“Ms. Reynolds?”
Emma felt her stomach tighten. She forced a smile up at Cathy Bannaconni.
“My dear, may I call you Emma? I feel so bad about our unfortunate first meeting and was hoping for an opportunity to apologize and maybe explain?” The older woman held out her hand, smiling bravely.
Emma automatically took the woman’s hand. Cathy patted her hand and then pulled away. As she did so, her sharp, bloodred nail raked across Emma’s inner wrist.
Emma’s hand jerked, although she managed not to spill her wine. A long, angry scratch beaded blood along her wrist.
Cathy gasped. “Oh no! I’m so sorry. How clumsy of me. Let me get you a napkin.” She hurried away before Emma could protest, returning with a linen cloth dipped in cold water. “I really shouldn’t wear my nails so long. It’s just a weird little habit of mine.”
Emma wrapped the cloth along the stinging scratch, holding the cool, soothing wetness against the angry slice. “I’m fine. It’s really nothing.”
“You’re so sweet to be so understanding.” Cathy gave a long-suffering sigh. “I’m certain my son has told you all sorts of stories about me. Now I’ve probably added to my terrible image after our disastrous first meeting.”
“Jake doesn’t talk about you,” Emma said.
Cathy’s eyes narrowed. She inhaled sharply. A slow, humorless smile curved her mouth. “That’s good, dear. I know we got off on the wrong foot, but I was so concerned about my grandson. Jake can be quite cruel.” Her gaze dwelt on the fading bruises still evident on Emma’s skin. “But having lived with him these past two years, I’m sure you’re already very aware of that.”
Emma’s murmur was noncommittal. She glanced up as Jake turned to check on her. He raised an eyebrow and she shook her head, indicating she could handle the conversation with his mother. There had to be a reason Cathy Bannaconni had sought her out, and she was going to find out what the reason was.
“I have something you might like, dear,” Cathy said. “Now that you’ll be my daughter-in-law. I read the announcement in the papers. There was quite a write-up, although they said very little about your family and their connections. I thought that strange, didn’t you?”
Emma stiffened, going still inside. She took a sip of the wine Jake had brought to her. He had been very specific not to accept a drink or allow it to leave her hand, even for a moment. When Cathy scratched her, she’d retained possession of the fine, long-stemmed glass, and when she was forced to put it down, to lay the cooling cloth across the scratch, she’d watched her drink carefully. What did Cathy know about her?
“Aren’t you even curious what I have? It belonged to your father.”
She waited a heartbeat. Two. She needed the time to keep her voice normal. “How would you have something that belonged to my father?”
“Miss? Would you care for something to eat?” A young waiter presented a tray first to Emma and, when she shook her head, to Cathy. Emma barely concealed a smile as she recognized Sean. She felt much safer and her stomach settled a little.
Impatiently Cathy waved him off. “Your father was a dear friend of mine.”
The words were tainted with untruth.
A shadow fell across her as a large, extremely handsome man loomed over her. He must have been in his sixties, but he looked younger. There was that same sensual stamp on his face, that mark of dangerously alluring cruelty to his mouth that Jake had, although he looked nothing at all like Jake. She stared up at his eyes. He looked vaguely familiar, although she was certain she’d never seen him before. She inhaled deeply and scented depravity.
“This is Josiah, dear. Josiah Trent. Josiah, this is Jake’s delightful fiancée. Josiah is your father’s uncle, dear.”
For a moment she couldn’t breathe. She actually felt dizzy, the room spinning alarmingly. She looked around, her vision blurring a little. Sean, instead of circulating around the room, was hovering just a few feet away, and that steadied her a little. Two men, just beyond the couch, were watching her intently, eyes narrowed and focused, and she sensed evil in the pair. Drake was just to the right of her, leaning one hip against the wall, talking, but she knew he was watching her every move. Joshua wasn’t in her line of vision, which meant he was somewhere behind her. Jake was across the room, within shouting distance, although the music and conversations seemed abnormally loud all of a sudden. Emma let out her breath, forcing herself to remain calm. She was safe as long as she was out in the open.
“My father’s uncle? You’re my father’s uncle?”
Trent enveloped her hand with his, patting as if to soothe her. One finger slid over the cloth on her wrist, pressing it deeper against the scratch on her arm so that it burned and she jerked her arm away. “You have no idea how long we’ve been searching for you. After my nephew’s death, we lost track of you. It seems Jake managed to find and . . .” He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “Win you for himself.”
Emma extracted her hand and took another sip of wine. Her gaze met Sean’s. Immediately he shifted off the wall and hurried over, bending down with the tray. It gave her a few moments to think as she chose a small bacon-wrapped quiche.
“Thank you. These are delicious.” She knew she sounded grateful, which would only give Cathy and Trent an advantage. They would know they were getting to her.
“You’re supposed to circulate,” Cathy hissed to the waiter. She made an odd noise deep in her throat, somewhere between a growl and a rumble that was menacingly soft. Her eyes glowed ruby red in the dim light.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said and moved away.
Emma felt like she’d lost an ally but she was determined not to signal Jake. She had to trust Drake and his team. Jake stood tall and straight, very distinctive, even in a room filled with many powerful men. Whatever revelations Cathy was going to tell would not come with Jake close. She took a breath and made herself smile blandly up at the two hovering over her. Their eyes were hard, calculating, and she knew they were every bit the predator that Jake was.
Her breath caught in her lungs. She had the urge to run while she could. This was a society she didn’t want to understand or want to be part of. “You were looking for me?” she murmured softly, an encouragement to tell her more.
Trent shifted position just enough to block her view of Jake—or to block Jake’s view of her. The movement was subtle, but with Emma’s heightened awareness, she caught it.