Page 112 of Bitter Confessions

Roth moved through the dense and strangely silent crowd, which parted to let them pass. She knew news of their inappropriate make-out session would circulate. Had he kissed her to cancel out gossip about her breakdown? Did it matter? If she was wearing this gown, she might as well live up to her wild reputation.

This time, she didn’t resist when Roth entered the ballroom. She wasn’t sure if it was the surplus of gold, her nerves, or the fact she was treading on what felt like holy ground, but her insides began to buzz as if she’d taken a shot of alcohol.

Roth headed toward a group surrounding a man in a tux with a white bow tie, who noticed Roth’s approach and grinned broadly. Those around the man turned to see who’d caught his eye. The older man excused himself and didn’t bother maneuvering through the crowd—it parted for him the same way it did for Roth. He didn’t have Roth’s size or aggressive energy, which could only mean...

“Sullivan,” Roth acknowledged.

“You made it!” The man clapped Roth fondly on the shoulder.

“We wouldn’t miss it.”

The man focused on her. He had spellbinding eyes the darkest shade of blue she’d ever seen. His wavy hair had been slicked down, but the ends were beginning to curl. He had a full beard—more appropriate for a man who lived in the woods than this mansion.

“You must be Jasmine,” he said.

“Pleasure to meet you.” She took his hand and felt her lips curve as he gallantly kissed it.

“Would you honor me with a dance, my dear?”

His question ripped a hole in her blank space, which began to deflate like a balloon. She was supposed to stand at Roth’s side, smile, and look pretty, not dance or converse one-on-one with their host. She held her tongue, giving Roth time to come up with some clever excuse to get her out of this.

Sullivan’s attention shifted to Roth. “I guess I should be asking you,” he said jovially. “May I dance with your beautiful wife?” When Roth didn’t answer immediately, Sullivan chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’ll bring her back.”

Roth’s hand slid down her spine before he murmured, “Yes, bring her back to me.”

Sullivan waved his hand, and magically, the dance floor began to clear as people backed off to the sidelines. “Shall we?”

Jasmine tried desperately to hang onto the void, but as Sullivan pulled her away from Roth’s raw magnetism, the ugly emotions began to creep back in. What the hell was going on here? Roth told her he knew Sullivan, but to act as if the festivities could begin now that they’d arrived, and single her out for a dance when there were hundreds present... She was missing something vital, but there was no time to ponder what that could be, because Sullivan turned to face her.

A hush fell over the ballroom as she took his hand and placed the other on his shoulder. Only then did she register there was no music. As her eyes rounded in horror, the first notes of a violin filled the room.

Sullivan chuckled as he took the first step. His eyes warmed with approval when she followed his lead. “I pay them to be ready at a moment’s notice.”

“They’re cutting it close,” she muttered before she remembered who she was talking to.

Sullivan grinned. “Want me to fire them?”

“No.”

Whispers swept across the room, but she was too busy trying not to trip over her feet to pay attention. Sullivan was doing the basic steps of a slow waltz, with some improvisation here and there. He was clearly a skilled dancer, which helped her relax a little. Those three summers of dance classes she’d thought had gone to waste were saving her ass right now.

She kept her gaze fixed over his shoulder and made sure her social mask was firmly in place. Only he could feel the tension in her body, but who wouldn’t be unnerved by an impromptu dance in front of an audience?

“Your father would be proud,” Sullivan said.

Her eyes flicked from the sea of blurry faces to him. Her brows began to come together before she remembered the spectators. “I think you have me confused with one of my sisters, Mr. Trentham.”

His eyes sparkled with humor. “Call me Sullivan, and I don’t have you confused with your sisters. I have the right Hennessy daughter—the black sheep of the clan.”

She missed a step. “Excuse me?”

“You caused quite the scandal.”

The last thing she’d expected was to openly address her past with their host. She didn’t know what else to say except, “That was a long time ago.”

“I’m sure you’ll find everyone remembers the details of your affair just fine.”

Her temper flared at feeling like the butt of some joke. “Which is why I didn’t want to come.”

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