Bridges Burned (Going Down in Flames #2)(74)

“Because your grandfather has one.”

What? “If that’s true, I’m going to learn how to drive it and leave it in a port somewhere as a donation to a charity for kids with cancer.”

Jaxon came to a dead halt. “Why would you do that?”

“Because anyone who has enough money to buy a yacht with diamond chandeliers has enough money to help people.”

“Why would dragons help humans when they could help other dragons?”

Whack. His question was like a Nerf bat upside the head. She’d been raised to believe she was human. Weird to think she no longer belonged in that category. Not like she’d try to explain that to Jaxon.

“I think you should help anyone who needs help, human or dragon. That’s beside the point. No one needs diamond chandeliers.”

“Your grandfather thinks otherwise, and I suggest you never repeat what you said to me in front of him or anyone else.”

They reached a gathering of three couples. Quentin was the only person Bryn recognized.

She smiled and nodded when people said hello. She smiled while the boys talked about what sports cars they hoped to get for Christmas. She smiled while the girls talked about platinum jewelry versus gold jewelry. Did she fit in either conversation? No. So she smiled and nodded and pretended to give a crap, because that’s what her grandmother wanted her to do.

When the orchestra started a song at full volume, everyone stopped talking and headed to their tables. She followed the Stepford maneuver, grateful to escape the boring conversation.

Once everyone was seated, her grandfather headed up to the stage and took a microphone. “Thank you all for coming this evening. In unsure times like these, it’s good to know who your friends are.” Polite applause sounded. All Bryn could think of was that war quote she’d heard in a movie, “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.” Was that what her grandfather was doing? More than likely he was showing off his exorbitant wealth. Later, she’d have to ask why her grandparents were the ones to host the ball. It must have some meaning. Probably “my bank account is bigger than yours.”

Her grandfather waited for the applause to die down. “I’d like to wish all of you a wonderful holiday season.” The orchestra flared to life again, and her grandfather bowed to more applause.

Rather than joining Lillith, Jaxon, her grandmother, and her, he walked over to a table where several men, including Ferrin, sat.

“Isn’t he sitting with us?” Bryn asked.

“He’ll join us later. It’s hard to keep his mind off business for long.” Her grandmother didn’t seem to mind.

Two women her grandmother’s age approached the table and asked to join them. There was the standard polite round of introductions. Then the women started to talk about the difficulty of hiring reliable caterers for the holiday. Yawn.

How had her mom put up with all this high-society crap? The stray thought made her heart ache.

Jaxon stared off into the distance while maintaining a polite smile and an occasional nod. He must have practiced this act from toddlerhood.

Since he was here, she might as well ask him how all this worked.

“Jaxon, what happens next?”

“What do you mean?”

She gestured in a circle to include the entire ballroom. “We eat, and then what happens?”

He looked like he was trying not to roll his eyes. “After everyone has eaten, there will be dancing. During that time, I will be hiding on the terrace behind a large plant. As will anyone who has any common sense.”

She laughed at the idea of him hiding behind the Christmas decorations. “Why hide? No one forces you to dance, do they?”

“Wait and see. Your grandmother will politely suggest you dance with someone so you can network with them. If Rhianna were here—”

The anger in his voice and the way he bit off the sentence made her heart hurt.

He cleared his throat and looked away. “Her parents dragged her off to Europe without allowing us to say good-bye.”

“I’m sorry.” She leaned in. “She’ll be back at school after the holiday break, won’t she?”

His eyes were hard and flat. “I’m not sure.”

Fire roared in her gut, and she tasted smoke in the back of her throat. What was happening to Rhianna and the other students who were now less than perfect was wrong.

She closed her eyes and took a slow measured breath, thinking about ice and snow and cold things to put out the fire. Setting her grandmother’s Christmas ball ablaze wouldn’t win her any favors.

Their food arrived. Bryn examined the plate of prime rib in front of her and checked to see what everyone else was doing. No one ate yet. Were they waiting for the entire ballroom to be served? Who knew? A better question, why hadn’t she chosen wine instead of tea?

Five minutes later, her grandmother picked up her fork and knife and cut into the entrée. Everyone else did the same. Out of the corner of her eye, Bryn saw people at other tables pick up their utensils. It was like a ripple effect.

Bryn chewed, nodded, and smiled. When the plates were cleared, she craved sugar cookies with icing. Every year, she and her mom would make sugar cookie dough and cut out candy canes and stars. Her dad would take small balls of dough and make lopsided snowmen whose appearance did not improve with baking.