by Chris Cannon
He gave her a long-suffering look. “Why am I your personal ambassador for the Christmas ball tonight?”
“Because I find your personality so delightful.” She batted her eyelashes at him. “Now answer the question.”
“They are walking toward the dance floor. The orchestra is playing a song. What do you think will happen next?”
“Oh.” That made sense. “You don’t have to be so condescending.”
“I strive to be just condescending enough, but sometimes the balance is hard to maintain.”
If they weren’t in the middle of a ballroom surrounded by her grandparents’ friends and associates, she would’ve flipped him off. As it was, she didn’t bother to respond.
On the dance floor, her grandparents took a traditional dance pose and the orchestra launched into a romantic rendition of “Blue Christmas.” Was that supposed to be a joke?
Her grandparents moved together with the ease of a couple who’d slow-danced together for fifty years. Funny how they looked so perfect together, when they actually lived as what? Friends? No, that wasn’t the right term. More like business partners or associates. The lack of love in their relationship seemed sad. Before, she’d wondered how her mother could walk away from everything. Now she knew. It was simple. True love trumped everything.
Would she have a chance to experience true love? She’d loved Zavien, or at least she thought she had. Just because he hadn’t returned her feelings didn’t mean hers hadn’t been real. Looking back on it, she could see the times she’d made comments about being willing to run away with him. He’d never, not once, said anything similar. Which made her feel stupid now.
Applause broke out around her, bringing her back to the moment. She clapped along with everyone else as her grandparents acknowledged the applause with slight nods of their heads.
Jaxon stood. “I’m going to visit the men’s room, and then I plan to hide on the terrace.”
Was he serious? Apparently so, because he took off like a shot.
His mother turned around from her conversation and frowned. “Where’s Jaxon?”
“I believe he ran to the restroom.” Should she follow his lead?
“When he returns, you two should dance.” Lillith said it like it was a fabulous idea. Bryn was pretty sure Jaxon would rather do a rendition of “I’m a Little Teapot” while wearing nothing but black socks and a Viking helmet than dance with her.
Not wanting to upset Lillith, she smiled and nodded. Her grandmother would be proud.
Ferrin came toward the table. The smile that lit Lillith’s face made Bryn’s heart hurt. Did Lillith harbor feelings for Ferrin? She’d claimed she was happy with a son who loved her and another one on the way. Was that true?
Bryn didn’t want to make eye contact with Ferrin, so she reached for another cookie while Lillith floated out of her chair to the dance floor. More and more couples joined her grandparents. Blonds dancing with blonds, as far as the eye could see. Always being the odd man out sucked. Maybe she should follow Jaxon’s lead and hide on a terrace. Then again, there were whack jobs like Taven on the terraces.
All she wanted to do was go hide in her room with a platter of cookies, but her grandmother would be hurt if she left the party early. That meant she had two choices. Sit here by herself and pretend it didn’t bother her that everyone else was dancing, or find a safe place to hide and kill some time while she waited for the orchestra to stop playing.
First, she’d retreat to the restrooms, and then she’d figure out a good hiding spot. The restroom off the ballroom reminded her of the restroom at a theater. There were multiple stalls and sinks. Most of them were in use at the moment, so she waited in line. Which didn’t bother her, because it killed more time. The woman in front of her glanced back to see who had joined the queue and frowned.
Great.
After leaving the restroom, Bryn walked the edge of the ballroom pretending to study the various Christmas trees lining the walls.
Jaxon stood across the room talking with Quentin and a few other guys. If there had been any females in the group, she might have joined him. With just males, it would be beyond awkward.
Now what? Out of ideas, she headed back to her table. Dang it. The table was empty. Everyone must be dancing. Which would look more pathetic—sitting by herself or standing off to the side by herself?
She’d sell a kidney on the black market for a friendly face at this point. Since there were none in sight, she opted for sitting at the table where she had the consolation of Christmas cookies.
With every cookie she ate, her mood sank.
Christmas Eve. All her life it had meant a cozy home, stringing popcorn, and watching Rudolph. Now it meant attending a ball where she was tolerated, but not welcomed. God, maybe she’d be better off living somewhere by herself, pretending to be human. With her love of food, she could become a chef or a baker. But then, she’d never be able to share who she truly was with anyone. That sounded lonelier than being ignored by hundreds of shape-shifting dragons.
In time, would they come to accept her? Did she care one way or another? Best-case scenario, she could live in Dragon’s Bluff with Valmont or his family. They were all warm, loving people who thought food made everything better. She liked that logic.
“Excuse me.” A Blue male she didn’t know stood in front of her. He glanced back at a group of males who were snickering.
Her internal alarm went off. Odds were this wouldn’t end well.
“Yes?” she braced herself.
“I was wondering if you’d like to dance?” The tone of his voice screamed, I am a jerk.
“One question: Are you the joke or am I?”
He blinked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She pointed at his friends. “Are they laughing at you for asking me to dance? Or are they laughing at me, because they think I’ll be stupid enough to believe you actually want to dance with me?”
The polite expression melted from his face, leaving behind a cold sneer. “You’re not stupid, are you?”
