Page 72 of Compulsion

I close my eyes and struggle to master the anxiety that rises up my throat like a choking vine. I should’ve known that she would be here; she was simply so late that she missed the ceremony.

She won’t miss the opportunity to enjoy a night of gossip and an open bar.

I look into Dane’s eyes and manage to arrange my features into my sunny smile before I turn to face her.

“Hi, Mama.”

“Aw, sweetie,” she practically coos, drawing me in for a hug. We barely make contact. Then she places her hands on my shoulders, and her pale blue eyes scour my face. “Your lipstick is smudged.”

The criticism about my appearance comes under the guise of concern. It’s all carefully calculated to set me off-balance at the outset so that she can politely eviscerate me.

“I think that’s my fault,” Dane says.

I blink up at him, surprised at his genial tone. He fixes my mother with a broad smile and reaches out to shake her hand.

“I’m Dane. Abigail is here with me.”

Mama’s eyes go wide. “Oh!” she exclaims. “I just love your accent. You must be Dr. Graham, Meadows’ associate.”

He nods, and it’s almost a formal half-bow. I’ve noticed his imperious air many times, and the man standing beside me is every inch the perfect prince.

“I can see my reputation precedes me,” he remarks.

She waves her hand, as though to dismiss any concern. “All good things, don’t you worry, Dr. Dane.”

“Just Dane is fine,” he assures her.

I’m staring at them like they’re both alien creatures. They’re so natural together, their genteel exchange perfectly polite and impeccably charming.

“Abby.” My father’s voice is gruffer on my name than my mother’s. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

He steps up beside her, joining our nightmarish little circle.

And, oh god, my Uncle Jeffrey is here too.

“What a happy occasion to see your daughter,” Dane says, all warmth despite the fact that it’s almost a command. As though he can will my family to be happy to see me.

“Oh yeah, it’s always a pleasure to see our little Abby.” Uncle Jeffrey grins at me, and I suppress a cringe.

Dane angles his body slightly in front of mine. “I’m sorry, we haven’t met.” He extends his hand toward my uncle. “I’m Dane Graham.”

“Jeffrey Carpenter,” he replies, squeezing Dane’s hand in his usual macho style. “I’m Peggy’s brother.” He tips his head in my mom’s direction. “But I’m more like a second father to little Abby, if you don’t mind me saying.” He glances at my dad, who nods absently. “We all spent a lot of time together when she was growing up. I live at Elysium with the family.”

“Elysium?” Dane asks, managing to sound almost bored with a single, drawled word.

My mother’s chest swells with pride. “Our plantation. It’s just down the road, Dr. Dane. You’ll have to come visit us sometime.”

“I’ll have to see what works for Abigail,” he equivocates. “We’re very busy in Charleston at the moment.”

“Oh?” Mama’s eyes fix on me, a shark sensing blood in the water. For two years, I’ve denied her any information about my life. Now, she’s going to find some way to hurt me, a piece of information she can weaponize to punish me for my defiance. “What have you been so busy with, honey? Did you open that gallery yet?”

I try to ignore the stinging slash to my heart.

One of my final retorts to her was that I didn’t need her money, and I’d find a way to open my own gallery one day.

Instead, I have a stall at the market and sell my paintings to tourists.

I lift my chin. “Not yet.”

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