26. Anna #2
Seriously, I’m worried this man has turned me into a sex addict.
It’s not like I was a prude before, but I wasn’t ever like this .
And it seems he’s the only one who can do it for me, because as I exit the bathroom and recirculate the museum, I come across plenty of attractive men…
and have absolutely no reaction to any of them.
I’m also reassured that I’m blending in here, because several women go out of their way to compliment my dress and accessories.
“Yes, that necklace in particular is quite stunning,” someone says behind me just as I’m about to head back down the stairs to the ground floor.
I noticed the woman out of my periphery when I first came up to the second-floor gallery but didn’t get a good look at her.
Now that I do, I can confirm that my necklace isn’t the only thing that’s stunning.
Everything about the woman is utter perfection, from the tip of her designer heels to the top of her brunette head.
Between her figure and her face, she looks like a Barbie doll come to life, and her emerald gown looks like something right out of a fairy tale.
Simply looking at her, I would guess she was no older than thirty-five, but there’s a slightly artificial quality about her.
It doesn’t detract at all from her beauty, but it hints that she’s likely a little bit older.
“You must be Annaleigh Evans. I’m Lillian Blackwood,” she introduces, shaking my hand. When she sees the look on my face, she lets out an almost melodic laugh. “Don’t mind me. I’m on the board of the Forester Foundation, and I make a habit of learning all of our donors’ names.”
My brain takes a second to process that, because I know from the placard coming in that there are only two women on the board and the other I already met outside.
This is Damon’s stepmother.
Maybe being pure evil is good for the skin because otherwise, I need to know this woman’s beauty regimen.
Damon’s brother is twenty-nine, and he also mentioned his stepmother had a modeling career before she got married, likely making her to be fifty, at a minimum.
This has to be a mistake. Maybe one of the names I saw on the placard was actually another woman, just with a more masculine name…like Johnathan, or Mark, or Robert.
That small (and utterly ridiculous) notion is quickly dispelled as I note the way she regards me.
Particularly the butterfly cut bracelet on my right wrist. She doesn’t let go of my hand, instead raising it to get a better look at the piece.
“Fourteen karat white gold and… twelve total carat weight?” She tries to make it sound like a guess, but I see it for what it is.
“Fourteen and ten,” I correct.
She smiles, regarding me with an expression I can’t decipher.
I don’t think I’m what she was expecting. If she knew the basics about me, she’d correctly assume I have no money. Yet, I stand here, decked out in finer jewelry than most of the people here.
“I can’t tell you how grateful I am for your last-minute donation.
You and several others were able to get us over our goal for the year,” she says, still looking at me like she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing.
I live in an apartment just north of the dodgy end of town, and I shouldn’t have any money.
Yet, I’m here, at a gala charging $3,200 a plate.
“What made you take an interest in the foundation?”
“My grandmother was a huge proponent of my education and always donated to a very similar cause when I was growing up, and I wanted to see if I could give back to the community.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“Not long, but everybody has been very accommodating. And this also seemed like a great way to meet people.”
“What do you do for a living?”
“I’m currently between jobs,” I answer, unabashedly gesturing down at myself. “Technically, I don’t need to work, but you know what they say about idle hands and all.”
It’s true. If there was a way to do it without the fear of Sebastian finding out and tracking me, I could sell everything he’s gifted me and walk away with a cool million, easily. Nana taught me how to stretch a penny, so I’d be able to make that little jackpot last for quite a while.
The longer we talk, the more I can see her opinion shifting about me.
She’s wondering if maybe Holt researched the wrong girl.
She’s wondering if I’m nothing to worry about.
“ Hello, Lillian.” That silken voice elicits two very different reactions. While it sends heat right to my core, my new acquaintance looks like she might go into apoplectic shock.
Damon comes sauntering up the stairs with such calm confidence that he somehow looks every bit like he belongs here despite the blatant tattoos and lack of formal wear.
And I’m not the only one taking notice. A few of the women passing by him on their way down the stairs do a double take, one outright admiring his ass.
His stepmother, on the other hand, doesn’t share the sentiment.
