Page 60 of Willowbrooke
“I can make some introductions if you’d like,” Leo offered.
I didn’t want to leave his side; I felt overwhelmed and anxious at the thought of being on my own, but the closer we stuck together, the more people would talk…the more likely rumors were to develop and spread.
“Goodness, the two of you clean up nicely.” Margot found us before I could reply to Leo. “Darling, you look radiant in blue—what a spectacular choice.”
I blushed, not because of the compliment, but because it was Leo that had chosen both the color and the gown on my behalf, thanks to Mina’s excellent taste and knowledge of my lack of fashion expertise.
“Thank you, Margot.” I smiled.
“I’m stealing your date,” Margot informed Leo.
Leo opened his mouth to answer his aunt, but the wordsdied on his lips as she whisked me away before he could get out a single syllable.
For the next hour or so, I shook hands with countless people, and was pleasantly surprised by Margot’s flattering description of the work I had done at Willowbrooke. I hadn’t expected her to become somewhat of a champion for my skills, but I was thankful for the opportunity and access to her immense network.
Leo and I were seated next to each other at dinner, which became more challenging than necessary when he’d occasionally and very much intentionally brush against me under the table. He knew I couldn’t admonish him in front of others. I think he enjoyed the fact that I was helpless to stop him. I resolved to find a way to retaliate later.
After dinner, people resumed mingling, some couples made it to the dance floor, and I excused myself to the bathroom to take a moment for myself, feeling more than buzzed from the amount of champagne I had inadvertently consumed. The waiters had just kept replacing my glass, and I’d lost count of how many I’d imbibed.
Returning to the ballroom, I spotted Leo at the bar being chatted up by none other than Margot’s surprise guest from the house a few weeks prior: Miss Hawthorne. She wore a stunning, shimmering black gown that hugged every curve; the two of them looked quite the pair. With her long dark hair cascading down her back in gentle waves, I thought she reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t place who exactly.
Miss Hawthorne was right up against Leo, her hand on his chest, giggling as she flirted with him quite ostentatiously. Leo listened to her speak, giving her a polite smile, clearly not very interested in the story she was telling, but he made no attempt to brush her off or put distance between the two of them.
I heard Adam’s voice in my head: “Don’t be so petty—men are allowed to be friends with other women.”
The fact that watching them together made me feel even a hint of animosity made me immediately insecure. I didn’t want to be the Penny I had been with Adam. I couldn’t go back there. And Leo had given me zero reason to believe he’d do anything like that—in fact he’d more than proven to me that he was much more mature, considerate, and kind than Adam was ever capable of being.
Still, watching the two of them interact made me uneasy. She was the type of woman he belonged with, from the right circles, the right family, the right kind of wealth. I merely worked for him.
Interrupting my downward spiral, Margot gently tapped on the microphone, signaling the party to quiet so she could give her speech with everyone’s full attention.
Margot began by sharing an anecdote about her and George from when they’d been kids, trying to demonstrate how charity had always been something he had been fond of, painting him as a saint and conveniently showcasing herself in the same light.
She then went on to describe how the charity benefiting from donations that night, one that helped entrepreneurs and small business owners in third world countries, was so dear to George’s heart and how it only felt right that this now-annual event be part of his legacy.
Margot pulled out a piece of paper at the end to offer words of appreciation to those who had donated for the gala, went out of their way to attend, and lastly, the few who helped her plan the event. There was one name mentioned that caught me off guard, the last of her list of helpers.
“And I would be remiss not to finally acknowledge my co-chair, Quinn Hawthorne.” Margot smiled, her eyes meeting Quinn’s, still at the bar, sidled up next to Leo, even closer than before.
My blood ran cold.
Miss Hawthorne was Quinn—Leo’s Quinn—his ex.
“Quinn and I met a few years ago. She’s helped me through a tremendous amount of challenges in my life and has been wise beyond her years in the advice and comfort she’s given me. I’m so glad that she’s found a lifelong partner in my nephew, her fiancé, Leo West. George would be so proud of the bright future you’ll share together. Cheers!” Margot held up her glass of champagne, and the crowd applauded.
I felt like I was going to be sick.
I looked back to the bar, but Leo and Quinn were gone.
I needed to talk to Leo.
It couldn’t be true—Margot had to be mistaken, ormaybe it had been wishful thinking on her part, that they would get back together.
He wouldn’t do that to me…would he?
I frantically searched the ballroom with no luck. Feeling the panic rising, I sought out somewhere I could be alone, just for a moment, to calm down.
I ended up sitting in the bathroom for twenty minutes, focusing on my breathing to try to relax, although it was a rather pointless exercise. My head was spinning from the champagne and the dark thoughts winding their way through me along with the alcohol.
