Page 58 of Quake
I nodded. “Yes. Slattery publish fiction mostly. Everything from romance to—”
“And you’re an assistant?” he interrupted, his tone condescending.
Caleb stiffened beside me, and I felt my heart take a punch. Or at least it felt like it.
“Yes. Publishing is a competitive industry. You have to get in on the ground floor however you’re able.”
“And how old are you?”
“Dad,” Caleb hissed, but he only glared at his son before turning back to me.
“Twenty-eight,” I replied, my skin beginning to prickle. I was being grilled, and I’d only just walked through the door. Caleb was right. I did need the strong stuff. My vodka martini arrived not a moment too soon, and I downed a mouthful, the alcohol burning all the way down.
“It’s a little old to still be an assistant,” Mrs. Carmichael quipped, gesturing to George for a refill.
“I… ah…” I stuttered, not knowing how to answer the question to their liking without revealing too much of my past.
With everything happening between Caleb and I so fast and with the chaos surrounding the days manning the booth at the expo, I hadn’t confronted how I was going to confide in him. I was going to tell him about Mel…but not just yet. When things calmed down.
“She’s brilliant at her job,” Caleb said, narrowing his eyes in a clear warning. “Age has nothing to do with it. She’s dedicated, and I have no doubt she’ll rise fast.”
Mr. Carmichael grunted. “So good she shirked off an important commitment to be here of all places.”
Caleb’s mouth fell open. “Dad. Seriously?”
“Some things are more important than work,” I said, resisting the urge to run. My throat tightened slightly, but I swallowed hard before continuing. “One can fight their entire life for their profession only to look back and see all the things they left behind. Sometimes, the choice is easy.”
Vincent Carmichael stared at me, his glass poised halfway between the coaster and his lips. Whatever he thought about my declaration was beyond me. That man was harder to read than a brick wall. Knowing he was a world champion boxer, I understood that it wasn’t in his nature to show weakness even if he felt it or not. That tidbit I’d learned from Caleb in one of our many self-defense lessons.
A cough from the entrance to the dining room broke the silence, and we turned to see a maid lingering.
“Dinner is ready,” she declared meekly.
Lilly Carmichael rose to her feet rather gracefully for a woman who’d downed three drinks in the space of ten minutes. “Thank you, Mary. We’ll be right in.”
Mr. Carmichael tore his gaze from mine, and I glanced at Caleb, my chest feeling tight.
“Is there someplace I can wash up?” I asked him, desperate for some breathing room.
His hand found mine and squeezed. “You okay?”
I nodded, barely able to hold onto the flood of tears that had risen without warning. “Yeah. I just need a minute.”
“Through here, and the second door to the left,” he said. “Do you want me to wait?”
“No. I’m fine, really.”
I waited until everyone had turned before disappearing in the other direction. I found the powder room without much trouble and immediately closed myself inside. Leaning against the basin, I took a few deep breaths. Caleb wasn’t wrong when he said his parents were intense. The air was thick with expectations, and I wasn’t fool enough to think I was exempt from them. The whole dinner felt like an attempt to size me up and see if I was good breeding stock, not to simply enjoy my company.
To think I’d missed the Gala for this.
Glancing up at my reflection, I took in my flushed cheeks and frightened eyes and scowled. They were a pair of bullies, plain and simple. Caleb and I were stronger together. We were great, in fact. He’d said so himself. His parents’ opinion of me wouldn’t sway his.
Gathering my wits, I pushed out of the powder room, ready to face however many courses this painful dinner was and get the hell out of there.
“Juliette.”
My heart leapt as I turned to find Vincent Carmichael standing a few paces away. Waiting for me, obviously.How nice of him.
