Like a dumb-ass, I'd kept telling myself that surely, she was referring to my singing ability, which granted, was nothing special, even if Ididwin that one high school talent show with my rendition of some old Joni Mitchell song.
But last night, it wasn't just my mom's words that had me reaching for the limo door. It was the way she'd looked at me, like I was, well, meat actually.
Very juicy meat.
I shuddered at the memory.
Now, in Jax's office, I sat in stupefied silence, processing everything I'd just heard. After a long moment, I glanced down at the watch. "Wow. Seven minutes." I blew out a shaky breath. "Three minutes ahead of schedule, huh?"
When he made no immediate reply, I mumbled, "I guess I should thank you for telling me, assuming that I believe you."
He frowned. "Which you will if you're smart."
I stared at him.Talk about arrogant.
"And," he continued, "if you decide youdon'tbelieve me? Lemme know. I'll put you in touch with my sources."
His sources?I didn't even want to consider who those might be. "Regardless," I said, "I still don't like what you called her."
Across from me, he looked anything but contrite. "Is that so?"
I straightened in my seat. "Yes."
Was I being silly? Probably.But seriously, whowouldappreciate hearing their mom called such an awful word?
"Fair enough." His voice hardened. "AndIdidn't like what she was doing."
I gave Jax a long, sullen look. Obviously, he was no angel himself, so why washein a position to judge?
"Look," I said, "I don't know why she does it, but as long as it's consensual…" I sighed. "Well, I guess it's really none of my business." I paused. "Or yours either."
His expression darkened. "You think I give two shits who she fucks for cash?"
I stiffened. After everything he'd told me, his language shouldn't've been shocking, but somehow it was. I didn't appreciate itorhis tone, for that matter.
I shot back, "Well, you obviouslydocare, or you wouldn't be calling her names."
"I care," he said, "but not because of who she's fucking or what kind of money changes hands." His gaze locked onto mine. "I care, because she tried to drag you into it – her own fucking daughter." He gave a low scoff. "I mean, what the fuck?"
As I stared at him from the other side of his desk, it suddenly struck me that he no longer seemed like the society type at all.
At this moment, I couldn't even imagine him in a tux, even though I'd seen him wearing one with my own two eyes.
No. The guy sitting across from me was ten times more primitive, and I couldn’t help but think of how correct I'd been in sensing something darker lurking beneath his polished surface.
And yet, like a moth to the flame, and even in spite of my own anger, I was still undeniably drawn to him.
Yeah, me and every other girl.
Last night, I'd seen the way they'd all looked at him, likehewas the meat, andtheywere the hungry carnivores on the prowl.
Pushing aside that disturbing thought, I said, "Then why was Dominic at your party? I mean, you obviously don’t like him, so what am I missing?"
"A simple fact. It wasn't my party."
I shook my head. "So who's party was it? Your brother's?"
"No. It was Darla's."
