Page 127 of Bitter Confessions

Hmm. She looked around for Charlotte or someone she’d met who might be able to help. Her ear picked up a group speaking German. She redirected Roth and apologized for interrupting their conversation before asking if they knew Christoph Braun.

One of the women grinned and jerked her head at the man beside her, who was looking down at her with his brows raised.

“I knew your father,” he said in German as he took her hand. “I’m pleased to know he had one of his daughters learn our language.”

“It’s served me well over the years,” she said with a smile. “I trust your wife, Elsa, is well?”

His face warmed. “She is. She hates to travel, so my son came with me.” He beckoned a man who immediately came forward. “This is my son, August.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” she said before switching to English. “I’m Jasmine, and this is my husband, Roth.”

“I heard about you several years ago. You do business with quite a few of my friends,” Christoph said, eyeing Roth thoughtfully.

When it came to business, Roth was never at a loss for words. It was building rapport through small talk that he struggled with. Christoph and August were clearly Roth’s kind of people and weren’t interested in personal details.

As they talked, she finished her second glass and searched the room for the man with the handlebar mustache Colette had pointed out at the beginning of the night. He was the last person Roth had to meet, and this would all be over.

Her wandering eyes moved over the dancers and those networking on the sidelines. Everyone’s spirits were high, but she felt disconnected from it all. At Charlotte’s side, she’d convinced herself she belonged here; that this was her birthright, and she’d finally been accepted in high society. But her past would always haunt her.

Those icy stares from her father’s associates made more sense now. Many of them had done business with both Parker and her father, but Maximus’s ultimatum had caused a domino effect of dissension. And now Roth was going after Tucker... Had Parker had a hand in running Roth out of the States, or was Roth going after the last Baldwin standing because he felt like it? She glanced at Roth, already knowing how he’d respond to such a question—that it was none of her business. When he turned his head, she resumed her hunt for their final contact and stilled.

Colette stood in a far corner of the room, facing off with her oil-tycoon grandfather and mother. Before, Cecil towered over Colette, but now, he was an inch or two shorter, which Jasmine knew enraged the conceited bastard. Although her sister looked composed, she knew whatever they were talking about was far from pleasant. Lyle wasn’t by Colette’s side, but she knew her sister was more than capable of standing up for herself.

Colette’s mother, Estelle, had her hand on her father’s arm and seemed to be trying to calm him, but Cecil shook her off and leaned into Colette. Whatever Cecil said caused a break in Colette’s placid demeanor. Her sister took a step back, pain contorting her features.

Jasmine wasn’t aware she’d taken a step forward until Roth wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into his side. “Don’t interfere,” he said under his breath.

“Is something wrong?” Christoph asked.

“Sorry, I thought someone needed me,” she said with a bland smile.

“They don’t,” Roth said shortly before continuing to discuss a rail logistics company Christoph had recently acquired.

She continued her Where’s Waldo? search for Amos Faulkner, but her gaze kept cutting back to her sister. Colette eyed Cecil stoically as he spoke. Jasmine’s nails cut into her palms. Colette wouldn’t signal for help either. She’d accept whatever nasty things her grandfather said. The fact Cecil had actively tried to make Colette fail, was unashamed of it, and felt justified in shaming her for trusting him made Jasmine’s temper, which had been on simmer, ignite. The same protective instinct that had caused her to put herself in the line of fire to save Hennessy & Co. and defend Roth to her sisters on Thanksgiving roared to life. Yes, her sister could handle her battles on her own, but that didn’t mean she had to.

Roth had grown complacent—that was the only reason she was able to tear free. She said a hurried, “Excuse me,” before plunging into the crowd. She pretended not to hear several women call out her name. No one was going to stop her from getting to her sister’s side.

“Cecil!” she exclaimed loudly, making him stiffen and wheel around to see who dared address him by his first name.

When he spotted her, he sneered. Colette’s mother, Estelle, paled and fiddled with her yellow diamond necklace.

“Estelle,” she said with false good cheer. “Have you been by to see your first grandchild yet? She’s absolutely gorgeous.” She didn’t wait for a response since she already knew the answer and switched her attention to Cecil. “And your first great-grandchild. I’m sure you’re so proud.”

Cecil curled his lip at her. “If it isn’t Maximus’s bastard.”

“Grandpa!” Colette stepped around him, grasped Jasmine’s arm, and tugged. “Let’s go.”

Jasmine stayed right where she was. She’d been largely ignored by her sisters’ families—not that she cared about their approval or acknowledgment—but Cecil and Estelle in particular pissed her off. They were old money, but so were most of those in this room. The fact someone like Sullivan, with all his wealth and influence, was down-to-earth, polite, and friendly, made Cecil look petty and childish. It was well-known that Cecil valued pedigree, education, and wealth above everything else. The fact Colette possessed every quality he valued, yet he treated her so poorly, made her want to smack him.

“The term ‘bastard’ has another definition that you embody perfectly,” she said sweetly.

Estelle clapped a hand over her mouth as if Jasmine had uttered a foul word. It didn’t matter that he’d been the one to bring up the term to begin with, or that he’d been more direct in his attempt to insult her.

“You let it leak to the press that you want Lawrence to take over your company instead of Colette, who grew up in my father’s office so she could run both organizations.” She gave a delicate one-shoulder shrug. “I hope you do make Lawrence your CEO. We all know what a fuck-up he is. Didn’t he flunk out of Yale and Harvard?” The angry flush that spread over Cecil’s cheeks improved her mood considerably. “I guess breeding isn’t everything, is it?”

Colette tugged urgently on her arm as Cecil stepped toward her, but his murderous expression altered when a large figure pressed against her back.

“Cecil.” Roth’s tone was glacial.

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