“No.”
“You realize this is probably the only chance you’ll have to dance tonight.”
That hurt a little bit because it was probably true. She gave him a go-screw-yourself smile. “Then I’d rather not dance.”
He mumbled something under his breath that sounded a lot like “bitch,” but she couldn’t prove it. And as much as she’d like to shoot a fireball at his head, she refrained.
When he reached his friends, he said something that made them laugh. What was he telling them? The idea that he’d be the one controlling what people thought had happened made her stomach churn. It’s not like she could counteract the rumors. Who did she know to talk to? Think. Damn it. Jaxon might help. Then again, he might just be pissed off she asked. Clenching her fists, she drank the last of her tea and resisted the urge to wing the empty glass across the room at her tormenter’s head.
A waitress came to refill her drink. Bryn was surprised to see it was Abigail. “Hello. How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine. Thanks to you.” Abigail grinned. “How are you enjoying the party?”
“It’s amazing. But do you know who that young man is over there?”
Abigail glanced toward the jerk in question. “He’s Liam Eldridge, son of a Directorate member.”
“He asked me to dance as a joke, and now he’s over there laughing it up with his friends. I’m not sure how to handle it.”
“Don’t worry, jerks like him always get their comeuppance one way or another.” She patted Bryn on the shoulder. “Forget about him. Go find someone nice to dance with.”
Easier said than done. “Thanks, I might try that.” Bryn sipped her tea and watched as Abigail walked over to another member of the waitstaff, an elderly woman Bryn didn’t know. The woman hovered around the table where Liam and his friends sat. What was she doing?
The elderly server lifted a pitcher of iced tea to refill Liam’s glass. Ab
igail walked behind the woman and jostled her so that she lurched forward, dumping the entire pitcher of tea onto Liam’s lap.
His outraged growl ripped through the ballroom. The elderly woman backed up apologizing. He opened his mouth like he was going to verbally rip her apart. Then he noticed everyone staring, and forced a tight smile.
The woman continued to apologize. He nodded and said something about it not being a big deal. Bryn ducked her head and sipped her tea when his gaze swept in her direction. Hopefully he wouldn’t connect the incident with her. Whoever the elderly woman was, Bryn was going to send her the mother of all gift cards from Fonzoli’s.
Jaxon and Quentin approached from across the room. Jaxon shot her an I know what you did look. She played innocent and hoped it was a convincing act.
Her grandmother returned to the table a short time later. “I wish you would dance.”
Laughter may not have been the appropriate response, but Bryn couldn’t help it. “That would require someone asking me.”
“But I saw Liam over here talking to you. Didn’t he ask you to dance?”
Was her grandmother fishing for a confession? How much should she tell her? Time to lay her cards on the table.
“He did ask me to dance, but he wasn’t sincere.” She told her grandmother about her conversation with the jerk.
“Well.” Her grandmother did not appear pleased. “That is disappointing. His father is one of your grandfather’s allies. I’d expect him to think of the consequences his actions might bring to his father’s interactions in the Directorate.”
Okay. Bryn’s feelings weren’t important. How this would reflect on Liam’s father and her grandfather were the concern. Did Blue dragons have their feelings removed at birth, or what?
“Are you responsible for Liam’s need to change clothing?” her grandmother asked.
She wasn’t about to admit to anything just yet. “If I were, how would you feel about that?”
“If you had orchestrated the event, I would request that you not use household staff to sabotage our guests.” A slow grin spread across her grandmother’s face. “But I would applaud your resourcefulness. Now, we need to develop your circle of allies, and Jaxon is going to help.”
Oh, God.
Her grandmother stared at Jaxon until he could probably feel the laser-like intensity sinking into his skull. He turned with a resigned look on his face and walked toward the table like a man approaching the gallows.
“Did you need something, Mrs. Sinclair?”
“Yes, Jaxon. I would appreciate it if you’d ask my granddaughter to dance.”
“Of course.” He turned to Bryn. “Would you like to dance?”
“My grandmother would like us to. Is that the same thing?”
“Yes.” Her grandmother’s tone was teasing with a bit of edge. “Go out there and pretend to enjoy each other’s company.”
“Let’s get this over with.” Jaxon took her hand and they moved onto the crowded dance floor. “You’re responsible for what happened to Liam, aren’t you?”
“Karma is responsible for what happened to him.”
Jaxon shook his head, but he was smiling.
“Are you friends with him?” she asked.
“No. Quite the opposite. His father and mine rarely agree, and he always acts so smug. It’s annoying.”
Jaxon’s calling someone else smug caught her off guard, and she laughed.
He glared at her. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.” She tried to maintain a straight face, but couldn’t.
“Are you saying I act like him?”
“You used to act like him. Now you’re not nearly as annoying.” He did not look appeased. “Now you’re downright charming. Warm and fuzzy, almost.”
He laughed and gave her a fake haughty look. “I’m a Westgate. We don’t do warm and fuzzy. It’s against our genetic code.”
“Someone at your house better do warm and fuzzy, because your mother is only going to become more hormonal.”
