sitting in the parked car while she gathered her courage. Ben had waited patiently, not rushing her, not questioning why a grown woman needed a moment before facing her own family.
It should have been a pleasant evening, but she knew better. It didn’t matter that this restaurant made excellent food and had great service. Somehow, some way, her parents were going to make her miserable. It was only a question of when and how it would happen.
Her mother's gaze slid to Ben, taking in his tailored suit and confident posture. He was easily the most handsome in the room, but she might be biased.
"Well, at least you're here now. Everyone's getting drinks. Your father has already ordered wine for the table."
The private room downstairs in the restaurant had been set up strategically for the event. Bar in the back of the room, tables in the middle, and a long table on the left laden with appetizers.
“How many drinks is too many? Ten? Twenty?” she queried, mostly kidding. “I’m asking for a friend.”
Ben's quiet laugh steadied her, and she felt some of the tension drain from her shoulders.
“I think I’m going to stay sober,” he replied. “But I’ll carry you out of here later, if need be.”
They moved through the crowd, accepting congratulations on her sister's behalf, and fielding the inevitable questions about her life in New York.
No, she wasn't married. Yes, she was still working on that podcast thing. No, she hadn't considered moving back to Bergen. The same questions, the same answers, the same barely concealed disappointment.
"I need that drink," she announced after the fifth conversation that felt like an interrogation.
"I'll get you something," Ben offered. "White wine?"
"Something stronger. Whiskey, neat."
Ben raised an eyebrow but nodded. "I'll be right back."
She watched him make his way to the bar, stopping to exchange pleasantries with Trevor's mother. He fit in here, comfortable in this world of social niceties and small talk. It should have annoyed her how easily he moved through a room full of strangers, but instead, she found it oddly comforting.
Casting her gaze across the room, she could see several heads turning as he walked by. He had that easy self-assurance and charisma that drew people to him.
Like me,
Her momentary peace was shattered when she spotted Rob intercepting Ben at the appetizer table. Her brother's voice, loud and annoying, reached her even from across the room.
"Tax law is incredibly complex," Rob was saying, gesturing with a stuffed mushroom. "The intricacies of corporate accounting would probably go over your head."
He worked on Wall Street, you idiot.
To be fair, she didn’t know exactly what he’d done, but he’d been damn successful at it.
Kelly edged closer, maneuvering around a cluster of her mother's friends to get a better view.
"I doubt you'd understand the implications of depreciation schedules on capital assets," Rob continued, his voice carrying that familiar patronizing edge. "It's rather advanced stuff."
Ben nodded politely, selecting a few items from the display.
"Sounds fascinating."
"It is, actually," Rob plowed on, oblivious to Ben's lack of engagement. "For instance, the difference between straight-line and accelerated depreciation can mean thousands in tax savings. But I suppose in your line of work, you don't deal with those kinds of sophisticated financial structures."
Kelly's hands tightened around her clutch.
This was classic Rob, establishing dominance through jargon and condescension.
She'd seen him do it countless times at family gatherings, talking down to boyfriends, colleagues, even her father's friends.
Usually, men either matched his pomposity or fell silent in confusion.
Ben did neither. He simply selected another canapé, his expression pleasant but neutral.
"These are good. Have you tried them?"
Rob blinked, momentarily thrown off his rhythm.
"I, well, no. As I was saying, in my field, precision is everything. One wrong number and the IRS comes knocking."
"Makes sense," Ben replied mildly. "Accuracy matters in most professions."
Kelly watched, fascinated, as Rob grew increasingly frustrated by Ben's refusal to either challenge him or submit to his expertise. It was like watching someone trying to punch fog.
"What exactly do you do again?" Rob asked, his tone suggesting that whatever it was couldn't possibly compare to the intellectual rigor of accounting.
"I was in business development," Ben answered simply.
"Was?" Rob pounced on the past tense.
"Currently between ventures," Ben said, still maddeningly calm.
"Ah," Rob nodded knowingly. "Tough market these days for those without specialized skills."
