C22, PT. 3

As she drained one glass of champagne and reached for another, Roth palmed her back. She wasn’t sure whether he was chastising her, wanted her input in the conversation, or requesting they move on. She wasn’t capable of doing anything more than sip champagne and smile vacantly as she escaped in her mind, since she couldn’t do so physically just yet.

She’d known that her broken engagement ruined her father and Parker Baldwin’s partnership. That had been flung in her face many times, along with the fact that her father had lost millions. What had never been discussed was the extent of their feud or that dad had retaliated so viciously. She had no idea Parker died. She didn’t want to believe it was from the stress of what he’d gone through, though that’s what Tucker believed.

Tucker believed many things, including the fact that she “broke” Ford. That couldn’t be true. Ford had been fond of her, but they hadn’t loved each other. They were inching up to friends, but never quite made it. The fact that she hurt him at all filled her with sharp regret. He didn’t deserve that. He had been so kind, the perfect gentleman. She’d hoped he wouldn’t suffer any long-lasting effects from the scandal, but apparently he left society altogether to live the life of a farmer. She couldn’t picture it. Was this a secret desire of his that he hadn’t shared with her, or was he so humiliated by her betrayal that he felt he couldn’t show his face in society?

She came to when Roth moved them through the crush. She hadn’t heard him utter farewells before moving on.

“What else did Tucker say to you?” he asked.

What everyone else already knew, apparently. That she was a slut, ruined everyone’s lives, and she was here because of Roth, not because of any achievements she had made. “Do you know what Christoph Braun looks like?”

“No.”

Hmm. She looked around for Charlotte or someone she’d met who may be able to help. As they moved through the crowd, her ear picked up a group speaking German. She redirected Roth and apologized for interrupting their conversation before asking if they knew Christoph Braun.

One of the women grinned and jerked her head at the man beside her, who was looking down at her with his brows raised.

“I knew your father,” he said in German as he took her hand. “I’m pleased to know he had one of his daughters learn our language.”

“It’s served me well over the years,” she said with a smile. “I trust your wife, Elsa, is well?”

His face warmed. “She is. She hates to travel, so my son came with me.” He beckoned a man in another circle, who immediately came forward. “This is my son, August.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” she said before switching to English. “I’m Jasmine and this is my husband, Roth.”

“I heard about you several years ago. You do business with quite a few of my friends,” Christoph said, eyeing Roth thoughtfully.

When it came to business, Roth was never at a loss for words. It was building rapport through small talk that he struggled with. Christoph and August were clearly Roth’s kind of people and weren’t interested in personal details.

As they talked, she finished her second glass and searched the room for the man with the handlebar mustache that Colette had pointed out at the beginning of the night. He was the last person Roth had to meet and this would all be over.

Her wandering eyes moved over the dancers and those networking on the sidelines. Everyone’s spirits were high, but she felt disconnected from it all. At Charlotte’s side, she convinced herself that she belonged here, that this was her birthright, and she had finally been accepted in high society. But her past would always haunt her.

Those icy stares from her father’s associates made more sense now. Many of them did business with both Parker and her father, but Maximus’ ultimatum caused a domino effect of dissension. And now Roth was going after Tucker… Had Parker contributed to running Roth out of the States, or was Roth going after the last Baldwin standing because he felt like it? She glanced at Roth, already knowing how he would respond to such a question—that it was none of her business. When he turned his head, she looked away and resumed her search for their final contact and stilled.

Colette stood in a far corner of the room, facing off with her oil tycoon grandfather and mother. Before, Cecil towered over Colette, but now he was an inch or two shorter, which Jasmine knew galled the conceited bastard. Although her sister looked composed, she knew whatever they were talking about was far from pleasant. Lyle wasn’t by her side, but she knew her sister was more than capable of standing up for herself.

Colette’s mother, Estelle, had her hand on her father’s arm and seemed to be trying to calm him, but he shook her off and leaned into Colette. Whatever Cecil said caused a break in Colette’s placid demeanor. Her sister took a step back, pain contorting her features.

She wasn’t aware she’d taken a step forward until Roth wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into his side. “Don’t interfere,” he said under his breath.

“Is something wrong?” Christoph asked.

“Sorry, I thought someone needed me,” she said with a bland smile.

“They don’t,” Roth said shortly before he continued to discuss a rail logistics company Christoph had recently acquired.

 She continued her Where’s Waldo? search for Amos Faulkner, but her gaze kept cutting back to her sister. Colette eyed Cecil stoically as he spoke. Her hand balled into a fist. Just like she had, Colette wouldn’t signal for help. She would accept whatever nasty things her grandfather said. The fact that Cecil actively tried to make her fail, was unashamed of it, and felt justified in shaming her for trusting him made her temper erupt. The same protective instinct that caused her to put herself in the line of fire to save Hennessy & Co and defend Roth to her sisters on Thanksgiving roared to life. Yes, her sister could handle her battles on her own, but that didn’t mean she had to.

Roth had grown complacent. That was the only reason she was able to tear free. She said a hurried, “Excuse me,” before she plunged into the crowd. She pretended not to hear several women call out her name. No one was going to stop her from getting to her sister’s side.

**This is a raw draft of Bitter Confessions. Please do not share or distribute.

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