Escorting the Billionaire #3(29)

 

“Hello, James,” she said. “Audrey.”

 

Audrey nodded at her and looked away, and I settled in for what was going to be an excruciatingly long multiple-course dinner.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Have another drink,” I said to Audrey in a low voice, just before dessert was served. “You’re about to need it.”

 

“Yes, sir,” she said, motioning to the waiter. My parents had been civil during dinner, but little else. My mother had asked me to no avail about several business ventures. After finally giving up, she’d turned to my father to discuss their various upcoming social obligations.

 

After Audrey got her drink and we finished dessert, I stood abruptly. “Mother, we need to speak with you,” I said. “Follow me.” Both Audrey and my mother obediently followed me out to the almost empty lobby, where we grabbed a table near the fireplace.

 

“What’s this about?” Celia asked. She gave Audrey a quick look.

 

“James can speak for himself,” Audrey mumbled, still not looking at my mother. She’d barely said a word all through dinner, and now she looked tense and small against the enormous chair she was seated in.

 

I knocked back the rest of my bourbon and sat forward in my seat. “I wanted you to know something, Mother. Audrey told me last night about the conversation she’d had with you—about her brother and the fact that you called her mom. I want you to know that I’ll be handling those issues going forward.”

 

What looked like lasers shot out of Celia’s eyes at Audrey. “I thought I told you to keep that between us, dear. I’d love to say I’m surprised, but…” She turned back to me. “I want you to know I was trying to protect you. From this girl and her lies. What else do you have to say, James?”

 

I gripped my glass so hard I was surprised it didn’t shatter in my hand. “Audrey also told me about her… suspicions. About the death of Danielle, my high school girlfriend.”

 

My mother watched my face. As always, hers gave nothing away. “Audrey told me the same thing. She said she believed I was involved somehow.”

 

“That’s what she’s claiming.” I saw Audrey look at me briefly, confused. My head was pounding. “You know I have some serious issues with you, Mother. But I don’t believe you’re capable of something that horrific. And I don’t believe it. So I want you to know, Audrey and I are heading home tonight. And this will be the last time we see each other. I will take care of her and her family. I’ll make sure that nothing about our relationship or her accusations about Danielle’s death ever come out.”

 

I took a deep breath. “Because although I believed she had feelings for me, I know now the truth: that she’s a grifting, blackmailing whore. Just like her mother.”

 

“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, dear,” my mother said, looking triumphant. “I’ve tried to tell you that a thousand times.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Audrey didn’t say a word to me on the way back to the room. I didn’t say anything, either. We could be followed or overheard, and I wasn’t going to risk it.

 

Her face was still pale when we went back inside, her mouth set in a grim line. “I’m calling the valet to come and get us,” I said. “Pack your things. Pack mine, too, if you can stand to.”

 

She looked up at me, and I could see the wounded look on her face.

 

“Audrey,” I started. “Let’s wait to talk it through—let’s get out of here while that performance is still fresh in my mother’s mind. But you know.”

 

“Know what?” she asked, slamming though the house and grabbing our stuff.

 

“That I love you. And that I’m sorry about the ugly things I just said.” I went and wrapped my arms around her, pressing the full length of my body against hers. She wriggled against me, as if she were trying to get away. I leaned down and looked at her. “My mother isn’t easily fooled, Audrey. I had to make that seem real. She has to believe that we’re through and that you aren’t a threat to her. So even though I hurt you, I did it to keep you safe. That’s the only thing that matters to me.”

 

She looked up at me. “Tell me you didn’t mean it. Not a word.”

 

“I didn’t mean a word of it.” I smoothed the hair back from her forehead and kissed her gently. “You know I didn’t.”

 

“It still hurt. It made me feel sick to hear it,” she said.