Page 21 of To Curse A Knight

I stood and shook hands with many of the donors as the crowd dispersed. Alvarez strode over to me, sticking out his hand for a shake of his own.

“Marco.” I smiled coolly in greeting, steadying myself and appraising him like a viper assessing their next meal. “I wasn’t aware you were a donor.”

“I’m not.” His tone belied none of the malice he was capable of, no doubt to hide his true agenda from the eavesdropping ears all around us. “But what a great cause. Alvarez International intends to make a large donation today. It’s the least we can do.”

Over my dead body.

I would make sure the foundation didn’t take one penny of his blood money. I’d double my donation this year to oust him from that farce of philanthropy.

“How wonderful.” My smile turned from casual cool to bitter ice. “It’s about time you started contributing to this community.”

“Oh, we certainly do a lot for this community,” he said loudly. Then he stepped closer and lowered his voice. “I heard your business partner is in a bit of trouble. Have you found his replacement yet?”

How in the fuck did Alvarez know anything about Aaron? As soon as I considered the question, I knew the answer. Veronica and Vicente would have let Marco in on their little sacrificial lamb plan—how they jumped ship by throwing their son to Antonio’s wolf. It would be so satisfying when we burned their empire to the ground and killed three birds with the same stone.

Before I could respond, though, a high-pitched titter interrupted our glare-off.

“Ms. Lane, we are justthrilledto have you here!”

Marco hastily stepped back, apparently satisfied with his mediocre assertion of dominance, and melted into the crowd; the speaker, an enthusiastic middle-aged brunette by the name of Roberta shook my hand so aggressively the ligaments in my wrist groaned their frustration.

I gently removed my hand from her grip and offered a smile instead. “It’s lovely to be here, Roberta. Thank you for all you do.”

I meant it. Roberta and this foundation had provided shelter, education, and new opportunities for thousands of girls in Sequoia and its surrounding states. Girls as young as five years old were swept away from dangerous situations, their legal hearings expedited, and then they were protected within a network of heavily vetted goodhearted people.

“Thank you for all thatyou’vedone, Miss Lane.” Roberta stepped back, her slight frame wavering like a reed, tears shining in her eyes. “Have you seen the latest numbers? Four hundred girls this year—fourhundred!” Hands flew up for emphasis as tears flowed freely down her cheeks, now. “Where would they be without this organization? Who would protect them?”

Heat flushed through my cheeks. The answer to that question had haunted me every day for nine years.

“Thankfully, that’s not our reality.” I swallowed past the painful memories and smiled warmly, nodding toward Marty, who broke the somber moment by handing Roberta an envelope.

“This gift is from a new backer—a business partner of mine. I trust you will put it to good use.”

I shook her hand once more in goodbye before heading to the long hallway to the back of the room.

Aaron had generously donated a quarter of a million dollars as a part of our partnership agreement—a clause he insisted be included. Even though he had no connection to the cause, he knew it meant something to me.

I was realizing—uncomfortably so—how much I meant to the man I’d called a friend since we were children. Many times he’d handed his feelings to me on a platter through his actions, not his words, and I was too stubborn to taste them.

They now felt pungent on my tongue, the palatable flavor laced with bitter regret. The opportunity to have a person in my court—one who’d give me the world if I’d let him—was in reach, yet the damaged part of me kept pushing him away.

I didn’t want him to go away.

I needed to properly thank him once he was safely holed up at the Palace, out of Antonio’s sights.

I’d wanted to whisk him away from Club 7 immediately, but he’d reasoned with me to give him one more day of “cleaning up.” Whatever that entailed. As much as I didn’t want to leave him to his own devices while he stood at the very center of Antonio’s bullseye, I had important obligations to attend; I had to trust that he could hold his own for just twenty-four hours longer.

Kellan’s list had a particularly interesting name on it—one that luck and circumstance of today’s activities brought me directly to them, no additional planning required.

The culprit herself stood a mere ten feet away, chatting animatedly to Marco, a large phony smile plastered to her surgically plastic face as she charmed him. I kept my blood to a roiling simmer, disgusted that her brand of poison had sneaked into the haven Roberta created.

It was very rare that a woman’s name appeared across my desk. While I’d be the first to admit my crusade was primarily against the depraved men of society, women had the same capacity for evil—it simply came out in different ways.

Sandra Owens, medical director of the foundation, was abusing her position of power, delivering young children directly back into the hands of new abusers. Now that I saw the two of them together, it was such an obvious connection; I don’t know how I missed it in her background check.

Lauchlan had generously provided one of his custom micro-GPS tracking devices—the same one he’d used to track me—after I threatened to force-feed him my green smoothies for a week. I planned to fasten one to the inside of her purse and send her coordinates to the team.

She wouldn’t get the opportunity to go back to her daily routine, sans genitals, after a run-in with me—not when she continued to work with the vulnerable.

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