Bridges Burned (Going Down in Flames #2)(73)

She’d rather help the staff do the dishes. “Isn’t it weird for me to thank them for coming when they don’t know who I am, and I don’t know them?”

“Everyone will know who you are. And you’ll know who they are because I’ll introduce you.”

“Sounds like fun,” she lied.

People filtered into the ballroom in an orderly line. Bryn did her best to smile and nod during the introductions. If her grandparents hadn’t been next to her, half the people wouldn’t have said anything to her except to call her mean names. This was going to be a fabulous evening.

Once everyone entered the room, her grandmother pointed to a table near the orchestra. “Let’s have a drink and enjoy the orchestra for a moment before your grandfather welcomes everyone.”

Hadn’t they just done that? Whatever. She followed her grandmother to the appropriate table, smiling at anyone who looked her way. A few smiled back; most pretended not to see her. Fine. Not like it mattered.

Once she made it to the table, a waiter came around with glasses of tea and wine. When the waiter asked which she would like, she said tea. Although if there ever was an occasion to start drinking alcohol, sitting in a ballroom where the friendliest face she’d see all night would be Jaxon’s definitely qualified.

Their table was set for eight. Name cards warning her who would be joining them would’ve been nice. “Who will sit with us?”

“Whoever we ask to sit with us.” Her grandmother scanned the room and gave a slight nod to someone. Bryn tried to figure out who her grandmother was communicating with. Lillith and Jaxon approached the table. Lillith beamed while Jaxon appeared wary. What was that saying about the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t know?

“You’ve outdone yourself this year,” Lillith said. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Her grandmother zeroed in on Jaxon. “Don’t you have anything to say?”

He froze for a second, and then regained his composure. “Did you commission the gold and diamond stars for the trees flanking the door?”

“I did.” Her grandmother smiled.

“They are works of art that I’m sure your friends will be copying for their own holiday celebrations.”

Number one: What orifice had Jaxon pulled that from? Number two: The freaking stars were made of actual diamonds and gold?

“Where’s Ferrin?” her grandmother asked.

Who cares? If they were lucky, he’d been unable to attend.

Jaxon’s eyes darted around like he was checking the room for exits. Like he’d rather be anywhere other than where he was. “Mother, why don’t I go let Father know where you’ll be sitting?”

“Your father knows where to find us.” Lillith touched Jaxon’s shoulder. “Why don’t you and Bryn go mingle with some of your friends?”

Jaxon arched an eyebrow at Bryn.

“Are you trying to telepathically communicate that my friends aren’t here?” Bryn asked.

“I didn’t say a word.” Jaxon managed to sound confused.

“Right.”

He pointed at Bryn’s head. “Why did you change your hair?”

She grinned at him. “Before you ask that, wouldn’t it be polite for you to tell me how lovely I look?”

Her grandmother puffed up with pride. “I knew my genes were in there somewhere.”

Bryn laughed.

Jaxon’s nostrils flared.

“Oh, come on. It was funny.” Why was he being such a jerk? Maybe she should throw him a bone. “I wanted to try something different with my hair for the ball.”

“Two colors rather than three was a good choice.”

If he didn’t knock off the attitude, she’d touch him, focus her Quintessence, and do her damnedest to turn his hair flamingo pink.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Jaxon said, “I see someone I need to speak to.”

“Young man, be the gentleman your mother raised you to be,” her grandmother said. “Go introduce my granddaughter to your social circle.”

Could Jaxon ignore a direct order from her grandmother? She didn’t think so. Her grandfather seemed to outrank Ferrin by age, if not by money, and the ability to scheme and blackmail his fellow Directorate members. It made sense that her grandmother would outrank Lillith and Jaxon.

“Fine.” Jaxon pasted a polite smile on his face. “Bryn, would you like to mingle?”

She’d rather eat cockroaches, but that didn’t seem like an answer her grandmother would appreciate. “Thank you. That sounds lovely.” This fake socialite crap wasn’t so hard after all. Lie through my teeth and I’m good to go.

As soon as they were a few feet from the table, out of the hearing of her grandmother, Bryn said, “So what does mingle mean? Small talk? Discussing how much money someone spent on their latest fur-lined yacht? Clue me in.”

“Why would anyone want a yacht lined with fur?”

“It was meant to be an absurd example.” She clipped off the end of the sentence where she referred to him as an idiot.

“Like a yacht with diamond chandeliers?” he asked.

“Yes. Why?”

They wove between tables toward Jaxon’s friend Quentin and several other Blues she didn’t recognize.