Page 52 of Savage

Fuck.

She sips on her drink and eyes me for a while. I don’t trust the strange smirk on her lips, and I try to think of a reason why I should leave. Maybe I need to offer moral support for Hunter, or I want some appetizers, or…

“So how did you and Hunter meet?” Bethany asks, still smirking. “I only ask because despite what Mother said, I don’t think Hunter would go to a restaurant. Definitely not the kind of restaurant that employs aspiring actresses.”

My cheeks flush, and I wonder what she would think if she knew her beloved—well, as beloved as anyone can be in a family full of backstabbers and snakes—brother had met me in a low-class strip club.

If she knew he’d bought me.

She’d probably just question his taste level and nothing more.

I hate these people.

I almost miss Ntimacy.

“I… Ah… You see, I…” I stumble over my words, taking a sip of water to give myself a precious few seconds to think. If I humiliate Hunter, he’ll turn on the toy inside of me. “I was just lucky, that’s all.”

Bethany snorts. “Lucky. Sure. I can’t think of the last woman who thought she was lucky to meet my brother. But I guess his riches are worth putting up with him. Take my advice—let him buy you a few diamonds and some clothes, then get out of there.”

I wish I could say I was surprised at the way she throws her brother under the bus, but I’m not. “Why do you say that?” I ask cautiously.

“You don’t know yet?” Bethany laughs. “Have fun finding out, then. I think I see my other brother. I’ll go rescue him from his wife.” She places her empty wine glass on my tray and leaves me, just in time for a high-pitched sound to come through from the audio system.

I want to ask her what she means, but I doubt she’ll clarify even if I try to get her to. Besides, I’m grateful to be alone—until I realize I am alone in a crowd of people, and I have no idea where to go or what to do.

Except the second-floor bathroom.

My arm itches.

I linger there, awkwardly sipping on my water after ditching the tray on a table, and look up at the podium.

An older woman with blonde hair smiles at the crowd. “Wow, there are a lot of you! I’m glad to see so many other passionate people here tonight. I hope you’ve all been enjoying the bar—not so much that you can’t sign your name on a check, of course.”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes, but the crowd laughs at her joke.

I feel terribly lonely in this crowd of horrible people who only decide to help people when it’s fashionable or when they can show it off to an audience.

At least the people at Ntimacy didn’t pretend to be anything other than what they were, but the more I’m around this supposed high echelon of society, the more I realize the two-sidedness might even be worse.

The woman talks only for a few minutes before she introduces “the esteemed Doctor Hunter Savage.”

He gets up on stage, and to my shock, he’s smiling. It’s not one of those small, private smiles he occasionally bestows upon me, though I wouldn’t call it genuine, either.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” Hunter says in a much warmer tone than I’m used to. “It is nice to see you all gathered here today, despite the traffic.”

More chuckles from the crowd.

“Now, it won’t come as a shock to anyone that a doctor cares just a little about healthcare. I’m an obstetrician, and I specialize in difficult pregnancies. So I can tell you that I’ve seen quite a few cases that were all but hopeless—or appeared so.

“We’re all aware that our country is currently suffering under a healthcare crisis. It hits our youngest patients especially hard. Nobody should be suffering from a terminal illness, let alone anyone too young to have lived.”

He almost sounds like he really does care, and I’m not sure if it’s real or if he’s just pretending. Is there a part of him that does want to help people?

I can’t help but doubt it.

He continues talking, mentioning anecdotes of babies and mothers he’s saved, and a case where he didn’t. Is any of it true? Does he actually have this warm, caring side to him, and it’s just me he treats with contempt?

Because they’re innocents, and I’ve made my choices, I guess. I know he doesn’t think drug addicts are even real people deserving of empathy. But children… It’s not hard to think about children being worth saving.

---