Page 124 of Bitter Confessions

“I’m sorry to leave you, but I have something to see to,” Charlotte said and squeezed her hand. “I’ll be in touch.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” she said honestly, and Charlotte smiled.

Charlotte left her with a former prime minster of Portugal and his wife. When they lingered, she seized the opportunity to gush about their country and blinked when she received an invitation to stay at their villa the next time she was in Lisbon.

“It was lovely meeting you. When my husband returns to the ballroom, I’ll introduce you,” she said.

“Please do.”

When they parted ways, she accepted a glass from a server. Since they were more than halfway through the night, she felt she deserved a celebratory drink. Thanks to Charlotte, she could rattle off sixteen names off the top of her head that would have made her father green with envy. If Roth needed anything politically in a dozen countries, she now had a name and, in some cases, even a phone number, since she’d been given quite a few business cards.

Confidence restored, she sipped champagne and searched for Roth, Colette, Lyle, or any familiar face she could pass the time with. An hour or so from now, she’d be home, sinking into a bubble bath. She just had to get through the last of the festivities without making a scene.

“You have a lot of nerve showing your face here.”

Her eyes fluttered shut. Damn. It was too much to hope for, thinking she could get through the night without facing her past. She turned to face Tucker Baldwin, who under other circumstances would have been her brother-in-law.

“Hello to you too.”

CHAPTER 24

Tucker glared at her. “You’re making jokes?”

She waved her flute of champagne. “Just trying to make polite conversation.”

His lip curled. “You think you’ll get polite conversation from me after what you did to my family?”

She looked for his father, Parker, or even Ford, who could stop this from escalating. Despite being the older sibling, Tucker had been the brash, irresponsible one. Making a scene wouldn’t benefit either of them, but Tucker was clearly past caring about the consequences. She didn’t see any Baldwins in the vicinity, but she noticed those around them edging away to watch from a safe distance.

“That was a long time ago, Tucker,” she said quietly, willing him to get a hold of himself.

“Not long enough. We’re still recovering from the destruction you wrought.”

“I didn’t?—”

He stepped into her space—close enough to pin her champagne glass between them.

“Are you really going to try to convince me our fathers dissolved their partnership for some reason other your inability to keep your word or your legs closed?”

The blood drained from her face as a chorus of shocked gasps echoed around them. Tucker seemed oblivious to their audience as he leaned down, so close he was almost kissing her. She should move, but his palpable hatred stunned her into immobility. He looked like he wanted to strangle her with his bare hands.

“My father had no choice but to cut ties with Maximus after you disgraced Ford. And how does Maximus respond? He forces everyone to choose to do business with him or us. We nearly went bankrupt, when it was his fault he had a slut for a daughter.”

Her paralysis finally broke. Moving jerkily, she tried to walk around him, but Tucker grabbed her arm. His grip was painful, but she didn’t protest. She couldn’t. Her heart was in her throat.

“Ford was going places. He had a mind for business. He could have taken us to the next level, but you broke him. While we were trying to keep the company afloat, he loses his mind and takes off to Colombia to become a farmer.”

Tucker said the last word with the same disdain others had for human traffickers or arms dealers.

“I’m sorry?” she said faintly.

“Ford’s a coffee farmer in Colombia,” Tucker said with such fervor that flecks of spit hit her cheek. “I lost everything because of you. My wife left me, and the stress landed my father in an early grave. I’ve worked my ass off to bring the company back from the brink. All these years later, my mother still can’t bring herself to get out of bed, and if that weren’t enough, that half-breed shows up again and starts gunning for me.”

His fingers dug into her flesh, grinding together muscle and bone. He wanted to hurt her. She could see it in his eyes. He wanted a reaction—was hungry for one—so she gave him nothing.

“If your husband thinks I’m going to fold because he’s throwing his weight around, he’s mistaken.”

“Take your hand off me,” she ordered.

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