She glanced back. “Bennett?”
“There she is.”
Hadley looked down. Kitty Wentworth wore an elegant, dove-gray dress, with beading that shimmered under the lights. She was holding the arm of her husband. It didn’t look like a marriage in trouble to Hadley.
Did Ian Wentworth know about his wife’s extracurricular activities? Did he care?
Maybe the Wentworths were like Hadley’s parents. Did their own things, including taking lovers when it suited them.
Still, Hadley guessed having ties to the prime minister, Ian Wentworth wouldn’t like any sort of link to terrorist activity.
Kitty and her husband took their seats. Bennett watched the couple, his face intense.
“When she gets up, we follow,” Hadley said.
He nodded.
Then Hadley saw another couple enter the theatre, and groaned.
“What?” Bennett asked.
“My parents.” She’d have to be careful not to let them see her.
Bennett leaned forward, and his gaze zeroed in on her parents walking to their seats.
“You look like your mother, but have your father’s height.”
“That’s all I got from them, thankfully.”
People were greeting her parents. She saw her mother icily say hello to one woman, before spying another woman and pouring on an effusive welcome. She lavished attention on her favorites, and poured ice on the people she felt beneath her. She’d done the same to her children.
Her father just looked bored.
Bennett cleared his throat. “They seem…”
“Cold,” she said. “I used to wonder if they had ice in their veins. They only care about themselves.”
“Where did you spring from, then? You’re the total opposite to that.”
She couldn’t stop her smile. The praise felt nice. “I was pretty sure I was adopted when I was a child. Or at least that’s what I tried to tell myself. That someone left me on their doorstep.”
Bennett leaned closer. “You’re an incredible woman, Hadley. Who contributed to our DNA has very little influence on what we choose to do in life, who we really are inside.”
She just stared at him.
Then the lights dimmed, and a spotlight illuminated an actor standing on the stage.
As the show began, Hadley alternated between keeping an eye on the stage, and on Kitty. The woman appeared to be enjoying the play, and didn’t look like she was moving before intermission.
Bennett hadn’t moved his hand. It still rested on Hadley’s thigh, his thumb rubbing distracting circles on her leg through the silk.
A part of her was terrified to let him any closer, but a part of her wanted him touching her skin. She let out a slow breath.
She was in the middle of a mission. She should be focused.
Bennett’s hand moved to the slit in her dress, and then his fingers brushed skin. She squirmed.
“Like that?” he whispered.