Page 105 of Unforgettable
She jutted out her chin. “Your father deserves what’s coming to him.”
Don’t make a scene, Haven. Remember your manners.
As a senator’s daughter, I had been taught to keep my mouth shut or, if push came to shove, to divert whatever the topic was that could cause trouble—act normal, polite, confident, and go about my business like nothing had happened.
Sandra, who was dressed in an elegant strapless gown, surveyed the crowd, her dark gaze alight with pleasure.
I wished I was that happy or excited to be there. In part, I was because Ryker was there. I hadn’t seen the man since he had whisked me away to Erik’s house. Many times during the last week, I’d almost gotten in my car and shown up on his doorstep. But I couldn’t risk anyone seeing me or putting Ryker in the spotlight in the event that Tabitha or Beverly was around.
Yet as I sat next to Beverly, tense and a second away from making a scene, I realized I shouldn’t have come. My father had advised me to stay home. But I wasn’t the type to back out on my commitments. I’d also wanted to confront the Sims sisters after the event. But Beverly was making it hard to do anything other than rip out her blond hair strand by strand.
“No reaction,” she whispered, looking straight ahead.
I smiled, realizing that she was trying to get me to make a scene. I wasn’t going to stoop to her level.
Sandra cleared her throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome.”
“After tonight,” Beverly whispered, “Ryker James will not be yours.”
“Pathetic,” I mumbled.
“I hope you have your checkbooks ready,” Sandra continued. “Because we have twenty beautiful and handsome men and women who have graciously offered up dinner with one of you.”
Shouts and whistles ensued.
“My name is Sandra, and I’m head of the Chelsea House for Battered Women. I want to thank you for being here. The money we raise tonight will aid us in our efforts to help those women in need. So let the bidding begin.”
Sandra waved at the ten football players.
They lined up on the side and at the foot of the makeshift stage. Five players I didn’t know were slotted to go first, followed by Ajax, Van, Erik, Lucas, and Ryker. Each of them was dressed in a tuxedo, handsome, grinning, and ready to see which woman in the room won a date with him. Well, except for Ryker. That cocky demeanor he usually exuded wasn’t showing that night. Instead, he seemed out of sorts. I knew he had been worried about me. Or maybe he could tell that I was ready to do something drastic with Beverly next to me.
Lucas said something to him.
I glanced behind me to see if I could spot Vicki, but I didn’t have to look far. She was right behind me.
She gripped my shoulder. “I’m right here.”
I tapped her hand twice, silently saying thank you. Then I turned my attention back to Ryker, who was fixated on me again.
I smiled, releasing some of the pent-up madness I had coursing through my veins. He looked handsome in his tux. His black hair was slicked back, he was clean-shaven, and those gray eyes sparkled only for me.
“What’s wrong?” he mouthed.
Everything.When I’d walked around the corner and laid eyes on him, those pesky nerves that had spun a web inside me, quieted. I’d been a mess. The news had broken about thirty minutes before I was scheduled to leave. The reporters had descended on my father’s estate, and it had been hard to get around them.
Thankfully, my dad had had two security guards escort me to the Marriott. They’d barreled through the melee without too much trouble.
Despite the reporters, I was worried about my father. The election was in ten days, and the news of the affair wasn’t going to help him. Not only that, my father still hadn’t told me what else Lorna might have on him, but that worry I’d seen on him during our talk the other night had diminished. Yet Beverly’s statement, “Wait ’til you hear what else we have in store,” gave me a chill.
Sure, my father was in charge of his own actions and had to atone for his mistakes. But even though we had a strained relationship, I didn’t want to see him burn.
Sandra slammed a gavel down on the podium. “Sold to number five.”
A lady squealed.
I turned to see the identity of the lucky lady who had purchased a date with the first guy in line.
The brunette who’d won seemed thrilled.
