Page 39 of Thorns of Malice

Ivy leans closer. "Are you married?"

She scoffs. "No, marriage is for the birds. Besides, how much fun would I be able to have if I were married?" She winks and takes a large sip of champagne.

Ivy laughs.

My heart aches at the sound. I've missed that laugh.

Ivy lowers her voice, putting her hand on Lilly's arm. "So, what are you doing for fun?"

Lilly's lips twitch. "Anything that pisses my father off."

Ivy bites her lip, studying Lilly, then commands, "Tell me more about what that entails."

Lilly leans into her ear and whispers something I can't hear.

Ivy's face turns red, and she inhales sharply, then stares at Lilly.

I hate the look they exchange.

Avery must too because she shoves her arm over Lilly and puts her hand on Ivy's thigh. "Ivy, how have you liked Georgia?"

Lilly leans back in her chair.

Ivy shrugs. "It's fine. Nothing special."

"Well, you're there," Avery says, but it's not with her normal elegant charm. She's too drunk.

"Don't embarrass yourself," I scold.

Avery shoots daggers at me with her glare, snarling, "Shut up, Dax."

Somebody gets on stage, taps on the microphone, and says, "If you'd all take your seats, please."

The room quiets down. "Our MC tonight will be Dean Bramwell, but we'll serve dinner now. After we're done, get out those checkbooks for our annual live auction. Enjoy yourselves," the no-name says from the stage.

A filet mignon and lobster tail get placed in front of Ivy, Lilly, Avery, and then the rest of us.

The server comes up to me. "Mr. Carrington, are your other guests late?"

"No."

"Okay," the server replies. He picks up the other covered plates, sets them on his tray, and takes them away.

Bobby picks up his fork and knife and cuts a piece of meat. "I'm freaking starving."

I wonder how he can eat at a time like this, knowing one of his rape victims is two seats over.

Does he not realize she's here for revenge?

No, he underestimates her.

Dyer pulls out the chair next to him. "Ivy, why don't you come sit next to me?"

"She's talking to the ladies. Leave her alone," I warn.

Ivy turns toward Dyer, licks her whore-red lips, and coos, "I haven't seen the girls in so long. I'll be with you later tonight. Don't worry." She pins a seductive look on him, and I curl my fist at my side.

"What's wrong, Dax?" Bobby mocks, tapping my knuckles.

---