“It’s the most shocking thing I’ve ever heard,” she teased. “Macalister Hale owns a cat.”
“Sophia.”
She was undeterred and pressed her hands to her chest dramatically. “I hope no one finds out. It’s just simply scandalous.”
When she pushed me, my instinct was to shove back. I reached out and seized her hand, not in affection, but in domination. At my touch, her eyes went enormously wide. Her gaze dropped to my fingers wrapped around her wrist then slowly returned to mine with heat pooled in her blue irises.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“Correcting your behavior.” I matched her low voice. “I would do more, if I had the time.”
Her red lips parted, and I focused on them, studying the heart shape as she struggled to find her breath.
But the sound of a car pulling up in the drive and the valet supervisor’s voice telling his men to line up brought reality back upon us. I tore my hand away, the feel of her warmth still lingering.
I straightened and turned toward the door, and by the time the first guest had climbed the front steps, Sophia was gone, off to ensure everything was being carried out to our mutual satisfaction.
Damon and Kristin Lynch were the second guests to arrive. They looked perfectly styled for the event, conservative and safe for mass appeal. They displayed the correct amount of gratitude to me for hosting the party, which I appreciated.
“Duncan will be along shortly,” Kristin said, as if I cared whether their son attended. It would be important to the Lynches, though. Damon’s campaign touted that his family was the bedrock keeping him strong and supporting him every step of the way. He’d need to reinforce that with family pictures tonight.
Which reminded me of the issue I’d witnessed at the charity event weeks ago.
“Damon, a word.” I motioned toward the sitting room.
He followed me without hesitation, and I waited until we were out of his wife’s earshot.
“I’d prefer your son not bring any drugs onto my property.”
He let out a heavy sigh, which confirmed my suspicions. If he didn’t know, he would have balked. Instead, he was resigned. “Who told you?” He gave me a look of disdain. “The Alby girl?”
“No,” I growled. “I caught him and Liam’s son at the bachelor auction with cocaine. He wasn’t subtle either. Anyone could have walked by.” I lifted my chest and glowered at him. He was the frontrunner by a considerable margin. “This race is yours to lose, and Duncan’s issue is a liability.”
I needed Damon to win, because it could catapult Vance’s career. Being a part of a congressional staff would open doors and allow him to ascend much faster.
Also, now that Vance was part of the campaign team, Damon had to win. Losing wasn’t something the Hales did.
He sat down on the couch, right in the center. I tried not to think about how I’d sat in that same place more than a month ago and guided Sophia to wrap her mouth around my cock. Jesus, I spent enough time thinking about it already.
I pushed the image from my mind as his head sank into his hands.
“Do you need help?” I asked, striving for gentle tone. “Or can you handle it?”
I didn’t mean it as a threat. I wanted it to be another friendly gesture, for him to view me as someone to rely on.
“No,” he answered quietly. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Good.”
He lifted his head and peered up at me, his eyes cloudy. “Can I give you some advice? Your assistant . . . Just be careful. Duncan tells me she’s famous for spreading lies.”
I raised an eyebrow, irritated. “As I understand it, she’s not too keen on your son either.”
“No.” He stood and looked away, lost in thought. “They’ve never been friends.”
There was a note of sadness in his voice that could not be ignored. It whispered of things unsaid, and I went still as the thought struck me.
Duncan Lynch.
He was the other name Sophia refused to tell me.
But . . . why? What had he done that Sophia was desperate to reveal, and yet so reluctant to tell me?
Voices sounded in the entryway, meaning I had more guests to greet, so I released Damon to go down to the gardens and encourage people to open their pocketbooks and donate to his campaign.
Evangeline was waiting for me, wearing a sapphire blue strapless dress, paired with an elaborate necklace and earrings, that I found to be too much. If she were Sophia, I’d have asked her to pare back and take the necklace off.
But, as I was painfully aware, she wasn’t Sophia.
I enjoyed my conversations with Evangeline. She was an intelligent woman with a pretty face and more compassion than I’d ever have. She took a chance on me, and I was grateful for her partnership. Yet there was no spark between us. She didn’t challenge or irritate me, didn’t declare she hated me as both my wives had once done, before I’d worn them down and convinced them to fall in love with me.