"Elena, over here!"
"One more shot, Elena."
"Could we get one of you by yourself?"
Elena Gilbert's date moved a few feet ahead, leaving her to stand alone, a lightning rod in the storm of flashing bulbs and the chaos of shouts and snapping shutters. A carnival of exhibitionism, and she was the main attraction. Red carpets and runways. There was no place like home.
Elena stopped and stroke a pose. Body in profile. Face front. Breasts up. Hips forward. Knee bent. Head high. Like a horse, she could fall asleep standing this way. A very well-bred, expensive horse and she dared anyone to bet against her.
"Who are you wearing tonight, Elena?"
God, who did I settle on? Elena thought. Jesus, I can't remember!
Several of her favourite designers sent dresses over, and for the life of her…she glanced down at the clover green shantung sheathing the long line of her body as if the designer's name might be emblazoned there. Cardinal rule of red carpet—never forget who you are wearing. That was what Elena was taught one day one.
"Elie Saab." Elena lifted the hem of the dress mere inches to reveal the glittering glory of her shoes. "Giuseppe Zanotti."
She nodded her head once and offered a smile before moving down the carpet to join her date.
Matt Donovan. Last year's NFL MVP, former Heisman winner and her future ex-boyfriend. This might be the last night they would share the spotlight. He wouldn't see it coming, but it needed to come.
Actually, so did Elena. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to wait just one more night before she cut Matt loose. He was good-looking. There was no doubt about that. Not in the stunning, almost disturbing way that-that some people were, but in a healthy American way. Matt Donovan was all-American. His blond hair was cropped short, and his skin was sunburnt from spending a lot of time in the outdoors. His blue eyes were honest and straightforward. The typical golden boy.
"You think there will be more press inside?" That eager light in Matt's eyes reminded Elena why it had to be quitted. Probably tonight, she said to herself.
Matt wanted all of this more than he wanted her. She got it. She grew up in a world of calculation, and the most calculating player of them all stared back at her from the mirror every morning. She looked at her right in the eyes with no regrets, but this—all of this—didn't feed her. Elena suspected Matt had quickly become addicted to the spotlight, to the attention. He needed it, and she was allergic to needy. She felt a breakout coming on like a dreaded pimple knotting below the surface of their brief and very public relationship.
They had been going out for less than a month, and he was already shipping them. Looking for ways to combine their names. Like M&E or Mattelena. But Elena didn't like it at all.
"There may be some press inside," she finally responded to his question. "But the worst of it is over."
"Worst?" Matt frowned, a quick bend of his dark blond brows. "This is what you do, Elena. I thought you loved it."
"Yeah, well, I have been doing it for some time. It gets old."
"Not for me. Not yet." He flashed his Colgate smile—literally, he just signed the contract today—and took her hand. "I'm just getting started."
And Elena was ready to stop. Oh, there would still be red carpets at fund-raisers like these, and endorsements and the occasional show, but she had been modelling since she was eighteen years old. In ten years she had scored every major cover. Worn all the elite designers. Been through every Fashion Week on repeat year after year. The catwalk was littered with kittens, girls still in high school. It was a girl's game, one that required constant vigilance. Too much vigilance for something she found meant less to her than it ever had before.
Elena's mind wandered to the meeting scheduled with her team tomorrow to strategize the next phase of her career. Her first natural smile of the night moved her mouth from the plastic facsimile she offered the cameras to the closest thing to real she would show in public. Her plans for this next stage of her life were completely her own, and they excited her. Maybe she was jaded, but it took more and more to excite her these days. That was probably why she had kept Mr Golden Boy around for the last month.
Once inside Cipriani, she glanced around one of New York's most elegant ballrooms, its Greek revival columns studded with muted lights. Floral arrangements of gold, cream, and rose served as elaborate centrepieces for each table. The seventy-foot Wedgewood ceiling hovered over the scene like an elegantly painted sky.
"I know I should know." Matt bent his head, the warm breath of his words at her ear. "But what is this event for again? They kind of all run together after a while."
"Uncle Whitmore is honouring some entrepreneurs for their philanthropic efforts. An excuse for rich people to dress up and eat and have their pictures taken."
"Nathan Whitmore isn't actually your uncle, though, right?"