Kelly felt her face grow hot with embarrassment and anger. Rob wasn't even trying to hide his smugness, his absolute certainty that he was the smartest person in the room. She started forward, intent on rescuing Ben, when something in his posture made her pause.
Ben wasn't bristling or retreating. He was absolutely unruffled, as if Rob's attempts to belittle him were so insignificant they didn't even register.
"Very tough," Ben agreed pleasantly. "How long have you been with your firm?"
And just like that, he’d redirected the conversation, letting Rob launch into a detailed history of his career achievements. Kelly watched, amazed, as Ben listened with apparent interest, occasionally asking a question that sent Rob into another self-congratulatory monologue.
Her brother was preening now, chest puffed out, voice carrying across the room. And Ben just stood there, nodding, maintaining eye contact, showing neither boredom nor irritation.
Kelly realized she was witnessing a kind of mastery. Ben wasn't engaging in Rob's dominance game. He wasn't competing. He simply refused to play at all. It was a confidence so complete it didn't need external validation.
She'd dated men who would have tried to match Rob's expertise with their own, turning the conversation into a knowledge contest. Others would have grown defensive or dismissive. Ben did neither, and somehow that made him seem infinitely more mature than her brother.
This man, who had come into her life so unexpectedly, who had supported her investigation without question, who had held her through the night without making demands, was now handling her difficult family with the same quiet strength he brought to everything else.
Her irritation at Rob transformed into something warmer as she watched Ben finally extract himself with a polite nod and make his way back to her, two drinks in hand.
"Your whiskey," he said, handing her the glass. "Sorry it took so long, but I didn’t want to be rude to your brother. He’s very proud of his promotion last year."
"I'm sorry about him," Kelly said, taking a fortifying sip. "He's always like that."
"It's fine," Ben shrugged. "I’ve seen his type before."
“At your job?”
“My previous job, and even before that. On Wall Street, there’s always someone who thinks they’re smarter than you or anybody else, for that matter.”
“But they aren’t,” she said, thinking of her brother.
“Sometimes they are, sometimes they’re not, but you’d better know the difference.”
“And who are you in business? The smart one? The risk taker?”
"I'm the responsible one."
"The boring one, you mean?" she teased.
Ben's smile was slow and warm. "Until recently, maybe. Things have gotten a lot more interesting lately."
He held her gaze for a moment longer than strictly necessary, and Kelly felt a flutter of something that had nothing to do with family tension or murder investigations.
"Mr. and Mrs. Bateman, dinner is ready to be served,” the ma?tre d' announced, breaking the moment.
Kelly sighed, preparing herself for the next phase of the evening.
"Ready for round two?"
Ben took her empty glass and set it on a passing waiter's tray. "Ready when you are."
As they followed the crowd toward the dining area, Kelly found herself grateful for his steady presence beside her. Whatever challenges the evening held, at least she wouldn't face them alone.
An hour later, Kelly excused herself from the table, needing a moment away from her mother's not-so-subtle hints about Celia's perfect wedding planning skills.
She'd barely made it halfway to the restrooms when her father appeared at her elbow, his fingers closing around her arm with gentle but unmistakable authority.
David Bateman was not a large man, but he carried himself with the confidence of someone who expected to be obeyed.
"A moment, Kelly," he said, his voice low but firm.
Before she could protest, he guided her toward a small alcove tucked between the restrooms and a service entrance.
The space was dimly lit compared to the glittering dining room, with a single sconce casting shadows across her father's face.
His expression was serious, his mouth set in the same thin line she remembered from childhood lectures about curfews and proper behavior.
What did I do this time?
"What is it, Dad?" she asked, already bracing herself. "Celia wants everyone back at the table for the toast soon."
"This won't take long," he replied, his eyes scanning the hallway to ensure they were alone. "I wanted to talk to you about your... friend."
She didn’t like this tone. At all.
"Ben?"
"Yes, Bennett Reilly." Her father pronounced the name with careful precision. "I made some inquiries about him."
"You did what?" The words came out sharper than she intended, heat rising to her face. "You investigated him? Like he's some kind of criminal? Do you have no shame?"
What was she even saying? Of course, he didn’t have any shame.