"And here I was," her mom said, "telling her only last week she'd never meet a nice man if she kept spending all that time watching old — ."
"So, what is it you've come here for?" Her dad ignored her mother's reproachful look and continued to glare at Duncan.
Duncan hesitated and glanced at Neva. Just for a moment, indecision touched his eyes. Then the shutters flashed back up, and her stomach began to churn painfully.
"There's an awards dinner next Saturday I have to attend. I've asked Neva to come back with me tonight and attend the dinner with me on Saturday."
Her dad didn't move, didn't blink. "And just where would she be staying?"
"With me."
She closed her eyes. The shit had just hit the fan.
Her mom laughed nervously. "In her own room, of course."
"No," Duncan breathed softly.
You couldn't even leave me that glimmer of respect, could you? She looked at him bitterly. Just what in hell have I done to you to deserve this sort of treatment?
You're a smart woman. You figure it out. His thoughts were as angry as hers. I'm sure it won't be that hard.
She stared at him. What on earth was he talking about? They'd never met before last night and, realistically, she was the only one who had the right to be angry. He was the one who had taken without giving. Who was still taking.
You could have said we were staying in separate rooms. It wouldn't have hurt.
I could have said we were going to the mansion and the dance tonight, too. Don't push, Neva.
Don't push? What a laugh. Pushing was all he was doing. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then turned to face the storm brewing on the other side of the room. It was a storm that would probably have happened eventually, but one she hadn't been prepared to face tonight. Certainly not with this man by her side.
"I absolutely forbid it," her mother said, voice flat.
"You can't forbid anything anymore," Neva replied. "I grew up a long time ago, Mother. Accept that fact and stop trying to control my life." Her words held a touch of bitterness that surprised them both.
Duncan squeezed her hand as if in encouragement. She wanted to rip her fingers free of his and smack him in the mouth, but she didn't, simply because she needed this charade to continue if she was to have any hope of her parents ever speaking to her again. Lord, if they found out her true destination was the dance at the mansion...
"And what of your sister?" her dad asked softly.
She raised her gaze to his. "She'll understand." But she wouldn't. Not this. But at least she'd be close enough to see Savannah, or talk to her telepathically when she did wake. "You're in charge of the Future's Committee, Dad. Like it or not, this is part of that future. It's not a sin to enjoy yourself before marriage." And as Ari was prone to saying, who bought a car without test driving it?
Not that she was buying anything but four days of misery and frustration.
Her dad didn't say anything, just walked out of the room. And that hurt deeper than anything she could have ever imagined. She blinked back the sting of tears and glanced at her mom.
"Please understand — "
"The only thing I understand," her mother cut in sharply, "is that you've decided to turn your back on everything we've taught you over the years." She thrust to her feet, a thin, disapproving figure. "I think you'd both better leave until your father and I calm down a little."
Neva stared at her for a moment, wondering if it were possible to hate anyone as much as she did Duncan right at that moment. Then she rose, gathered her handbag and that stupid parcel, and left.
The night air hit like a slap across the face. She took a deep breath, but the shuddering had begun and wouldn't stop.
She leaned her back against the wall of the diner, closed her eyes, hugged her arms across her body, and silently cried. For the loss of her parents' respect. For her own stupidity in ever thinking she could calmly waltz into the Sinclair mansion and come away unscathed.
For the fact that she still wanted Duncan more than she'd wanted any other man in her life, no matter how much she hated him.
The moon certainly had a lot to answer for.
He stopped in front of her, a warm but forbidding presence. She didn't look at him, didn't say anything to him. Nothing she said seemed to make one bit of difference to whatever his agenda was anyway, so why bother?