Page 56 of Pawn

“I handled it,” he says against my lips, the peppermint taste he leaves on my mouth mixing with the whiskey on my tongue. “It won’t happen again.”

“You should’ve let me handle it.” I’m still not satisfied that I didn’t tell that dickhead where he could shove it.

“You can make me pay for it later.” His voice is husky, softening my hard shell. “This is important. We’re almost through it. Shay’s down.”

“Really?” My eyes to the chandelier, I let out a sigh, “Fine.”

“You wanna go hang with the wives? They’re all in the sitting room behind the kitchen.”

Better than standing around these pervs. “At least they won’t gawk at my butt.”

“That’s mine.” His hand grabs my ass as I walk away and that makes me know that the devil is still alive.

When I get to the room, six women sit amongst three couches. The chatter stops when they see me and I’m like a deer in the headlights.

Fuck.

I’m about to turn and walk away before someone calls out to me.

“Jo! We were just speaking about you.”

Turning around, I see Mary’s sparkling ring waving me over, a huge grin on her red smile. I met her at a dinner with her husband a couple of weeks ago. The one where she wouldn’t shut up about the Louis Vuitton purse she couldn’t return.

“I bet you were,” I say under my breath, taking a glass of champagne from the coffee table before I sit. I pick a spot between the two younger women, one with curly red hair, the other with straight blonde strands.

“It’s boring in there anyway,” the redhead leans over and whispers, giving me a small smile. It’s not a tight-lipped one like the rest of these women. It seems kinda genuine so I give her one back.

“What will you do with the decor in this place?” The blonde next to me pipes. “Now that Sebastien has passed. Rest his soul.”

“Uh,” I stall, shrugging. “A few Nirvana posters and some more instruments wouldn’t hurt.”

The blonde jerks her head back, blinking at me like an alien, and I feel like one.

“What do you think about the champagne?” Another woman asks, wiggling her glass. “I do prefer the 1959 Dom but this is a classic.”

The women all nod and agree before their eyes land on me. I take a sip, biding more time. “Yeah, it’s uh, sweeter.”

A woman snorts on the sofa across from me, the woman beside her whispering into her ear. These women are no different than the girls I go to high school with. Sitting in here is worse than being out with the guys. At least they appreciate my assets but these women just seem bitter and jealous.

Mary changes the subject. “Will you be at the General’s Ball and the Venetian Cruise in the spring? Damien says we’ll have the pleasure of sitting with you.”

Damien says.

Of course, he did, because ever since I moved in here it’s been about him and his business. Putting on a show for his colleagues and the one time I have a friend over, his friend, he lost his shit.

“I’m not sure about that,” I respond, a waiter refilling my glass. Is he even really doing this for The Grove? If he was, he wouldn’t be hosting these frilly fucking parties.

“Oh.” Mary looks surprised. Everyone does for some reason. What the fuck did I say now? “I just figured since your boyfriend will be there …” She says boyfriend like it disgusts her.

And it only helps me reach my limit.

“You got somethin’ to say?” Downing my drink, I slam the glass on the coffee table.

I’m not gonna fight her, I just need her to know that I don’t like her. That I don’t like this. Any of it.

The room is quiet. No more chatter. No more whispers.

She steps up to the challenge, having more balls than I thought. “I’m surprised you’re even here at all if you have no interest in socializing amongst Damien King’s colleagues.”

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