Page 88 of Bite Me

“Ms. Osborne, have you given any more thought to the Donor Gala?”

My grandfather’s words catch my attention.

“Oh, give thought, like . . . ?”

“We have an opening at the upcoming gala for donors, and I wanted to inquire to see if you’d be interested. You’re in a unique position and for more than just . . . culinary prowess. We’re talking legacy, building wealth for the future of your family, your children. Your children’s children. Your mother wasn’t interested. I believe she was already in love with your father at the time, but you’re untethered. Nothing is stopping you from attending.”

Oh, this bastard. I breathe through my nose to compose myself as searing anger works its way down my spine. Suddenly, I have no interest in dessert or whatever my brother is trying to ask me next.

“It’s . . . an arranged marriage?”

“Contractual. It’s all laid out in legal agreements. Many don’t live with their contracts. It’s purely an arrangement for blood, at great benefit to you.”

“I’m not sure that’s something I’d be interested in. I’d need to think about it.”

“Of course, no pressure. Just consider it. It may open doors for you.”

My brother pops the cork on another bottle, jolting me from my trance as he pours me another glass. How many has that been? Two? Three?

“Want to talk about it?” He motions to Emma.

“No. But you could be honest with me on why you’re here?”

“I’ve got a client meeting. Grandfather was interested in meeting them in person.”

The wine leaves my mouth bone dry as it goes down. Daniel’s a finance manager for our family and many other wealthy families in Vviveren. Grandfather was ecstatic when he discovered Daniel’s knack for numbers.

“One of your clients is interesting enough to bring here?”

“It’s for the gala. That’s all he told me.” He grabs the bottle and takes a long drink. “I’m surprised he didn’t tell you. What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

The more my brother talks to me, the less I can hear what my grandfather is asking Emma.

“Are you sure you’re thinking clearly? This isn’t like you. Untucked shirt. A hint of debauchery in the air. You’ve been having fun.” He drags a bowl of walnuts from the middle of the table and crunches a few between his teeth.

“You’ve been away a long time. How would you know?”

“Because the Dacre I knew didn’t play with toys or enjoy jokes. He just cooked happily with his little collar and bell. You look more relaxed than ever, and you reek of fun . . . And we all know where fun leads.” He cracks a walnut in one squeeze. It crumbles in his hand. “To ruin.”

There’s still time to fix this. Emma will reject the spot at the gala, and . . . I’ll think of a plan. A plan where I can keep Florence safe and keep Emma in my life. There’s gotta be a way. If I could just get a few minutes alone, I could—

“Ah, they’re here!” Daniel leaps from his seat after checking his phone, disappearing into the other room. Most of the culinary club members have left for the night (aside from the usual suspects, Verity and Luther, who are getting drunk and enjoying my grandfather’s attention when it isn’t on Emma). I expected Emma to leave, too, but she’s ready with question after question about my grandfather’s involvement in the culinary world.

Once a great chef, hungry and full of life, he hasn’t picked up a pan in a professional sense in at least thirty years. I’d say I don’t think he ever liked cooking, but I didn’t fabricate my childhood memories. To think there was once a time when I was excited to see him, and I’d count the minutes until he’d teach me another lesson. I feel so far away from that naive, hopeful child.

Emma laughs as she takes a sip of wine. She catches my eye momentarily.

I already know my grandfather’s tactics. I’ve seen him use them on many men and women. But before that, he used them on me.

He makes you think you mean something, that all your wants and hopes are his as well. As if he’d move the stars and the mountains for you. Then everything changes when he knows you trust him, and if he can’t gain that trust, he’ll force your hand. Fabricate it.

There’s a plethora of greetings as my brother returns, along with his client, who has a woman at his side. I assume it’s his wife until he follows Daniel back to his seat. There’s a long exchange of pleasantries, and I straighten in my seat when my grandfather whispers in Daniel’s ear. My brother’s smile disappears. He nods in obedient acceptance before making his way over to me with the woman at his side.

“Who is this? Your fiancée?” I ask.

I wobble from the wine when I stand.