The Knight (Endgame #2)(49)

I take a fortifying sip, the bubbling liquid cool down my throat.

Damon Scott appears at Gabriel’s side with a genial smile. “Quite a turnout.”

“Your father always had a flair for the dramatic,” Gabriel responds drily.

“I come by it honest,” Damon says, flashing me a wink. “Avery. You’re looking absolutely beautiful. Even more than usual, if you don’t mind me saying so. What are you doing with this ugly motherfucker?”

The standoff at the Den sits between the three of us, pulsing with tension. “I told him I was coming tonight no matter what, and he came to protect me.”

Damon blinks. “That doesn’t sound like the Gabriel I know.”

“Maybe you don’t know him that well.”

A startled laugh. “Well, well,” Damon says. “Tonight should be very interesting.”

“I thought you’d already know the outcome.”

He gives me a carefree grin that belies his words. “Not a clue. Didn’t Gabriel tell you? I haven’t spoken to my father in thirty years. I’m here as a spectator.”

I can only stare after him, because there’s no way he’s older than forty. Not even close. The last time he spoke to his father, he was only a small child. But he came to this ball, where he might speak to him. Where he might confront him. Oh no, he’s more than a spectator. He’s a participant, caught in the same web as me. I just don’t know how.





Chapter Thirty-Two





Gabriel told me the upside to his presence was that people tend to tell the truth. They also tend to be kind, smiling and complimenting my dress despite the glint in their eyes. They don’t dare make a cutting remark in front of him, but they whisper as soon as we move on.

My insides feel wobbly, but I force myself to smile. This was my home, my mother’s home. She wore grace and confidence until her final moments. That’s what I’ll do too.

I won’t give them the satisfaction of breaking in front of them.

Still it’s a relief when Ivan and Candy cross the room to meet us. Ivan looks stern and forbidding in a gray suit. Candy looks like a princess in a pale pink dress that wraps around her breasts and falls in flowing silk. Around her neck is a necklace with a pendant shaped like a key and studded with diamonds. I have some idea of what that key represents in their relationship, and I blush.

Candy smiles, knowing and serene. “Hello, Avery.”

“Candy.” I put my hands on my cheeks in a vain attempt to cool them. “You look lovely, as always.”

She turns to Gabriel, studying him with a critical eye. “The past thirty days have been good to you.”

“Beyond measure,” he replies in a cordial manner. “Ivan. I’m surprised to see you both here.”

The gray-eyed man nods. “It’s a little past her bedtime, but I’m occasionally generous.”

“Ivan, did you just make a joke?” Candy grins. “I think I’m rubbing off on him. Well, more than I usually do. Which I have to admit is quite often.”

I swear my cheeks are about to catch fire. How does Gabriel look so calm, only mildly amused by her innuendo? The couple exudes sexuality. I think I get ten degrees hotter just being near them.

Candy giggles at my expression.

My nose scrunches. “You enjoy embarrassing me, don’t you?”

“Very much.” She grows serious. “The truth is I wanted to be here in case you need my support.”

I glance at Gabriel. “He won’t let anything happen to me.”

Candy tucks herself against Ivan. “I know that, but I meant emotional support. Our men can be a little…stiff, if you know what I mean.”

Damn it, I’m blushing again.

The corner of Gabriel’s mouth tilts up. He runs the back of his hand against my cheek, feeling the heat there. His hand is blessedly cool. “Beautiful,” he murmurs.

“Yes,” Ivan says, though his agreement is more of a clinical appraisal. “And no longer yours, if I read the calendar correctly.”

“We still have tonight,” I say, feeling defensive.

Except we all know that tonight isn’t for fun. This is a night for turning over rocks, for finding out what’s been underneath them all along. Shining light into the dark places of my family. A chess match with all the pieces lined up.

A hush falls over the crowd.

I look at the door, and my breath sucks in. Standing in the tall entryway to the ballroom is a man wearing a suit, his hair combed neatly, leaning heavily on a cane. My father.

“No,” I whisper.

How can he even be here? He was in the nursing home, barely able to move. He can’t be walking. He can’t be here. Someone would have had to help him. But why?

My mind swerves away from the implications. He came here to face Jonathan Scott like Gabriel predicted. Out of pride, out of love. Or some darker impulse?

The music continues to play. No one told them our personal tragedy is stealing the show, so the sweet strains filter through a shocked crowd, the band playing on the deck of a sinking Titanic.

He couldn’t have killed Mama. He couldn’t have—

Geoffrey St. James studies the crowd with an unreadable expression. I hold on to Gabriel’s arm tight enough I must be hurting him, but he doesn’t flinch. I’m doing it to keep myself from running to my father, fighting the impulse to help him walk. How is he even doing it?