"No, but he is my father's closest friend. Daddy was a huge part of building Augustine Enterprises, and he is Uncle Whitmore's right hand." Yet another natural smile touched her lips. A tiny shrug lifted her bare shoulders. "His son, Aaron, and I grew up very close. Our families took vacations together. We went to the same schools here in New York. We were…well, it was nice."
"You and Aaron ever…" Matt lifted and lowered his eyebrows suggestively.
So there were still some people who didn't know every detail of her life that had been blared in tabloids and proclaimed on TMZ as gospel truth. Elena couldn't decide if she was pleased or insulted by Matt's ignorance of her past with Aaron.
"Yeah, we dated a few years back." A bitter pill lodged in her throat, but she forced herself to swallow it and said the next words. "That was, of course, before he married his wife, Kerris."
Matt glanced at the card the hostess handed them when they entered, and scanned the room until his eyes rested on a table near the stage. He pointed the card in that direction.
"Isn't that them at our table?"
What did I do to deserve this? Elena thought as she looked at the table near the stage. Who am I kidding? She had done a lot more to deserve much worse, but it seemed like a particularly cruel punishment to seat her with Aaron and Kerris Whitmore. She spent half her life certain that she and Aaron would marry, that they would be the envy of all their friends and pretty much the civilized world. Instead, envy pinched her heart. They had twins not even two years ago, and Kerris's petite frame shows a small baby bump. She was pregnant again. Already? Elena thought. What are they, rabbits? It was obscene to be that fertile.
And obscene to be that happy.
As Elena watched, Aaron pressed his hand to Kerris's back, seating her and dropping a kiss on her dark hair. Their eyes locked for an extra second, something passing between them that made her feel like a Peeping Tom. Something that walled out everyone around them for those few moments.
It didn't hurt anymore, seeing them together, but a whole night of it could drive Elena to drunkenness and disorderly conduct, two offenses she had avoided for more than a year. There should be a token for that, like a sobriety coin or something. Though her sins had been anything but anonymous. She was a pap's field day. She knew it, but couldn't make herself care what they reported. Most of it was true, and all the fucks she had to give ran out years ago.
Elena couldn't figure why she would be at their table. Her mother chaired this event. She wouldn't torture her this way. Mother wouldn't, but Daddy…
Speak and he shall appear, she thought. How ironic! Her father, Grayson Gilbert materialized in front of her, dapper, distinguished, and as handsome as the day her mother married him. The fairness of his hair swallows up the grey, and he looked not much older than in the wedding pictures she had seen from thirty years ago. The lines fanning out from the brown eyes so like hers only deepen and added maturity to his appeal. Those eyes stared back at her with something very close to…tolerance. That was about all her father had left for her these days. You can't live the way I have, as publicly as I have (refer back to the fucks I ran out of years ago), and expect to remain Daddy's little girl. That was what she had always believed.
Yet Elena would do anything for him. He knew it and exploited that weakness at every turn, and she saw a turn coming. He glanced speculatively between Matt and her.
"Hi, Daddy." Elena looped her elbow through Matt's. "Matt, this is Grayson Gilbert, my father. Daddy, you know Matt, right? He plays for the Jets."
"Yes, of course. That was some pass on Sunday." Her father reached for Matt's hand and gave it a friendly shake before dismissing him with the look he reserved for people who could do nothing for him. "I could use your help tonight, Elena. There is a big fish here we need to reel in."
This wasn't the first time her father had required her help persuading someone his company would be much better off under the Augustine Enterprises umbrella. Elena glanced down at her cleavage, which was on display, making sure the girls were ready to earn their keep. When your father recruits your sixteen-year-old charms to persuade grown men, you get used to feeling like a commodity. This idea had been imprinted in her brain for a long time. No different from using her legs to sell shoes or her long dark, silky brown hair to sell shampoo. Only the payoff was Daddy's approval. Much harder to come by than any cheque she had ever cashed.
"Your mother has seated Aaron at your table to help," Grayson continued, his voice low as he grasped her elbow and walked her slowly towards the table, leaving Matt to trail behind just out of earshot. "So Aaron will be in one ear and you will be in the other."
Great, Elena thought. What a night! Not only did she have to watch her former lover and oldest friend's wedded bliss with another woman, but she got to bathe in some old man's drool all night while she convinced him he really should be happy when their mammoth conglomerate gobbles up his life's work. And if she started losing him, she would just point to her chest and say, "And did I mention my breasts?"
"So who is this big fish I'm wiggling on the hook for?" Elena slowed her steps, forcing her father to do the same.
