Page 25 of Savage Game
“And so you married him.”
Charlotte stayed silent for long moments, her gaze returning to the past as easily as looking beyond the glass of the windowpanes, before she nodded and whispered more to herself than him, “Yes, so I married him.”
Hans, his private chauffeur, halted the Tesla Model X on the one-way street opposite the main entrance of the Grand Plaza of Union Station. Charlotte seemed mesmerized by the choreographed patterns in the Henry Wollman Bloch Fountain, but Byron suspected she was gathering her resolve. She’d voiced her qualms about being his plus one for the gala, but he overruled her objections.
A uniformed valet rushed forward to open the back door and came to a skidding halt when Hans engaged the falcon-wing back doors. The corners of Byron’s mouth twitched. Somehow it seemed like he found enjoyment in a lot of things and discovered his sense of humor these days. Byron slid out of the sleek car before turning to help Charlotte exit from her seat.
He nodded at Hans and the gawking valet before guiding his date to the entrance of the swanky building where the annual gala for the Lewis-Hawkins Foundation would be held. With twelve hundred seats it was one of the bigger autumn events for Kansas City’s rich and influential.
Set up by the medical Lewis-Hawkins family, its purpose was to give talented and unprivileged students a medical school scholarship. Although many attendees used the gala to expand their professional network and to see and be seen, for Byron the cause was more personal. Coming from North Kansas City and growing up there, Byron had intimate knowledge of the struggle to better himself.
His gaze slid to the stunning woman beside him. Her revelation about her upbringing explained much about her, even her relationship with the bastard husband. The reminder of Liam Randall brought out the possessive caveman in him, and Byron splayed his fingers on the small of Charlotte’s back to make as much contact as possible.
Keeping a close eye on Charlotte, Byron led her through the crowd and discreetly exchanged some business cards. He might like the charity, but he wasn’t a fool to pass up any chance to further himself either. Slowly they were making their way through the crowd toward the tables exhibiting the to-be-auctioned items, when he spotted Doctor Gregory T. Lewis and his wife Doctor Sandra Duncan-Lewis.
“Ah, Nolan,” greeted Gregory. “Always a pleasure to have you. I hope you and your companion will have a pleasant evening.” His eyes slid to Charlotte and narrowed. “Good evening, Miss…”
“Charlotte,” she hurried to say. “Good evening to you, too.” She nodded politely at Mrs. Lewis, who smiled but didn’t speak.
The stunning brunette wasn’t a wallflower by any means, but Byron knew she was submissive to her husband and preferred to hang back at events like this.
Gregory cleared his throat. “I hope you have your checkbook ready, Byron. Please check out the wonderful items we have in the auction, including a one-week skiing vacation in Aspen for two.” In a friendly but also a bit forced fashion, he clapped a hand on Byron’s shoulder. Before Byron could dig into the matter, other attendees vied for the hosts’ attention.
“Thank you, I will.” He inclined his head. “Mrs. Lewis.” He led Charlotte closer to the table. In the past, he wouldn’t be interested in a trip for two. Right now, he wondered if Charlotte liked snow.
Relieved to be away from the prying eyes of the Lewises, Charlotte let her escort lead her toward the auction tables. Sandra Lewis had totally recognized her and probably so did her husband. How mortifying!
She only half paid attention to the items on display and kept casting furtive glances at the people around them—knowing they would run into more people she was acquainted with. She should have been more adamant about not attending. But how could she when he was so caring for her and clearly wanted her to escort him.
Maybe I’m a masochist and I like people—men—to trample all over me?
“Nolan.”
Byron and Charlotte slowly turned and faced Ben Dennehy.
A smile softened Mr. Dennehy’s face. “Mrs. Randall, you appear to be doing well.” He shot Byron a glance, which seemed to hold a wealth of meaning, but whatever he communicated went past her.
She glanced over to the man beside her and caught the nod he gave Mr. Dennehy. Apparently, he did understand the other man’s expression.
“I’m pleased to see you both.” Mr. Dennehy caught Charlotte’s hands and kissed her on her cheek. “The two of you seem well suited and happy together.”
Charlotte blinked and furrowed her brow. What did he mean by that comment? She slowly exhaled as Byron and Mr. Dennehy engaged in business talk. She might have been interested in the topic but, truthfully, she needed a little space to pull herself together. Although all the guests were courteous, Charlotte hadn’t missed the inquisitive glances and the soft whispers.
Will they all consider me a money-grabbing whore?
It was bad enough Liam and Michael viewed her like that, but for friends and acquaintances to think so lowly of her was another blow. She moved a little away from Byron. Ruining her reputation was one thing but dragging him down with her was another. She feigned interest in something at the far end of the table and eased further away. Byron and Mr. Dennehy were still engrossed in their conversation. Excellent.
Suddenly, a painful grip around her upper arm and a hard pull forced her to turn, and she came face-to-face with Liam.
Of course he’s here.
She tugged on her arm to no avail. The action only made him dig his fingers in deeper and she winced.
Smirking, he raked his beady eyes over her body. As he leaned toward her, she recoiled from the reek of liquor oozing from him. Even this early in the evening it was obvious Liam had imbibed heavily, and he swayed a little on his feet.
“My, my, my. Don’t you look dashing, flaunting around on the arm of another man?”
Charlotte closed her eyes as she fought back the nausea threatening to overwhelm her. It is just like him to be angry at her for something he’d arranged himself. She swallowed, centered her breathing, and deliberately made eye contact. “Good evening, Liam. I hope you’ll have a pleasant night.” She began to turn her head to Byron, but the nails of his hand pricked her arm, and she worried he might rip the beautiful dress.
