‘Ignore him,’ I whisper in her ear when Jade straightens. ‘I told you he was a prick.’ She smiles up at me when I drape my arm over her shoulder and place a soft kiss on the side of her head. I notice her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and again I want to throttle my father.
After seating Jade next to my mother—and away from that prick—I head to the bar to grab us both a drink.
I almost crash into my father when I return to the table. Lifting the drinks in the air, I come to an abrupt stop.
‘You brought that fucking whore here?’ he seethes. His words both surprise and worry me. Does he know who Jade is, or is it just a general comment? Maybe he’s just been associating with Clarissa for too long. She always refers to my women as whores.
‘Watch it, old man, you’re already skating on thin ice.’
‘I’m just speaking the truth. I raised you better than that.’ His comment makes me laugh.
‘Like father like son,’ I retort, side-stepping him. I need to put some distance between us, and fast. ‘And if you refer to her as that again,’ I add, looking over my shoulder, ‘I won’t be held responsible for what I do. And that’s not a threat, it’s a promise.’ Because, by Christ, it is. Jade has no control over her past. I won’t stand by and let anyone disrespect her.
‘You better turn up to the office on Monday, or so help me …’
I was thinking of returning to work Monday, but not now. I’ll go back Tuesday just to spite him.
JADE
Thankfully, Brock stayed by my side for most of the night. His mum seems really lovely and kept making conversation with me, but unfortunately I can’t say the same about his father. I tried my best not to look at him after the unfriendly greeting he gave me. The one time I did, I found him glaring at me. I gather he doesn’t approve of me dating his son.
Meeting Elaine and Maxwell Weston made me think of my own parents. I hate that I have no family to introduce Brock to. I’ve wondered about them a lot over the years, but I try not to do it often. It hurts too much. My mother died, but my father obviously didn’t want me, because he gave me up. That speaks volumes. He mustn’t have loved me, otherwise he never would’ve done it.
Why am I so unlovable?
After dinner, Brock heads back to the bar and I’m left sitting with his parents again. My heart drops when his mother says, ‘I’m just going to duck to the ladies’ room.’ Everything in me wants to go with her so I’m not left here alone with Maxwell, but that’s childish. If I can live with M for years, I’m sure I can sit at the table with this man for a few minutes.
Elaine is only a few step away from the table when Maxwell strikes. ‘You know my son is only having fun with you, right?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘My son is of good breeding, but in saying that he’s also a stereotypical male. We have certain needs, you could say. Men of our standards don’t marry trash like you, so don’t get too comfortable. He’ll throw you aside when he’s had his fill, mark my words.’
I gasp at the harshness of his words, before turning away from him. Hopefully that will be enough to make him leave me alone. Briefly clenching my eyes shut, I fight back tears. I won’t give this man the satisfaction of seeing me cry.
His words swim around in my head. He’s right, Brock does deserve better than me. But I already knew that. It doesn’t seem to lessen the sting though. I’d be foolish to think I was anything more than a good time to Brock. A fool is exactly what I’ve been. I truly believed he cared.
My eyes seek out Brock, and that’s when I see him standing at the bar talking to a tall, beautiful blonde. She’s a woman of good breeding. A lump rises to my throat when I see her affectionately rub her hand down Brock’s arm as she smiles at something he’s said. She turns her head slightly to look in my direction. When our eyes meet, her lips curve up. It’s not a pleasant smile; smug would be the best way to describe it. I’d like to march over there and tell her to get her hands off my man, but I can’t do that, because truth is, he’s not mine. He’ll never be mine.
Coming here tonight was a huge mistake.
I don’t belong with these people. All the money M spent making me so refined over the years was a waste. My training is just a mask to hide the real me. The scum, as she so rightly put it. The girl nobody has ever wanted, or loved.
Rising from my seat, I move hastily across the room. Tears rise to my eyes, but I manage to contain them. Breaking down in front of these people is the last thing I want to do. I’m already humiliated enough.