Bridges Burned (Going Down in Flames #2)(72)

It worked. The cherry-red stripe gave a nod to her parentage but managed to appear sophisticated rather than punk rockish. “Good call. I like it.”

“Me, too. Now come with me and we’ll pick some jewelry to go with your gown.”

Since Zavien had turned out to be a cowardly jerk, she’d stopped wearing the necklace he’d given her. The key with the protection charm Onyx gave her hung from a thin gold chain around her neck. The key itself was less than an inch long.

“I don’t like to take off my protection charm.” She followed her grandmother down the hall to a room that had a keypad rather than a doorknob.

Her grandmother entered a long series of numbers and the door popped open. “If you must wear it, I imagine we can find a way to conceal it.”

Bryn entered the room and stood with her mouth hanging open. It was a jewelry thief’s dream. Display cases full of necklaces, rings, earrings, and bracelets lined the walls. There were separate cases for diamonds, sapphires, emeralds, and rubies. “Holy crap. All of this is yours?”

“It’s been handed down through generations,” her grandmother said.

Bryn stood still, afraid if she touched anything an alarm would go off.

Her grandmother walked over to a case and retrieved an emerald necklace with stones the size of pennies. “I think this would look lovely with your gown.”

Bad idea. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t like it?”

“What? No. I love it. But I could lose it or break it or do something stupid with it. You shouldn’t trust me with something that valuable.”

“You’re being ridiculous. Nothing will happen to the necklace as long as you leave it on.”

Yeah, because weird crap didn’t happen to her on a regular basis. Still, the necklace was gorgeous. Bryn let her grandmother fasten it around her neck. The stones were cool at first, but they warmed to her body heat. She checked a nearby mirror. “I feel like a princess in a fairy tale.” Too bad fairy tales never ended well.

“You’ll need to take your other necklace off.”

Bryn unhooked the chain and removed the small gold key. Now what? The strapless bra she’d struggled into in order to wear this dress fit like a vise. She turned away from her grandmother and slid the key into her bra.

“I think I’m ready.” Wait a minute. “Besides keeping my elbows off the table and don’t chew with my mouth open, are there any rules I should know about?”

“Never disagree with someone even if they say something ridiculous, just smile and say, ‘That’s an interesting perspective,’ or ‘I’ve never thought of it that way.’”

“So, no shooting fireballs at anyone’s head?” She was only half joking.

“No. Not unless I request it.”

“That takes some of the fun out of it. Just so you know, if anyone insults my parents, I will fight back.”

“If anyone says something to offend you, come find me. I’ll have them escorted from the ball and have their names removed from next year’s guest list. In our social circles, this ball is the highlight of the season. A threat from me will carry far more weight than the threat of a fireball from you.”

“Yes, but shooting a ball of flames at them would make me feel much better than having them banned from your party.”

“No fireballs in the house,” her grandmother said. “The only exception is if you’re defending yourself.”





Chapter Twenty-Eight


Christmas trees decorated with poinsettia flowers flanked the door to the ballroom. Each tree had a gold star at the top that sparkled in the light. Inside the ballroom, round tables were scattered around two-thirds of the room, while the center of the floor was left open for dancing. Not that anyone would ask her to dance. She should’ve invited Valmont.

An orchestral version of “Deck the Halls” played softly in the background. Correction. The orchestra on the stage at the far side of the room played “Deck the Halls.” All the instruments appeared to have dampers on them. If her grandfather didn’t want the music to be loud, why didn’t he hire a smaller group of musicians? Wait. She knew the answer. In her grandfather’s world, bigger, which meant more expensive, was better.

Bryn felt someone staring at her. She tuned back in to her surroundings and realized her grandmother was waiting for a response. “It’s beautiful.”

A smile of pride lit her grandmother’s face. “I’m glad you like it.”

If her grandmother had been a Red dragon, she would’ve been an interior decorator. Since she didn’t need to work, she threw fabulous, well-decorated parties instead.

“It’s tradition for us to greet the guests as they enter.” Her grandmother headed back to stand a dozen feet inside the doorway.

“Does that we include me?” Please say no.

“It most definitely does.” Her grandmother pointed to the space next to her.

Great. Bryn took up her appointed post. “What do I do?” If this involved any of that weird air-kissing like they showed on television when rich people got together, she was out.

“If you were a man, you’d shake everyone’s hand. Since you’re not, you hold your hands clasped at your waist, smile at everyone, and thank them for coming.”