Page 53 of Dragonfly

I’ve never been like that. Even before my stint inside, I’ve always been more of an introvert. A loner. That’s why I ran my store by myself, too. I don’t really like people.

But does that mean it doesn’t bother me that, once we arrive, my ‘husband’ ditches me almost immediately.

He has a place at the head of the main table. Two suits are sitting next to him, and the only thing stopping me from being irrationally jealous that I’m tucked all the way at a small circle table across the room is the fact that everyone at that main table is a guy. Not even Genevieve is sitting with Damien, though that might be because she’s flitting all around the place, joining whichever table has an empty seat.

Just because Gen is occupied and, between courses, Damien is obviously still avoiding me, that doesn’t mean I’m sitting by myself.

Oh, no. I have a babysitter.

I should’ve expected as much. When Vin plopped down in the seat next to me for the hors d’oeuvres course, one look at his scowl and I know that Damien put him up to it.

I’m not fooled by the scowl. He might hate me because he was the one who was seconds late to stop me from turning Damien’s knife on him, but he’s nowhere near as scary as he wants me to think he is. I’ve seen him with Genevieve, and even if I could brush that off as him taking care of his baby cousin, I caught him tossing one of Orion’s catnip mice for him.

After the appetizers, but before the salad, Gen decides that I need to be a part of the socialization.

I get introduced to Christopher, Genevieve’s friend I’ve actually already heard a bunch about, plus his boyfriend, Paul. Gio stops over to ask how I’m liking the bed he and his buys put together, and I find out that one of the other dark-haired suits who was there that day is an enforcer named Oliver who congratulates me when he notices my necklace.

Apart from that, no one makes any reference to the fact that I’m Damien’s wife at all.

That’s not a surprise, either. I get the vibe that, for weeks now, I’ve been his dirty, little secret. Just because he insisted I come with him to this party, that didn’t mean it was going to change.

So it sucks, but I force myself to eat my salad, refuse any offers of alcohol, and try my fucking best not to look around the room in search of dinner.

Even Dr. Liz stops by my table to say ‘hello’, a flute of champagne in her hand. She’s wearing a cream-colored dress that shows off a surprisingly flattering shape. I guess, since I only saw her while she was wearing scrubs and a white coat, I shouldn’t have assumed, but she looks really good—something that Vin obviously notices.

Her friendly smile is a welcome when mostly everyone else in the room is either watching me curiously or, following Damien’s lead, pretending I’m not even here.

Once she drifts away, heading off to talk to someone else, Vin grunts out bluntly, “Gotta take a shit. I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

I don’t say anything. I’d suspect he’s really trailing behind Dr. Liz, trying to get her alone for a moment, but even if he does have to poop? I didn’t need to know that, and I really don’t care.

Vin takes my silence as an agreement that I’m going to sit tight like a good little girl, then pushes himself out of the seat.

We’re between courses again. At the rate this is going, dinner is going to take five hours by the time it’s done since there’s a good twenty minutes between meals where everyone gathered can chat. I resign myself to sitting alone, waiting to see if the main course gets served first or Vin comes back to babysit me.

Two minutes after he got up—and not enough time for him to go the bathroom—someone takes Vin’s seat.

“I’ve been waiting all night for a chance to talk to you.”

Oh? Shifting in my seat, I look at my new companion.

He’s about my age, maybe a year or two younger. He has dark blond hair in a money cut, deep brown eyes, and a winning smile that might’ve worked on Georgia as he slings his arm onto the back of my seat, trying to pull me into it.

It might’ve worked on Georgia.

Savannah doesn’t have time for his shit. “That’s nice. But I’m here with someone, so…”

“I know. I saw you with Vinnie. No knock on him, but I think I might be a better catch. Besides,” he adds, using his other hand to trail down my nearest empty forearm, “if he liked you so much, you’d be marked as his property before he brought you around the rest of the Family. Since he didn’t, you’re fair game.”

I am?

I don’t bother correcting him that I’m here with Damien, not Vin. It’s not of his business, and regardless of how these Dragonflies treat their women, I’m not about to let him treat me like he can own me.

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

His hand is still close enough to my arm that, when I go to get up, he tightens his fingers around my wrist. “I don’t think you understand. I didn’t come here with a date. They didn’t give me a plus one. I’m getting laid tonight, and I picked you. So instead of trying to play hard to get, just be grateful that I’m paying you any attention.”

Idiot. Doesn’t he realize that attention is the last thing I want, especially from some creep?

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