Grayson's lips tighten with distaste at Elena's candour. He had no problem doing distasteful things, but he didn't like her talking about them. Or maybe he just didn't like to talk about the distasteful things she did, even when she did them for him.
"Damon Salvatore." Grayson narrowed his eyes like he was sighting a target. "Thirty-five years old. He and his business partner are based in Atlanta, but are here in New York for a few months exploring options to expand, taking meetings, doing events like this one."
Well, at least she could knock old off the list. He was not much older than she was.
"So what is his deal?"
"His 'deal' is that he and his college buddy started a business to start businesses, and it is exploded. They focus on developing and third world nations. They have started businesses in Haiti, Kenya, and Cambodia. They are really concerned about training the people in these areas and empowering them economically. It is actually quite brilliant, and good of them."
"If it is so good of them, why can't we just leave them to it?"
"Because, honey"—Grayson dipped the word in condescension—"they are making money hand over fist, and that bottom line would be even better under Augustine leadership."
"Better because it would be an Augustine holding and you would get to benefit from it?"
"Me?" Grayson elevated just one brow. "Don't you mean we? This is your future, too, young lady. When you are done with this modelling nonsense, there is a place for you at the table."
He said this to manipulate her. He used her love against her, and she allowed it. Her father probably thought the only place at the table for her was under it, blowing some client who needed persuading. Not that he had ever actually asked her to sleep with anyone to acquire a company. Even he wouldn't prostitute his own daughter.
Who knows how badly he wants this fish? Elena guessed.
She looked at the table where Aaron and Kerris just sat down. Aaron stood back up to greet two men approaching the table. One was a tall man who seemed fit enough. He did look good in his tuxedo but definitely not someone who would attract her attention span long enough.
The other man—well, the other man you would never forget. This man was a vivid "eternal stud". His tuxedo—Tom Ford laid against him like a lover. He wore it with a white, open-collared silk shirt instead of a bow tie, and Elena approved. He was what some would call strapping. He was at least standing 5'10" in height with a well built, toned physique. The flawlessly tailored pants pull just a little at the muscled line of his thigh. He had a light complexion with olive undertones and had a strong bone structure with high cheeks bones and a solid jaw line. His brown, almost black hair which hung just over his ears made something arresting of a face that could have stopped at handsome.
"Did you hear me, Elena?" Impatience tightened Grayson's lips.
"Sorry, Daddy. No. You were saying something about this Damon Salvatore."
"That is him at the table with Aaron. He is the one who doesn't have a bow tie, and his partner is the one with a bow tie."
"You want me to charm him?"
The prospect of flirting with this beautiful beast of a man made Elena tingle. It would be like taming a lion with no whip or chair. A bare-handed taunting and tempting with only her considerable female wiles to subdue all that hulking maleness. Deliciously dangerous, and she was completely up for the challenge.
"Not charm, just…be nice to him. Talk up Augustine when you have an opening." Grayson's mouth went stern and his eyes turned hard. "I'm trusting you with this, Elena. Do not embarrass me with this man. He is not like these other men you…entertain."
Grayson casted a glance over his shoulder at Matt, who was looking around the ballroom. Elena just didn't get famous people who didn't realize they were famous. This is now your natural habitat, she thought. Why are you still staring around?
"Don't worry, Daddy. I promise not to embarrass you with my wanton ways."
Elena kept her tone light, but she knew her past exploits prompted his warning.
"I'm not worried. You could lure flies away from shit when you set your mind to it."
"What a pleasant image, Daddy. I will hold it close."
"Do." He brought them to a complete stop, offering her elbow back to Matt with an absent smile. "It was good meeting you, Matt. Keep up the good work this season."
"Sure thing, Mr Gilbert," Matt offered his classic white-toothed smile. "Nice to meet you, too."
Grayson nodded before returning his eyes to Elena.
"Remember what I said, Elena. I need to go check on a surprise guest."
"Surprise?" Her interest piqued. Grayson did great surprises. "No hints?"
"You will find out with everyone else, sweetheart."
Of course, Elena thought. Why would I be special?
"You ready?" she asked Matt as her father walked off to tend to his surprise guest.
"Definitely."
