The Founders' Table dinner was candles and silver and a long line of hard faces.
I sat in the middle with my water glass and a smile I had practiced.
Bianca: You can eat, Lacey. It's a dinner, not a test.
Gavin stood and tapped his glass. The whole room went quiet for him.
Gavin: I want to thank someone tonight. She knows who she is.
My face went hot. What was he doing?
Gavin: Lacey was my practice wife. Two years of practice, and now I'm ready for the real thing.
Nobody said a word. Then a small laugh, then another.
It rolled down the table like spilled wine, and everyone drank it.
Gavin: Great hands with frosting. Ice cold in bed. You all get the picture.
I looked at my plate. I wanted to slide under it and stay there.
Bianca: I'm Bianca. His fiancée. And I promise I'm warm at home.
She crossed to his chair and kissed him while the room clapped.
My ears rang. Every fork sounded like a clock ticking.
I stood up too fast. My chair scraped the floor.
I walked for the door and told myself not to look at anyone.
Gavin: Practice wife doesn't get to storm out.
His hand closed around my wrist as I passed him, fast and hard.
He turned it. The skin pinched and burned under his thumb.
Gavin: Say one word about tonight and no kitchen in this town will take your jars.
Gavin: I'll ruin you quiet. You won't even know where it came from.
I believed him. He pressed until my fingers went numb.
When he let go, I had four red marks and a thin line of blood.
I got the door open myself. Nobody at that table got up.
The lot behind the club was dark and cold, and I had no plan.
Then I saw Gavin's car. The door was open and the light inside was on.
Bianca: Come here. You're not done celebrating.
She was on his lap with her dress up at the thigh. He pulled her mouth down to his.
The car rocked on its wheels. I heard the wet sound of the kiss.
Gavin: Tomorrow you get the ring. Tonight you get me.
His hand slid up her back, under the green silk, and she laughed into his mouth.
My stomach turned. I thought I'd be sick on the good gravel.
Barrett: Lacey.
His voice came from behind me, low and flat. I spun around.
Every person at that table had laughed. This man had not.
He put his coat over my shoulders. It smelled like wool and clean air.
Barrett: You're not driving home with a bleeding wrist.
I looked down. The marks were already turning purple.
Lacey: Why are you being kind to me?
Barrett: I don't like people laughing at my table. Especially not at you.
Especially not at you. Like I was somebody worth the trouble.
Barrett: Walk back in with me. Head up. Let them see you.
My wrist was red and my face was hot. But his coat was warm.
I put my hand on his arm before I could lose my nerve.
Why would a man with that much power want me? I had no answer yet.
I only knew I was done being a joke on the gravel.
Not tonight. Not in his coat.