Her grip tightens around the champagne flute in her hand so hard that she has to set it on the ledge beside her, as if she’s at risk of breaking it.
And the expression on her face? The combination of rage, disgust, and horror is so palpable you’d think she was staring at a rabies-infected raccoon who was terrorizing her guests.
“Damon.” Clearly, security didn’t give her a heads up, probably because she didn’t think he’d ever come to this kind of an event, but she recovers quickly enough with a polite smile. “What on earth are you doing here? You’re not on the guest list.”
That last part is more of an accusation, but Damon just continues to grin like a cat who ate an entire pet shop of canaries.
“Well, then you didn’t read it properly. My father always wanted me to attend at least one of his benefits; said there’s always room for family.”
“Your father isn’t here—”
“Ah, but the amendment he made to all his foundations is. If you grab a copy, you’ll see he specifically added a clause in which any blood relative would be allowed to attend his events, regardless of station or pledges. And how glad I am to have come,” he says, eyeing my body far too freely.
His stepmother shoots him a look, nothing short of appalled, but he doesn’t acknowledge it, taking my hand into his to place a kiss atop it again.
“As it just so happens, this decadent creature and I were just having a very interesting discussion out on the dance floor.” He gives her the kind of shit-eating grin that could send a chill down anyone’s spine. And it has its desired effect.
Lillian goes even paler than she already is, not liking the implication that our two worlds have collided.
“Now, I only heard about the robbery at Westfall on the news, but Annaleigh here tells me she was there herself,” he says oh so casually. “And quite the harrowing tale it is.”
“Is that so?” Lillian tries to appear concerned for my sake, but she still can’t help but glare back at her stepson.
“Yes, I was there interviewing for a job when it happened, and while I hadn’t even considered it, Damon made a rather astute observation just now,” I add sweetly.
That grin Damon’s wearing begins to show some teeth, and with the pointed canines, it’s all the more predatory.
He’s here to make a kill. “Anna here tells me that the manager grabbed her and outright threw her over himself to ensure the robbers would grab her rather than him while they were taking hostages. Sounds an awful lot like grounds for an endangerment lawsuit, not just for the company but personally as well. Though, I can’t say I’m too surprised.
Bravery and decency have never been my brother’s strong suits. ”
Come again?
“Devin’s your brother?” I don’t need to pretend this is a revelation. Because it is. “ Seriously? You two look nothing alike.”
This earns me a chuckle from Damon and a scowl from Lillian, but the former redirects the conversation back to the point.
“This is also my stepmother, as well as the owner of Westfall Jewelers. She took over the business after my father’s death.”
Let the awkwardness ensue.
Again, I don’t have to act uncomfortable, seeing as how I’ve just expressed interest in suing this woman’s company and son right to her face.
Damon, however, looks as chipper as a boy on Christmas morning. “I’ll let you marinate on that while I have another dance with this lovely lady.”
I’m all too happy to join him, especially if it means putting some distance between me and his stepmother.
“I’m going to run out of room on my back at this rate if anyone else wants to put a target there,” I mutter once we’ve reached the ground floor.
“What if she gets somebody else involved? What if Sebast—”
Damon puts his finger to my lips. “Trust me, love. I know how this woman operates.” His expression darkens, and heat once again surges to my core as he diverts us away from the dance floor. “And don’t ever let that name come out of those lips again.”
I doubt it’s a happy accident that we find ourselves alone. The gallery we’re standing in is made up of historical portraits, but those are the only eyes on us.
And even more conveniently, there’s a short, dark hallway with an emergency exit at the end.
A perfect little hiding place.
Only half of his body is illuminated once we’ve headed down it, but I can still see that expression is there as his gaze drops below my face.
“Does it make you jealous, seeing me wearing his diamonds?” I taunt, running a finger over the jewels resting along my collarbone.
“Fuck no.”
I ease my legs apart, daring him. “Is that right?”
He nods, slowly.
“Why?”
My back hits the cold wall as his body presses into me, his fingers wrapping around my throat with one hand as the other pulls the high slit of my dress aside and presses his palm against my clit.
“Because I’ll be giving you the necklace you really want,” he purrs, increasing the pressure on both.