Matt kissed her hair, and Elena couldn't help but remember the kiss Aaron gave Kerris a few minutes ago. She was not sure anyone would ever kiss her that way. Not the kiss itself, the practice of lips touching hair, but what laid behind it. She couldn't put her finger on it, but she was sure no one had ever touched her that way. No one had ever felt for her what Aaron felt for that woman. She could see it in the simplest contact they shared. Whatever they had, she didn't think she ever believed in it, and she certainly didn't expect it for herself.
They reached the table, and Elena saw her place card to the left of Damon Salvatore's, with Aaron on his right, like Grayson said it would be. At least he seated her date on her other side. Kerris was, of course, on Aaron's other side. There had never been any love lost between that girl and her. She stole what was always supposed to be Elena's. Aaron and Elena made sense. She and Aaron defied the laws of social logic, her being a nobody and all, but somehow here they were, obviously besotted with each other and…working.
"Elena, Aunt Miranda told me you just got back from Dubai." Aaron walked around the table and kissed Elena's cheek.
"Yep." Elena leaned in to the friendly greeting, knowing friendly was as far as they would ever go now. "It was a quick shoot."
Somehow they had remained friends despite the disastrous affair a few years back, a desperate attempt on Elena's part when Kerris married Aaron's best friend, Wes. Elena had been conductor for enough train wrecks to recognize one, and that was some messed-up shit. Now Wes is married to Aaron's cousin Jo, and Aaron was married to Kerris. A game of musical beds Elena wish she could have gotten in on.
Come to think of it, with her turn at Aaron, she guessed she kind of did.
Aaron had stayed true through everyone telling him what a bitch she was, and let's face it, they were right. He even forgave her insulting treatment of his wife. They didn't talk every day or anything, but he could have used his influence with the Whitmore Foundation to take something from her that meant a lot. Elena had served as the foundation's celebrity ambassador for years. If she hadn't done anything else right, she had that. Aaron knew how much it meant to her, and didn't take it away as retaliation for the bad blood between Kerris and her. For that, and for a hundred other kindnesses he had shown her since they were in preschool, she would strain to be civil to his sweet wife.
"Sweet" was not a compliment, by the way. Kerris's smile alone gave her a cavity.
"Good to see you, Aaron. Hi, Kerris." Elena slid her glance to Kerris. Kerris returned her nod, wearing a guarded look on her face. Elena would try for her best behaviour, but she was a bitch on a leash that slipped from time to time. Best be prepared for anything.
"Elena, let me introduce you to our guests." Aaron gestured to the tall man wearing the bow tie. "This is Enzo St. John, co-founder of Mystic Corp."
Enzo stood and shook her hand. "Nice to meet you."
"And this is his business partner, Damon Salvatore."
Aaron stepped back, and Elena had her first close-up of the fish she was here to catch. Only she was the one hooked, immediately. She was careful not to show it, but that stunned look she was used to seeing on other people's faces? All over her inside face.
This force of flesh and bone and muscle wrapped in heat loomed over her. Damon Salvatore's presence burnt holes in her composure. She could tell from across the room that he was attractive and built like a mountain lion, lean and strong and broad. But it was only now, with proximity, that his absolute confidence met her head-on. He tilts his head to the left, his blue-grey eyes steadily considering her, and Elena swore he knew. Even though she was sure her face didn't give it away, she swore he knew that as she stood in front of him, inhaling his clean scent and waiting for his first smile, windmills turned in her belly.
"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Gilbert." His lips, wide and full, gave her a smile punctuated by dimples.
Take me now.
That was not a figure of speech. Elena quite literally wanted him to toss her over that hulking shoulder, find a dark corner somewhere, and make love to her so deeply into a wall they would leave a dent. Or in a bathroom stall. Hell, he could drag her over to the elaborate buffet table and take her from behind right there by the ice sculpture.
One brow rose. Holy crap, she hadn't responded yet.
"Um, nice to meet you, too, Mr Salvatore." Elena took her time so he tongue didn't betray the muddled mess of haywire hormones she was right now.
His eyes drifted over her shoulder, forcing her mind and manners back to Matt.
"Oh, yes. I'm sorry. How rude." Elena turned to Matt, who immediately claimed her elbow and drew her into his side. All of a sudden he was territorial. She couldn't blame him. If my girlfriend was within five feet of this man, I would handcuff her to me for the night, she thought. "This is Matt Donovan."
"Great game Sunday." Damon clasped the hand Matt was manacling her with. "I'm a Falcons fan myself, but I can appreciate a good toss no matter the team. That's some arm you got there."
