Page 53 of Keep Me Never
Maybe I should encourage her to go with him and?—
“It’s on the weekend,” Prescott finishes.
Oh, hell no.
My brows snap together so fast, there is no hiding my annoyance.
“Then I most definitely can’t go.” Her baby blues slide my way, a smile blooming on her lips. “My Saturdays are booked, too.”
Do not smirk in victory. You’ve won nothing and this means nothing.
I can feel the others staring at me now, too, so I give her one more second of my attention, wondering if she can see how much I like that answer. A moment later, I casually meet their gazes. “Told you. My loyal little fan.”
Shit. My smirk slipped free, and did I just saymyin front of everyone?
Unease starts to spike, but when I look over at Paige, I decide I don’t care.
Her lips seem to have somehow stretched even higher. Lifting her shoulder, she turns to Prescott. “Yeah, sorry,” she says, sounding the least bit sorry.
Hearing that should not feel as good as it does.
Prescott chuckles, completely unfazed, and I kind of hate that. “That’s all right. To be honest, I’m only going because your grandfather here kindly offered me his seat, saying if I was already planning to attend, there was no need for him to go, too.”
“Oh, stop it.” Mr. Randolph swipes a hand in dismissal. “You know Mariam would not be pleased if you didn’t show up, but I won’t lie and say I’m not happy you’ll be there to deliver the check on the company’s behalf.” Her grandfather chuckles, dabbing at the corner of his mouth before picking up his coffee. “I can appreciate that others appreciate the arts, but I’m more of a contract-and-spreadsheets man myself.”
“Those two things aren’t even in the same category.” His sidekick grins.
“Exactly.” Mr. Randolph smirks at the man, but my mind is stuck on one word he threw in there, and when I move my eyes to Paige, I know she caught it too.
“Arts?” she asks curiously.
I take another drink of water to busy my hands, trying not to watch the two as closely as my eyes seem to want to. I celebrated too quickly.
Moment of good ends; moment of bad rushes in for the win.
My jaw clenches. I should get up and go, remove myself from this, but I can’t seem to make myself stand.
“The fundraiser is for my mother’s charity,” Prescott tells her proudly. “It’s a scholarship program for youth in the arts, and we’ll get to see several of the last recipients perform tonight.”
My gut grows heavy. It’s as if he plucked words directly from the Paige handbook.
Charity. Performance. Children.
That is the entire idea behind what she intends to make her life’s work, is it not?
A dance studio for the underprivileged, bringing the arts to youth centers and young survivors who need an outlet to focus on at little to no cost.
My palms start to sweat, so I swipe them on my pants.
I can see her intrigue, and a shadow of disappointment falls over me because, after all that, now Paige wants to go.
Fuck.
“So I realize now, I should have given you all the details right away,” Prescott begins, an easy smile on his annoying, handsome face. “But the fundraiser is actually on Sunday evening, not Saturday. It’s early and local to you, so I can have you back at your dorm before eight, sooner if you want to skip the entertainment, though it might be the best part of the evening. I just have to show up, deliver the check on behalf of R.L., and then technically, I’m free to do whatever you might like after that.”
And what the fuck mightyoulike after that, my guy?
My gaze snaps to her grandfather. His employee is really just going to proposition her like that, in front of his boss? Her grandfather.
