Page 33 of Trust in the Fallen

“So you mentioned your son is getting married, has a date been set?” I ask, dragging my attention back to James and Jason. Men like them won’t allow a question like this to be directed at Leighton, and I don’t want to put that kind of pressure on her right now when we’ve already bombarded her.

“We’re thinking about the summer,” Jason forces out begrudgingly, doing nothing to mask the loathing in his voice. I doubt his father knows he was kicked out of one of our establishments and barred for life, and if he does, I’m certain he didn’t get the real reason.

Elias nods, his face completely passive as if he doesn’t care that the woman we’ve become obsessed with thinks she’s marrying this asshat. But we’ve already agreed there’s no way in hell this is happening. “Such a nice time of year in the city.” He turns to Leighton, and her eyes widen under his scrutiny. “I’m sure you’ll make a beautiful bride, Leighton.”

A deep blush covers her cheeks, and she looks away. “Thank you.”

“She’ll need to lose a few pounds before we go dress shopping, though, won’t you, honey?” The middle-aged woman who has had entirely too much Botox says as she approaches, and I recognize her immediately as Leighton’s mother.

Margaret Chalmers is a career socialite. She knows everyone who’s worth knowing in the city, but we’ve never had the displeasure of meeting her. Her long blonde hair is curled down her back and her makeup a little too dark for her petite features. Where her daughter looks healthy with curves in all the right places, her mother is stick thin without an ounce of fat on her. She’s closer to our ages than her daughter is, but despite her best efforts, her age is catching up with her.

I open my mouth to defend our angel, to tell her mother that she’s perfect just the way she is, and any man should count his lucky fucking stars that she even looks in his direction, but Elias kicks me under the table, clearly sensing my unease about the insults that have just so easily flown from her mother’s mouth.

“I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure.” Her gaze settles on me, perusing the lines of my forearms without even pretending to hide it. This woman is a fucking piranha. How could she possibly have given birth to Leighton? “I’m Margaret Chalmers. And you are?”

I open my mouth to respond, but James quickly steps in to do the introductions. Ever the gracious host. “This is Wyatt Keller and Elias Ford. They own some very successful businesses downtown.”

Her eyes light up, as if our success is something she may be able to get some kind of gain from. I wonder how Elias would feel if we put Margaret on the hit list immediately after Jason. Something to consider at the very least.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE

LEIGHTON

After forty minutes of mind-numbing chatter I finally see my opportunity to excuse myself and take it without hesitation. Jason won’t be pleased later, but I don’t care right now.

I need to take a breath away from my condescending mother, my fiancé’s vice grip on my thigh which I’m positive has bruised, and the gazes of the two men I thought would be nothing but a dream for the rest of my life burning into my flesh.

I can’t work out what they’re doing here. They don’t seem to have any business dealings with James, and they haven’t left the table once to mingle, so why the heck are they here? The hopeful part of my heart flutters to life. Are they here for me? Did they track me down? Did they orchestrate sitting at the same table so they could be close to me?

I shake my head as I walk down the corridor to the bathroom. That’s ridiculous. There’s no way they would go out of their way to find me, not with how I left. Tonight is just a torturous extension of our limited time together before I marry Jason.

The thought has a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. I don’t want to be Mrs. Jason Collins. I don’t want to be the mother of his children. I don’t want this life that’s been set out for me, and each second Wyatt and Elias are nearby is another second closer I am to breaking. Because I don’t have a say in the matter. I never did.

It was obviously too much to ask for the bathroom to be empty because when I push the door open, three women are touching up their lipstick in the mirror, and two of the five stalls have their doors closed.

Perfect.

I hurry into one of the free stalls and lean against the door before allowing my eyes to fall closed. I only have a short window of reprieve before Jason will come looking for me and no doubt be mad that I left at all. At the last one of these things I ended up with a UTI because he wouldn’t let me leave his side to use the bathroom all night, and I think the only reason I was able to sneak off tonight is because he’s so off-kilter due to the men sitting across from us. Small mercies I suppose.

By the time I do my business, touch up my makeup, and make it back to the hallway, my stomach is heavy with unease. There isn’t one part of me that wants to go back to that table, not when I’m constantly reminded of everything I can never have.

The hallway is empty when I step into it, and I take a few moments to enjoy the quiet. I spend most of my life in silence, only speaking or being spoken to when Jason is home or my mother decides she has something to insult me about, and perhaps I should loathe it for that reason, but right now I crave it.

There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to be at home right now in dead silence, just my own demons playing on loop in my mind.

I only make it a few steps toward the ballroom when a pair of arms wrap around me and pull me into a cool, dark room. A scream gurgles at the back of my throat, but a firm hand secures over my mouth before I can let it out.

And just when I thought tonight couldn’t get any worse.

It takes me a few moments to realize I’m pressed between two bodies, and what I think may be a mop. A cleaning closet. Perfect.

“It’s just us, angel,” Wyatt’s cool voice whispers across my cheek, his hands tugging me back against his body, and I let out a breath of relief. They won’t hurt me…will they? “I’m going to remove my hand, but you have to promise not to scream.”

I nod before I’ve even made my mind up. I’m obviously not going to tell them if I’m planning on screaming anyway, so there’s not much to think about.

The hand lifts from my mouth as promised, and I let out a breath as I look up Elias’s body in front of me. It’s too dark in here to really see him, but I’d be able to tell it was him in the pitch black.

Wyatt’s hands drop to my waist and hold me tight against him, and I’m ashamed to admit I can breathe for the first time since I climbed out of bed from between them last weekend.

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