Page 64 of Mind Maze

“Dr. Alexander Huxley Jr.,” Dr. Portman offers, hooking a thumb Doc Junior’s way. “To avoid confusion, everyone calls him Doc Junior.”

Oh.

I can tell Caius is equally thrown off because he doesn’t have anything to say to that. Theo materializes close by, his loyalty to his brother shining brightly. Kaitlyn is beside Orion, holding his hand and pointing at all the pretty women and their dresses. At least she’s out of the line of fire in case Caius decides to whip his cock out and piss all over me in front of these guys.

“Sorry if we were rude,” I say to Doc Junior. “We didn’t know.”

Doc Junior grins. “Nah, forget about it. We’re more of the behind-the-scenes kind of guys. Dad’s the one who likes the spotlight.”

“Caius Crowne,” Caius says, finally extending his hand to shake. “This is my girlfriend, Romy Langston.”

Both men shake hands with Caius, but rather than being intimidated by our well-known family names, they don’t appear to be surprised by that information.

“Unlike you,” Doc Junior says, wagging a finger dangerously close to Caius’s nose, “we did our homework. We know whoyouare.”

Caius is tense and his fingers bite into my waist. I can tell he’s unnerved by these guys, but I’m not feeling any weird vibes. They’re friendly enough. And while Doc Junior playfully hit on me, I don’t think he was being serious. His friend, however, keeps sneaking peeks at me. While it’s flattering, I wish he’d cut it out. Caius doesn’t play nicely with others.

“We should get going anyway,” Doc Junior says. “Dad wants us close by when he makes his speech in a bit. I just couldn’t help meeting the prettiest girl in the room.”

I laugh at his silliness and nudge Caius with my elbow in hopes he’ll calm down.

“Save me a dance later,” Dr. Portman says, wagging his auburn eyebrows at me. “I might be able to sweep you right off your feet before the scary guy notices.”

The scary guy in question huffs in frustration.

“Bye,” I say in exaggeration, unable to stop grinning.

When they’re gone, I turn into Caius’s arms. His icy gaze melts as his eyes drink in my features.

“There’s the man I like.” I stand on my toes to plant a quick kiss on his lips. “While most women might like when their man goes all feral, I prefer you all buttoned up and behaving.”

His hands grab my ass and he squeezes. “I definitely don’t feel like behaving, love.” He rests his forehead on mine. “Take that dance with Dr. Doofus and you’ll see the beast come out.”

Okay, so maybe Idolike his feral side too…

Dr. Huxley, or President Huxley, is every bit the man I’ve seen on television. His bright white smile is perfectly affixed at all times. He’s probably around Dad and Orion’s age but is a lot warmer than either of them put together. His eyes have permanent crinkles at the corners from his constant grinning.

And yet…

There’s something peculiar about him.

At least with Dad, I know his emotions. Or lack thereof. It’s never a mystery as to what he’s thinking or feeling. This guy, though, is a master showman. James Clayton has nothing on this man’s acting skills.

Maybe you’re just paranoid, Romy.

At one time, I’d have thought that. I’d have chalked it up to my obsessive nature rearing its ugly head and making up stories for me to believe.

But those stories ended up being true.

When I should’ve listened to my gut, I ignored it because people I loved told me to. They even added mountains of therapy and drugs on top to make sure that gut instinct was good and dulled.

Now that my senses are on full alert, I scrutinize every detail of our beloved president. His son, Doc Junior, exuded real charm. Whatever Huxley is doing up on stage, it’s not real.

I glance around to see if anyone else buys this crap. To my utter shock, they do. Men, women, and the handful of children at the event, are all mesmerized by his gracious speech thanking everyone for attending. Even one of the secret servicemen has given up scanning the ballroom to gaze adoringly at this man.

How can they not see through his deception?

There you go, girl, making up stories again.

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