Matt's hold on her relaxed a bit. Clever Damon, disarming him that way. Well played. Will I be able to strip this fish of his defences as easily? Elena thought.
Once seated, Matt, Damon, Enzo, and Aaron fell into a discussion about football Elena didn't even try to follow. Apparently neither did Kerris. She was texting someone with a small frown on her face, and mumbled something to Aaron about a sitter. Elena settled into her seat beside Damon, taking a few moments to compose herself and strategized how she could get that hook in his mouth.
"So you were in Dubai?"
The question startled Elena a little, she was so lost in her musings. She turned slightly in Damon's direction, creasing her lips politely.
"For a shoot, yes." She toyed with the clamp on her clutch, which rested on the table. "And my friend Liv married a prince over there. I like to visit her every once in a while."
"A real live prince, huh?" Damon teased her with a quirk of those full lips.
"Don't be too impressed." She leaned a few inches closer to him and lowered her voice. "He is a prince in name only."
"If he is a prince in name only, what does that make him in deed?"
Elena couldn't hold on to the humour when she recalled the bruises shackling Liv's throat and wrists, or the black-and-blue mark on her cheek like a brand. She refocused her eyes and sobered her mouth.
"A frog."
"I thought you ladies kissed all the frogs to find the prince."
"It happens that way in fairy tales, not in Manhattan." Elena sipped her champagne. "Or in Dubai, apparently."
"So you don't believe in fairy tales." His striking blue-grey eyes made a slow, thorough inspection of her features.
"I don't. Do you?" She tossed a skein of her hair back so he got an eyeful of the bare line of her neck and shoulder. His eyes moved down her neck, warming the skin like a touch, before he looked back into her eyes.
"I did when I was a child." Damon laughed a little, lounged back in his chair, and linked long fingers across a flat stomach Elena imagined was corded with muscle. "Well, if you want your children to be intelligent, read them fairy tales. If you want them to be more intelligent, read them more fairy tales."
Elena's eyes widened. "Who told you that?"
He laughed again, his teeth white against his skin. With striking, intense blue-grey eyes contrasting wonderfully against darkened lashes and eyebrows, a "bad boy" smile, Damon Salvatore was definitely sexy and seductive.
"Albert Einstein."
"Hmm."
"I thought girls like fairy tales." He brushed a hand over his neat hair, disrupting it into a spill on his forehead. "There is always 'happily ever after' in fairy tales."
"When I was a little girl I used to read fairy tales. In fairy tales you meet Prince Charming and he is everything you ever wanted. In fairy tales the bad guy is very easy to spot. The bad guy is always wearing a black cape so you always know who he is. Then you grow up and you realize that Prince Charming is not as easy to find as you thought. You realize the bad guy is not wearing a black cape and he is not easy to spot."
"Then how does the bad guy look now?"
"The bad guy is really funny, and he makes you laugh, and he has perfect hair."
"Really?" His eyes gleamed, heating up a little as they held hers. "Am I the bay guy or the Prince Charming?"
Elena was supposed to be flirting with him, baiting him, but he was casting the line. She didn't like it. She needed the pole in her hand. She broke that steamy contact, lowering her eyes to the cocktail ring she was twisting around her finger.
"I heard you were in Haiti. What took you to Haiti?" she asked. "It is miserably hot this time of year."
Damon paused a moment before answering, the press of his lips against a smile acknowledging her conversational feint.
"You have been?"
"Elena has been to our orphanage in Haiti several times for the foundation," Aaron interjected from Damon's other side.
Elena wondered how in on this little plan of Grayson's he actually was. Aaron was a great guy, but when it came down to it, he was as much Nathan Whitmore's son as she was Grayson Gilbert's daughter. Both of them descended from ruthless corporate raiders.
"She is our celebrity ambassador," Aaron continued.
"Really?" A new light entered Damon's eyes. It could be respect. Elena was not sure.
"Christina, Aaron's mother, recruited me years ago to do it, and they haven't gotten rid of me yet."
Though there were a few times Elena wondered if the Whitmore Foundation board of directors might have ousted her had she not been Baby Girl of Grayson Gilbert. And right on cue, her father took a seat beside Enzo.
"Sorry, I was detained making plans for a surprise guest." Grayson took a sip of the white wine at his elbow. "Now, Damon and Enzo, you are both Princeton men, right?"
