C21, PT. 2

“Nathaniel Trentham,” he said, stepping forward and offering his hand.

She took it and blinked at the firm handshake, which was a far cry from his father’s gallant hand kissing. Clearly, he hadn’t inherited his father’s charm. “Jasmine Hen…” she began before she corrected herself. “Roth.”

Nathaniel gave a curt nod, released her hand, and switched his intense gaze to his daughter. “It’s Dahlia’s bedtime.”

She didn’t hear any movement behind her, but a second later, the girl passed with her book hidden in the folds of her dress. She felt an odd kinship with Dahlia and wished she could give her a hug. Daughter of a workaholic father. No mother. What were the chances that they discovered and latched onto Uncharted Waters around the same age?

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Dahlia,” she said.

The girl halted, glanced up at her father, and then looked back at her. “It was nice meeting you too, Jasmine.”

“Mrs. Roth,” Nathaniel corrected.

“No, Jasmine’s how I introduced myself and what I prefer to be called,” she said.

Nathaniel gave another curt nod and put his hand on Dahlia’s shoulder as he escorted her to a staff member. That left her with the curvy strawberry blond dressed in a black gown with a dramatic slit and the largest emerald earrings she had ever seen.

“I’m Charlotte Trentham.”

“Oh!” If it wasn’t for her dark blue eyes, there wouldn’t have been a trace of Sullivan in her. “Your father told me you wanted to talk to me about something?”

“Yes.” Charlotte turned and indicated the empty hallway. “But first, you have to tell me how you got Dahlia to light up like that. I haven’t seen my niece smile in weeks.”

Realizing everyone, including Roth, had entered the dining room, sent a ripple of anxiety through her. Damn. “We were talking about books.”

“Yes?” Charlotte prompted.

“I read the book she was reading when I was around her age. I was able to talk to her about it a little.” She hesitated and then inwardly shrugged. “I also told her I’m an author.”

Charlotte paused, brows arching. “Well, aren’t you turning out to be a pleasant surprise? First, my father puts you on the spot by asking for the first dance. That was naughty of him, but you couldn’t have handled it better, and now this. No one mentioned you’re a writer.”

She flicked her hand. “I write under a pen name. Fiction books. It’s not something I share often… or ever.”

There was a great deal of activity in Charlotte’s eyes. She had no idea what the other woman was thinking. Why the hell had she outed herself? And why were they standing here talking about it when everyone was already seated?

“Not it all makes sense,” Charlotte murmured.

“What does?”

“The charities you chose that focus on literacy—book distribution, training workshops on reading and writing, even the program that helps develop children’s reading skills by pairing them with therapy animals and their owners. Of course, you donated to other causes, but I was curious about those charities in particular.”

Her mouth sagged. “How did you…?”

Charlotte gave her an apologetic smile. “I hope you don’t mind. Several of the charities you donated to are run by friends of mine. It’s a small community, and the ninety million you donated got everyone’s attention.”

She jolted. “Ninety million? No, I donated thirty.”

Charlotte gave her a polite, but puzzled smile. “My sources say it was nearly one hundred million.”

Had she accidentally donated a third of her inheritance? No, it couldn’t be. She decided exactly how much would go to each charity and counted every fucking zero ten times to make sure it was right. “I think there’s been a mistake. Maybe there was another donor who gave to those causes at the same time as me?”

“No mistake. Your donation came in and was followed by your husband’s two days later. He doubled your donation to every single charity of your choice.”

She shook her head, sure she hadn’t heard correctly. “My husband donated to…?” She was so astounded, she couldn’t finish her sentence.

“You didn’t know?” Charlotte splayed her hand over her chest. “Was this a surprise and I spoiled it? Maybe he was going to tell you on Christmas? How romantic!”

Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She was flabbergasted. How the hell did he find out about her donations, and why had he copied her? A tax break? Public solidarity? Ten percent of her inheritance had been a massive commitment for her, but he casually doubled the amount. No matter what she did, he always superseded her. She gave him a Rolls-Royce worth over half a million dollars, but between the jewelry and these donations, he overdid her by such a large margin, what she’d done was irrelevant. After mentioning how much more Hennessy & Co was costing him, she had the insane urge to pay him back, even though she knew he could afford it.

Charlotte did a little jump and grabbed hold of her arm. “We better hurry. They’re bringing in the first course.”

Her mind was awhirl as they entered the dining room with a small army of servers carrying large serving trays. There were two long tables that she estimated held about fifty people each. Most of the guests were deep in conversation with their neighbors or distracted by the appetizers being set in front of them, but far too many eyes locked on her and Charlotte. Sullivan was one of them. He sat at the head of one of the tables and beamed at them.

“You found her!” he called, making several people turn in their seats to look.

Stomach churning, she desperately searched for an open seat, but it was hard to see with the servers blocking the way. She spotted Colette and Lyle sitting in the middle of the table and slowed, assuming they had been seated near each other.

“Come, our seats are over here,” Charlotte said and led her to the head of the table where Nathaniel sat with Roth on his right and Mikhail on his left.

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

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