‘Fine, well, how about Rowena Kemp? You don’t lunch with her.’
‘Are you insane? You expect the first time I speak to a member of the illustrious Kemp family to be asking for handouts?’
‘Donations.’ Rae gritted her teeth.
‘I’m not talking to anyone about something as vulgar as money, Raevenne.’
The contempt was cutting enough to slice a person in two. It was credit to Rae that she managed to hold her ground, even if she did conceal a shaky exhale of frustration.
‘It’s a charity gala. You do understand that asking for money is exactly what we’re supposed to be doing?’
‘We’re not doing anything so humiliating,’ her mother snapped. ‘So you’d better pull your finger out and sort it out yourself. I will not allow you to associate us with a failure.’
‘I didn’t ask you to associate yourself with it at all,’ Raevenne bit out. ‘In fact, I don’t remember talking to you about it even once. You just decided to throw your names in when Rafe set up the gala and you realised anyone who’s anyone in Manhattan was going to be here.’
‘Don’t whinge, Raevenne. It doesn’t suit you. And for that matter, neither does that hideous get-up you’re wearing.’
‘Oh, I don’t know if that’s fair, Mummy,’ her other sister cut in with the kind of saccharine smile that set Myles’ teeth on edge. ‘Maybe she’s deliberately trying to remind the world that she’s still that whore from the sex tape.’
He could feel the strength drain out of Rae in the way she sagged against his body, her grip dropping from his arm. He didn’t think, didn’t hesitate, he simply turned around and wrapped his arm around her to keep her upright.
‘I think we’re done here, Rae. Let’s dance.’
Then, without waiting for a response, he propelled her through the crowd and away from her jealous, vindictive family.
‘Put your arm on my shoulder,’ he muttered as soon as they were a safe distance away.
It made no sense that her pinched white face should make him feel quite so murderous.
‘Raevenne,’ he commanded, his voice low and direct. ‘Put your hand in mine and your other on my shoulder and dance. Or do you want those witches to win?’
She hesitated, then, as if on autopilot, obeyed his command.
‘Good,’ he murmured approvingly. ‘Now, dance. And smile.’
She managed the first but not the latter.
‘Is that what I look like?’ her voice finally came out, strangled and quiet. ‘Like some kind of...tart.’
‘You look beautiful,’ he growled before he could even think twice. ‘Sophisticated, smart, elegant. All the things your grotesque family can only dream of being.’
The twist of her lips could hardly be described as a smile.
‘That’s the most hypocritical compliment I’ve heard all night, and, trust me, I’ve heard a lot of them tonight. I know you hate me, but of course you’d say that. Rafe is paying your salary.’
‘That’s not why I said it.’
‘Of course it is.’
‘Look at me, Raevenne. I don’t like games and I’ve no time for people feeling sorry for themselves, so I’m only going to tell you this once. Look at me.’
And then she did.
It was like a punch to his lower gut. He wanted to erase every ugly thought she had in her head right at this moment. He wanted to make her see her hideous family for what they were and realise that she was no longer the eighteen-year-old who had made that life-changing video.
He knew his reaction made no sense. He couldn’t explain it; worse, he didn’t want to. He wasn’t sure exactly who this Raevenne Rawlstone was, or even if she could really be trusted. All he knew was that he no longer felt as though he was talking to the girl who had humiliated Rafe all those years ago.
‘Tell me what, Myles?’