"In a manner of speaking." Damon offered a self-deprecating laugh, sharing a grin across the table with Enzo. "We dropped out our junior year to start Mystic Corp."
"It all worked out, though." Enzo took sip of his wine. "They conferred an honorary degree on us last year."
"Well, that was nice." Grayson pointed a fork in Elena's direction. "You wouldn't know it, but Elena here was accepted to Princeton."
Elena's lips pursed against the groan that wanted out so badly. Not this again, she thought.
"And Sarah Lawrence," Grayson continued. "And UCLA."
"Yes, but somewhere along the way I got confused and thought it was my life." Elena dashed saccharine on the smile she offered her father. "And that I could do what I wanted with it."
"You mean running all over the world having your picture taken?" Grayson lowered his fork to his plate and his eyebrows into the frown she was used to seeing when they discussed her misspent youth.
"It is actually worked out quite well for me, Daddy."
She was one of the highest-paid, most sought-after models in the world. That meant something to her, if not to him. She wouldn't let him piss on it.
"We saw your billboard today." Enzo passed the words and a kind smile to Elena across the table.
"I hope it was the one where she is wearing clothes." Grayson sliced into his tender steak and any pride Elena might feel for her accomplishments, as they were.
An awkward silence pooled around his words. Elena felt Damon's eyes on her, assessing if Grayson's words had found their mark. Good luck cracking this safe, Salvatore, she thought. She offered a laugh that tinkled like a champagne toast.
"Daddy, that is the REVEAL campaign." Elena was sure he was not bringing up the Playboy spread she recently did for her birthday. Not in front of his fish. "It is very tastefully shot."
Enzo forked an asparagus spear. "Was that the one we saw, Damon?"
"Not sure." Damon moved his broad shoulders in a careless shrug.
"If it was Times Square, it is REVEAL, a skin-care product I endorse." Elena pushed a chunk of hair behind one ear. "In the other one I'm actually wearing clothes."
"Where is the other billboard?" Damon raised his glass of water to his lips while he waited for her answer.
"In the Meatpacking District." Elena was taking the pole back and baiting the hook. "But you don't have to try to find it. You have the real thing right here."
Damon didn't bite, but smiled and gave her one last look before turning to answer a question Aaron just posed.
"Where is your mum?" Matt asked from his seat beside her.
"Probably scolding a server." She pierced a scallop and popped it into her mouth. "After years of practice, she is very good at that."
"Your mother is actually making some seating chart adjustments so our special guest can sit here with us," Grayson said.
That special guest again. As long as it was not another sheikh. The last time Elena entertained one of Grayson's sheikhs, he had followed her to the bathroom and couldn't get his hands off her. He didn't speak a word of English, but she translated knee to groin perfectly.
"Here they come now." Grayson wore a pleased expression on his usually hard-to-satisfy face.
Elena saw her mother first, and she could only hope, with all her creams, exfoliations, and serums, to look as beautiful as Miranda Grayson did in twenty years. Like Elena she was a brunette. Where Elena's hair was dark brown, hers was almond in colour. Her hair colour and nature were much softer than Elena's. But they both shared the same brown doe eyes.
By all rights, living with Grayson Gilbert—his callousness, infidelity, and neglect—should have lined Miranda's face with pain, but her skin radiated age-defying youth. By necessity, Elena had toughened her heart's tender places, but she had always wanted to be like her mother in some ways. Always wanted them to be closer. Maybe she reminded her mother too much of her father for her to really love her. She glanced at her father, who barely registered her mother's approach because he was fixated on the "special guest" accompanying her.
Elena shifted her attention to the special guest.
Everything in her went still. Her fingers froze around her fork like rigor mortis had set in. Her breath stalled in her throat. Her heart refused to beat for a matter of seconds, depriving her of blood to the brain. That must be why she was lightheaded. Why her hands went cold and her feet went numb. It was circulatory, not long-buried fear. Not never-forgotten disgust. Not deeply embedded shame.
She wanted to believe the man at her mother's side was not who she thought he was. Was not who her body thought he was, but he went still, too, and made her certain. He stopped walking towards them, his steps faltering for a heartbeat and his eyes widening when they tangled with hers. They shared memories, memories that tortured her dreams into nightmares. Memories that, even now, as he regained his composure and continued his steady pace towards her table behind her mother, twisted his lips into a smile.