Page 41 of Betrayal

He accepted the beer from the returning waiter before answering.“I might not agree with your reasoning.”

“Ghosts won’t approach you with me hanging around.”She pressed a finger to his lips, the bracelet slipping down her arm.He nibbled, surprising her.“Plus, the dress won’t be a proper experiment if you’re standing at my shoulder looking like a dog guarding a bone.”

“What if I don’t want to talk to ghosts anymore?”

“You said it’s why we came.You should have explained that to me.How long do you need?”she asked.

“An hour’s as much as I can stomach.”

“I’ll find you in an hour.”

Anna spun on her heel and headed toward a couple standing near the open patio doors.Marygai’s generation, but so were most of the guests, at least the male guests.Hunter was the youngest man present.Anna had feared she might be the trophy tonight, but from Marygai’s welcome, Hunter was probably right.He was supposed to be tonight’s trophy?

What was the game?

Anna moved from group to group, a smile fixed on her face.She introduced herself, answered questions about her work, how she’d met Hunter and how long she’d known him—long enough to want to know him better.She offered the last with a shy smile to contrast with her late-eighteenth-century naughty up-thrust bustier.

Tonight’s neckline was marginally lower than the one she’d worn when she’d met Hunter but was more secure.It also separated the lechers from the men it might be interesting to get to know with no effort on her part.

Following a waiter with an empty tray, she found herself in the kitchen.Sleekly old-fashioned wooden cupboards, granite benchtops and top-of-the-line appliances.She coveted the clear glass roof—a morning sky with her first cup of tea was an indulgence she’d happily include in her routine.The caterers were skilled and near invisible.

“Where can I get a dress like that?”a soft voice whispered, while offering her a tray of tiny crab pastries.The waitress was in spotless black and white, but her eyes twinkled.

“I borrowed this from a friend,” Anna confessed.“She bought it online.”

“It’s fabulous.I want one.”

“Give me your number, and I’ll send you the site.”

“I’m not supposed to fraternize,” the woman said sadly, offering her a serviette instead.

“My name’s Anna, and I have an incredible memory for numbers.”

The waitress murmured a number.Anna repeated it and turned away.Discreetly, she checked her phone, noting the time and entering the waitress’s number.Returning to the main room a few moments later, she scanned the crowd.

No Hunter.

That left the garden, and Anna spotted him in a corner, his back to her.His body language screamed discomfort, while the man facing him stood legs braced, crowding the space.A frisson of apprehension skated down Anna’s spine.The older man looked familiar.Not because of any particular resemblance to Hunter.Although given the tension, the man was probably his father.Another person whose discontent had ravaged his features.

Anna recognised him, an older version but the same man; a man whose ego arrived ten feet before him.For a second, she froze, before forcing herself to move forward.Turning tail and running wasn’t an option.

“Hunter, can you take me home, please?”Anna slipped her hand into the crook of Hunter’s elbow, Helen’s bracelet falling over her wrist.She needed the physical connection to ground her, to enable her to manufacture an apologetic smile.“I’m sorry, but my head’s killing me.”

“Of course.”He turned back to the older man.“If you’ll excuse us.”

“Introduce me,” the man commanded.

“Nick Richardson, Anna Turner.”

“You can do better than that.I’m Hunter’s father.”

“Hello.”Anna kept her smile in place with an effort.

Her heart, no, her whole body roared in protest.

I will not give this man the power of seeing me upset.

“Sorry.I can’t stay.”

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