Page 122 of Bitter Confessions

“No mistake. Your donation came in and was followed by your husband’s two days later. He doubled your donation to every single charity.”

She shook her head, sure she hadn’t heard correctly. “My husband donated to...?” She was so astounded she couldn’t finish her sentence.

“You didn’t know?” Charlotte splayed her hand over her chest. “Was this a surprise and I spoiled it? Maybe he was going to tell you on Christmas. How romantic!”

Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She was flabbergasted. How the hell had he found out about her donations, and why had he doubled the amount? A tax break? Public solidarity? Recognition? Ten percent of her inheritance had been a massive commitment for her. So was the Rolls-Royce worth more than half a million dollars. But between the jewelry and these donations, he overshadowed her by such a large margin that her contribution became irrelevant. That wasn’t counting the tens of millions more he’d been dumping into Hennessy & Co… She had the insane urge to pay him back, even though she knew he could afford it.

Charlotte did a little jump and grabbed a hold of her arm. “We’d better hurry. They’re bringing in the first course.”

Her mind was awhirl as they entered the dining room with a small army of servers carrying large serving trays. There were two long tables she estimated held about fifty people each. Most of the guests were deep in conversation with their neighbors or distracted by the appetizers being set in front of them, but far too many eyes locked on her and Charlotte. Sullivan was one of them. He sat at the head of one of the tables and beamed at them.

“You found her!” he called, making several people turn in their seats to look.

Stomach churning, she desperately searched for an open seat, but it was hard to see with the servers blocking the way. She spotted Colette and Lyle sitting in the middle of the table and slowed, assuming they’d be seated near each other.

“Come—our seats are over here,” Charlotte said and led her to the head of the table, where Nathaniel sat with Roth on his right and Mikhail on his left.

Beside Roth were two empty seats. He was deep in conversation with Mikhail and Nathaniel, so a server scooted her chair in. She gave him a grateful smile as Charlotte greeted the elderly woman on her right.

She immediately reached for her water glass. She declined the alcoholic beverages in the ballroom, a habit she held to even though her dad and sisters were no longer enforcing it. Mikhail, who was sitting across from Roth, gave her a small nod of acknowledgment. She nodded back and switched her gaze to the woman beside him, who had her head inclined toward the woman on her left. With everyone engaged, it gave her a moment to collect herself. She ate the appetizer in front of her in two bites. As soon as she finished, her plate was swept away and replaced by the second course.

The dining room featured bronze baroque chandeliers, gilded mirrors, gold leaf accents, and a ceiling mural. She scanned the opposite table Sullivan was hosting. It seemed they’d grouped politicians, athletes, and entertainers together, while Nathaniel was hosting the finance and investment group.

As her gaze moved along their table, she spotted Warren sitting across from Lyle and Colette, and a few seats down, a mature version of her sister. The similarities between Colette and her mother, Estelle, were uncanny. Estelle, despite being in her mid-sixties, looked fifteen years younger than that. Her hair was pulled back in an elegant twist, the shine of her yellow diamond pendant easy to see even from this distance. Beside Estelle was her father, Cecil, the man who tried to take down Hennessy & Co. She watched them for a minute. Colette showed no signs of distress that she was seated so close to her estranged mother and grandfather, though Lyle looked a little tense.

As if Colette sensed her regard, she turned her head. As their eyes met, the significance of their positions at the table struck her. How many times had she watched her father and sisters entertain at the head of the table while she took care of the less important guests in the middle? As if Colette were registering their role reversal as well, she smiled. The look of pride on her older sister’s face made her eyes sting with tears.

When a hand skated down her thigh, her attention swung to Roth, who was turned in his seat toward her. He leaned forward and under the guise of kissing her cheek murmured, “Do I have to chain you to my side to make sure you’re where you’re supposed to be?”

His lips were curved slightly in what most would think was an indulgent smile. Only she saw the wrath in his eyes.

“That’s two strikes. If there’s a third, you’ll pay when we get home.”

When she started to turn away, he grasped her chin.

“Don’t piss me off more than you have already,” he warned before he kissed her.

Her hand fisted in her lap as she resisted the urge to slap him. He wasn’t satisfied with a quick peck; he took his time, making a spectacle of them. He taunted her with their chemistry to punish her. He withheld from her all week, shutting her out and treating her like a possession again instead of a person. He convinced her to give him another chance, only for them to end up here again. Threats, blackmail, and pain. They’d come full circle.

When he pulled away, she was numb. He turned back to Nathaniel while she mechanically ate what was in front of her. As soon as she finished, a tiny bowl of soup was placed in front of her. How many courses were there? She should be hungry, but she’d lost her appetite.

“Jasmine, have you met Althea and Harriet?” Charlotte asked.

“No, I haven’t had the pleasure,” she murmured and gave her attention to the women across the table as Charlotte made introductions.

Althea was a widow, and Harriet was the wife of a digital trading pioneer. Both women were a little older than Colette, and to her relief, they were friendly, intelligent, and informative. The stimulating conversation made dinner pass quickly. Each meal was tiny, so they could get through all twelve courses.

During a lull in conversation, her eyes traveled up to the ceiling mural. Were those cherubs attacking warships? Her mind wandered until Roth’s hand settled on her leg. He didn’t look at her as he did so. What had she done now? Was he upset she wasn’t doing her job of extracting every bit of information possible from her table companions? She was about to brush him off when she noticed Charlotte staring wistfully.

“My husband loved me like that,” Charlotte said in a subdued monotone. “We couldn’t get enough of each other. You think you have forever, and then...”

News of Charlotte’s husband’s untimely death had also made the headlines. “I’m sorry.”

Charlotte didn’t take her eyes from Roth’s proprietary hand. “I grew up hearing our family was cursed. I didn’t believe it until I lost my husband in a freak boating accident. What are the odds? Then we lost my mom, Lily, and Nathan’s wife.” Charlotte took a deep breath. “I wasn’t sure I was going to make it through, but there was Dahlia, and Nathan couldn’t, so I...” Charlotte’s shoulders drooped slightly. “I’m trying to be there for her, but she’s so shut down. She barely speaks. All she does is read. I don’t know what to do.”

Jasmine hesitated before reaching out and lightly touching Charlotte’s arm to shake her out of her self-reflection. “This is just my opinion, but I think Dahlia’s doing better than you think.”

Charlotte’s brows came together. “What makes you think so?”

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