Page 23 of The Betrayer
Chapter 10
Will
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STEFFANIE DIDN’T IMMEDIATELYreply to Paul’s demand that she leave. Her gaze darted between him and me, her blue eyes large, confused, and even a bit frightened.
“Paul, I invited her here—” I started.
“I don’t care.” My son’s eyes blazed, the green-gold of the hazel almost glowing with anger.
My son’s surprise attack caught me off guard. I couldn’t understand his anger. The gala seemed to have gone off without a hitch, and the guests looked like they were enjoying themselves, which was a difficult state to achieve. Even the auction had gone well, bringing in a record amount for the museum if I’d overheard a staff member correctly.
I’d been a little distracted at the time.
“What is your problem?” I asked, stepping between Paul and Steffanie and dropping my voice to a heated whisper.
I wasn’t sure I’d seen my son so angry before. Paul had always been serious and steady, maybe even cold, when it came to the necessary difficulties of running a business. But I had rarely seen anger and nothing at this level.
“You and this kid are my problems,” Paul hissed, stepping even closer so his face was close to mine.
“You’re being rude. Apologize to Steffanie,” I said, my tone a sharp rebuke. It was a tone I hadn’t used since Paul was a kid. If he was going to act like a child, I would treat him like one.
Somehow, my words only served to make him angrier. I could see it in the way his shoulders and jaw clenched, and his fingers curled into the palms of his hands.
“I want her out of here this second.” He turned his piercing gaze to Steffanie. “If you don’t leave now, I will have you escorted out.”
Steffanie had obviously had enough because she backed up several steps, her cheeks bright red and her eyes shimmering, before she turned and ran, disappearing into the crowd. The last thing I saw of her was the top of her head as she bolted toward the doors.
I turned back to Paul, resisting the urge to shove him as the vision of the night I could have had faded the further Steffanie ran.
“What is wrong with you?” I demanded, using the voice I had used to stop arguments in their tracks when he was a teenager.
But Paul wasn’t a teenager anymore, and he made it very clear he wasn’t about to back down. Instead, he took another step toward me. “What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? I cannot believe you would bring someone like that here.”
“Someone like what?” I felt offended on Steffanie’s behalf. She might not have been a blue blood like the gala’s attendees, and maybe she would never win an award for her IQ, but she seemed nice enough. “A sweet kid who wasn’t harming anyone?”
“You said it yourself—she was a kid.” Paul threw his hands up.
