C21, PT. 1

Sullivan nodded to Matthew and Julius, who inclined their heads respectfully. Roth didn’t give her a chance to say goodbye. He grabbed her hand and strode after Sullivan, who tapped certain guests. Several servers were doing the same.

They followed the select crowd out of the ballroom and down a short hallway. Roth took the opportunity to tuck her beneath his shoulder and press his lips to her ear. “Embarrass me by throwing yourself at another man like that again, I’ll beat the shit out of you.”

She went rigid. “They’re my friends.”

“Your friends just confirmed what I’ve always known to be true. They don’t want a platonic relationship with you. That means you don’t talk to them without me present, and if you want them to keep breathing, don’t you fucking touch them.”

“Roth!”

Mikhail beckoned from a huddle with two other men. She jerked away, knowing he wouldn’t ignore Mikhail and come after her. Her chest burned with fury as she strode past the dining room and continued toward the alcove at the end of the hall.

She didn’t hug Julius and Matthew to make him jealous. She was so relieved to see a familiar face that she reacted without thinking and despite their intentions, (which she still couldn’t wrap her mind around) she had never seen them as anything but friends. Of course, Roth had to put the worst possible spin on it and threaten to beat her if she spoke to them without him present. What the hell was wrong with him? Didn’t he trust her? Did he think she would spread her legs for any man who asked?

As she approached the alcove, she was so busy taking in the massive family portrait on the wall that she failed to notice the small figure in a gold armchair. A girl in a red velvet dress sat crosslegged, head bent over an open book on her lap. Jasmine stopped in her tracks, the sight so reminiscent of her own childhood that she thought she was seeing things. When the girl turned the page, she let out a relieved breath.

She glanced over her shoulder at the crowd mingling in front of the dining room before turning back to the girl who had yet to acknowledge her presence. Either she was totally engrossed in her book or deliberately ignoring her. Remembering how terrified she’d been of saying the wrong thing at parties like this, her mouth curved. She estimated that the girl was between twelve or thirteen.

“I saw you dance with Grandpa.”

The voice was so soft that she thought she was hearing things. Then the girl lifted her head, enough for her to get a glimpse of those distinctive Trentham eyes, pale skin, and rosebud lips before her head ducked down again, hair falling forward to conceal her features.

“Don’t judge me too harshly,” she said with a grimace. “I haven’t danced in years.”

The girl turned another page in her book.

“Do you dance?”

No answer.

“What’s your name? I’m Jasmine.”

When she didn’t get a response, she regarded the girl thoughtfully. Although Sullivan had mentioned his granddaughter, her age, name, and sex hadn’t come up in her Google search. The Trentham’s were taking great care to keep her out of the spotlight. Maybe she had been told not to speak to anyone.

Once more, she glanced over her shoulder. The crush in front of the door looked like a headache. She turned back to the girl.

“What are you reading?” By now, she expected the silent treatment. It got her wheels turning. As someone who didn’t read genres that were as socially acceptable as thrillers, mysteries, or non-fiction, that question had always gotten her back up. She considered the girl for a moment before she used a card she’d never used in her life. “I’m an author.”

The girl’s head snapped up, blue eyes round and riveted. “You are?”

“Yes.”

The girl’s look of awe warmed her heart. She would have died to meet an author at her age.

“What do you write?”

“Romance and fantasy.” When the girl’s eyes lit up, she raised a brow. “Now, will you show me what you’re reading?”

There was only a slight hesitation before the girl flashed a familiar cover that tickled the back of her memory.

“Uncharted Waters,” she said gravely. “That’s a good one. First time reading it?”

The girl hesitated before she shook her head.

“Am I terrible for wanting Amir’s mother, the Queen, to die for being an evil witch?”

The girl’s eyes flared in surprise before she let out a giggle. Though the delightful sound was drowned out by the adults in the distance, the girl clapped a hand over her mouth as if she’d been told to keep quiet.

“How old are you?”

“Twelve.”

She tried to remember how old she was when she picked up Uncharted Waters. If she remembered correctly, this book jumpstarted her sexual awakening. Twelve seemed far too young, but she’d always read several levels above her age group, and it seemed the Trentham heir did as well. If the girl spent as much time reading as she had, she was probably at a high school reading level by now.

“Can I read your books?”

She focused on the girl who had unfurled from her hunched position and was now sitting up, legs swinging, her lovely face animated and curious.

“You may be able to read my fantasy,” she drawled. “But first…”

“Yes?”

“What’s your name?”

The girl’s mouth curved before her gaze flicked beyond Jasmine and instantly went blank.

“Dahlia.”

She started and turned at the deep rumble that came from behind her. A man and woman stood side by side. It took her a nanosecond to realize she was looking at Nathaniel Trentham, who was a mirror image of his father. They had the same unsettling deep blue eyes and unruly hair, but Nathaniel was clean cut, several inches taller, and looked like his face would break if he smiled. The workaholic son and father of the girl she was talking to. The look he was giving her wasn’t exactly friendly. The woman at his side, a buxom strawberry blond around her height, gave her an appraising look.

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

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