her head, begging her to say it. But she couldn’t. Because part of her—that lonely, pregnant woman who’d felt betrayed by the man she’d loved—had meant every festering word.
“At least we know where we stand with each other,” Ross finally said into the thick, deafening silence. “Here.” He dropped the necklace on the island, the pendant clacking against the marble top. “I wouldn’t want you to lose it.” Turning on his heel, he strode toward the closet door. And she curled her fingers into her palms, convincing herself she didn’t want to stroke the rigid line of his spine. Or brush a caress over the perfectly cut hair above the collar of his shirt. “Let me know when you’re ready. We can’t be late,” he instructed without glancing back at her.
Then he disappeared through the door, leaving her alone.
Except for the echo of her cruel words.
Twelve
“How’re you enjoying yourself, Charlotte?” Billy Holmes appeared at her elbow, holding two glasses of wine.
Giving Ross’s friend and business partner a smile, she accepted one of the flutes and immediately sipped. Alcoholic fortification was an absolute must to get through this night.
“What’s not to enjoy?” she replied, glancing around the crowded, cavernous great room.
Whoever Ross and Billy hired to decorate needed a fat tip. The designer had turned what could’ve been an austere room with its cross-beamed cathedral ceiling and dark wood floors into a winter wonderland. White lights and flowers with boughs of greenery wound around tall pillars and along the massive fireplace. Crystal centerpieces adorned the round tables and mini trees painted white, and entwined with more lights, added an almost fairy-tale air. And strategically placed in all that ethereal beauty were brochures, pamphlets and even samples from Soiree on the Bay’s attending vendors, sponsors and the charities benefiting from the donations. Before she’d left work earlier, she’d overseen the samples from Sheen—an Alaskan king crab cake with a sweet and spicy roulade sauce and squares of ham, feta and sweet potato quiche. Last time she’d checked, there’d only been a few dishes left of each.
As if reading her mind, Billy murmured, “Great wine. Great food.” He cocked his head. “Your samples have disappeared, and dinner hasn’t even been served yet. I’d claim that as a ringing endorsement of Sheen and its chef. Congratulations.” He toasted her with his glass and grinned, his blue eyes gleaming. “Far be it from me to brag, but I unashamedly accept full credit for bringing you into the fold.”
Charlotte chuckled. “Well, I’m so glad you’re above an ‘I told you so,’” she drawled. “I admit, I had my reservations about joining the festival, but they’ve mostly been laid to rest. This is a great move for Sheen.”
“And for you, Charlotte,” Billy added, briefly cupping her elbow before dropping his arm back to his side. “A restaurant is only as strong as its chef, and your reputation as an extraordinary culinary artist precedes you. So thank you for taking a leap with us.”
She nodded, unsure how to respond to the outpouring of praise. Ross’s words from earlier floated through her head. Consider this a training ground for the future. According to him, she belonged here, receiving compliments as her due.
Of course, that had been before the blowup that had decimated all the ground they’d recovered.
Billy cleared his throat, and stared down into his glass, lightly swirling the wine. “Charlotte,” he murmured, lifting his head to meet her gaze. “I don’t mean to pry, but Ross is my best friend. And I can’t help but notice there seems to be some—” he hesitated “—distance between you two tonight. Is everything okay?”
The “We’re fine” danced on her tongue, but it lodged in her throat, the lie refusing to be uttered. Instead, she avoided that concerned scrutiny under the pretense of surveying the room. And inevitably, her perusal landed on Ross. Surrounded by his brother, sister and a small crowd, he appeared to be the charming, charismatic playboy she’d always known. Not a care in the world. As she watched, a beautiful brunette in a slinky gold dress inched up to his side and laid a hand on his arm. He bowed his head over her, and—
Nope. She turned away, raising her glass for a healthy gulp of wine. Not even going to do it to herself.
“That’s the daughter of one of our largest investors besides The Edmond Organization. Believe me, there’s nothing inappropriate going on between them,” Billy said, his gentle tone almost painful.
Was she that obvious?
How could Ross’s