Page 124 of Undone

Carson sets his drink down, examining the place cards with a sneer as he eyes me. “How cute, considering that’s the closest you’re gonna get.”

I don’t say anything. He can play whatever word games he wants, I know the truth. He’s scared of me; I can feel it every time I’m around him. He hides behind LaBlanc, enough that it makes me wonder what’s really there, what all he knows.

“Shouldn’t you be out there with your fiancée?” Holden nods to where Lily is standing with Liam on the dance floor, his little hands in hers, dancing next to Rhys and Sadie, though no one else is out there. Liam’s giggles are reverberating louder than the big band playing a pretty cover of “My Eyes Adored You.” It makes my chest warm, watching them. “Looks like you’ve got some competition.”

Carson doesn’t even bother to look, his attention now absorbed by something on his phone, an irritated breath blowing from his lips.

“I don’t really give a shit what that freak does.” He sighs, and my entire body tightens like a bow string, ready to snap. “She can cover herself in paint for all I care; the money is good.”

My teeth ache, jaw tired from the thick grinding I’m doing. Holden’s hand is on my leg, tight against my thigh like he’s preemptively restraining me from doing something stupid. At least, publicly.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Her inheritance.” Carson looks up from his phone then, meeting my eyes with a glinting smile. “C’mon, kid. LaBlanc bankrolled your entire life. You already know how this works.”

He sighs deeply, finishing off whatever he’s typing, before tossing his phone face down and taking his seat. “My only job is to keep her from killing herself.”

He says it like a joke. Like this entire thing is one big funny project, a checklist to the cash flow. Her inheritance . . . the words are ringing in my ears.

Right. Because in Christopher LaBlanc’s eyes, why would anyone willingly marry his daughter?

Stomach churning worse than before, I do start to stand, meeting the resistance of Holden’s heavy grip. He pinches me on the inner thigh, and I clench my teeth, smacking his hand away.

“Later,” he whispers. “We’ve got company.”

LaBlanc and the Harrises approach, as everyone takes their seats at Anna Koteskiy’s bidding.

Carson and LaBlanc speak quietly to each other, smiling, neither one bothering to help Lily or pull out her chair. But Lily doesn’t seem to notice, stepping quickly around them all to stand between Holden and me. She’s teetering in her heels—a walking hazard that tells me they are higher than normal and not boots, but it doesn’t do much in the way of her height, which means she only has to tip her head lower to meet our gazes.

“Paloma went home. She— She looked upset. Do you think maybe someone could take me to her?”

My brow dips. “Paloma went home?”

Lily nods. “And Bennett went with her. I’m . . . I’m really worried about her.”

Bennett was upset in the bathroom when I’d run into him earlier. I’d tried to help, but as usual I’d fucked that one up too. I shake my head.

“She’s probably fine, Lil. I saw Bennett in the bathroom, and he wasn’t doing great. Maybe they just needed some quiet time and didn’t want to eat the weird food.”

Her face sours. “Yeah, me neither.”

Holden laughs and blows Lily a kiss as she maneuvers to sit next to me. Carson takes Lily’s hand and presses a kiss to it, his eyes meeting mine like a taunt.

Lily doesn’t seem to notice; her eyes are on the floral arrangement and it’s only then I recognize it, why it seemed so similar.

She turns and yanks on my sleeve. “Peonies and blue delphiniums.”

I nod with a brighter smile than I’ve managed in maybe three and a half years. “Do you see what the other flower in there is?” Her eyes haven’t left the arrangement, categorizing the color carefully. “They’re lilies.”

It’s stupid that I missed it when we first walked up. I’ve got all three inked on my body.

“What are they?” Sahara asks, on the other side of Carson, her smile simple and polite. Lily looks over at her with a light blush.

“It’s— They’re . . . a painting. Small Bottle of Peonies and Blue Delphiniums. It’s one of my favorites of Van Gogh. Did you know he painted it on a card? He was learning and—”

“God, this again,” Carson mumbles. It’s under his breath, but loud enough that Lily immediately stops talking. But she doesn’t look incensed. She doesn’t look to Carson with fury or a snippy anger at being interrupted—the kind of look I prefer from her pretty features when I interrupt her or try to distract her.

This is shameful and entirely directed toward her dad.