“I’m counting down the days until we return to school. She’s redecorating the entire estate to make it baby-safe. My father pointed out that the baby won’t be walking for a year, and she burst into tears. Now he’s ordering every babyproofing item on the internet and having the staff install them. She even put them in my room. It’s absurd.”
“It’s nice that your dad is trying to help her.”
“Please. He runs out the door on Directorate business at every opportunity, leaving me to pretend to be interested in baby blankets and strollers.”
“I wouldn’t mind spending time with your mom.” Where had that come from?
“Why would you want to spend time with her?”
“I like your mom.” And it’s not like she had a mom of her own to hang around. “Don’t worry, this isn’t a plot to walk you down the aisle. I could use a friend right now, and it sounds like she could, too. Unless you want to spend time looking at baby clothes.”
“No. You’re more than welcome to take over that duty. I’ll tell her you asked about decorations for the nursery, and she’ll take it from there, I’m sure.”
The song ended, and Jaxon stepped away from her. Another girl caught his eye, and he abandoned Bryn without another word. And it bothered her. Not that he was dancing with someone else, but that they’d been having a friendly, or so she thought, conversation, and he must have been counting the minutes until he could dance with someone else.
She stood there, unsure of what to do as couples started dancing around her. Did anyone else approach and ask her to dance? Of course not.
Fine. Holding her head high, she walked back to her table, which was empty again, damn it. Time to visit the bathroom. And she’d do it with a smile on her face. No reason for people to see that she’d been tossed aside again.
The losses in her life kept adding up. Zavien had been her emotional rock. Now he was gone. Her parents…best not to think about that right now. That left her with Jaxon. She’d been stupid enough to think they might be friends. He’d just proven that they might be allies, but nothing more.
Somehow, being rejected by her former nemesis was the final straw for the evening. She was done. If there were any way to have her feelings removed, at this point she’d be willing to look into it.
Chapter Thirty
How long could she hide in a bathroom stall before people noticed or someone came looking for her? Ten minutes ago she’d taken refuge in the ladies’ room. After five minutes of hiding in the stall, she came out and washed her hands multiple times.
Time to suck it up and head back out to the damn party where she felt like a social leper. She grabbed the door handle, and then backed up as it swung inward.
“There you are,” her grandmother said. “I was beginning to worry about you. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” That was a big fat lie.
“It’s time for us to adjourn to the small ballroom to open gifts.”
Aw, crap. She’d left the gift certificates for the gardening club and dessert-of-the-month at school. “I left your gifts in my dorm room.”
“Don’t worry, we can send for them later.” She waved Bryn out into the hall.
“What happens after the gift opening?” Was it too much to hope that everyone would go home so she could collapse in bed?
“After the presents are opened, we say good-night and guests are free to leave or mingle for a while longer over hot cocoa.”
Was she included in the list of people allowed to leave? The only way to find out was to ask. “Does that mean I can go lie down? I’m exhausted.”
“Normally, the answer would be no. But I know you’ve had a hard time this evening, so you can leave when the guests do.”
“Thank you.”
“All right now. Chin up. We are going to walk into that ballroom smiling like we don’t have a care in the world. Understand?”
No, but that didn’t matter right now. “One smiling granddaughter,
coming up.”
Plastering a grin on her face, she accompanied her grandmother into the small ballroom, where families congregated around individual Christmas trees. It looked like a scene out of a movie rather than something in real life.
Her grandfather stood there surveying his domain like the lord and master he thought he was. “You’re late,” he said without changing his facial expression—like a ventriloquist who could talk through a fake smile.
“No harm done.” Her grandmother reached down and pulled a shoe box–sized rectangular package from under the tree and handed it to him.
Why did he get the first gift? You’d think they’d let the little kids go first.
He carefully opened the package without ripping the paper. Inside was a box of cigars that reeked from three feet away.
“Thank you, Marie. This is perfect. I was running low.”
“You’re welcome.”
Stepford wasn’t a strong enough description for this exchange. Disingenuous might be better. Was this the same thing her grandfather said to her grandmother every year?
Her grandfather pulled a small blue velvet jeweler’s box from his pocket and handed it to his wife. She popped the lid and smiled a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Turning the box so Bryn could see, she said, “Aren’t they lovely?”
The teardrop sapphire-and-diamond earrings were amazing, but they didn’t seem to mean anything to either of her grandparents.
“They’re beautiful,” Bryn said. She wanted to add, and you people are crazy, but that wouldn’t help the situation.
Her grandfather nodded, like her response was appropriate. He pulled a long thin blue velvet box from his other pocket and handed it to Bryn. The plant-of-the-month and dessert-of-the-month club memberships she’d bought for them seemed vastly inappropriate now.
Popping the lid open on the box, her breath caught in her throat. A sapphire-and-diamond bracelet winked at her from the box. “It’s gorgeous.”
Both grandparents seemed pleased by her reaction.
“Let’s see what it looks like on.” Her grandmother removed the bracelet from the box and fastened it around Bryn’s left wrist, where it fit snugly enough that it couldn’t come off over her hand. She moved her wrist back and forth in the light, watching the stones sparkle.
