Page 90 of Legally Mine

"If you say so," he said. "I don't know. I just...I smell a rat."

"And what about you?" I asked, nudging his shoulder. "Do I need to be guarding you against all of these vicious predators?"

Eric just snorted and polished off his champagne. We gave our glasses to a server and went to find our seats. The Sterling tables had all been set with name tags. Brandon hadn't arrived yet, but he was placed next to several other names I recognized: Mark Grove, a few of the other equity partners at Sterling Grove, and some political heavy hitters around Boston. I, however, had been relegated to the table full of younger associates with Eric. I wasn't surprised by the arrangement, but it still hurt. A lot.

Across the room, I spotted Kieran, who stood with a small circle of men dressed in suits. Unlike most of the other women in the room, she had eschewed a formal dress in favor of a fitted white tuxedo with a blazing ruby brooch, the same color as her lips, pinned to her lapel. Her dark hair was pulled back as severely as ever. She stood out as much for her confidence as for her unusual formalwear.

She waved briefly, clearly surprised to see me, then returned to her conversation. I wilted a little in my seat. I don't know what I had been expecting. I wasn't Kieran's friend; I was her subordinate, and someone who should probably be at home studying for the bar, not socializing at fancy events.

Nearly three hours later, I was drunk. Dinner had come and gone, speeches and donations had been made, and Eric had finally left so he could get up early to study. I hadn't seen Janette and Maurice the entire evening; they were too busy hobnobbing with Boston's elite to bother. So much for seeking redemption. The most elite of them all, my "date" who wasn't really my date, was still nowhere to be seen.

Eric offered to share a cab, but I had demurred, saying I'd wait for another thirty minutes before going home. That, unfortunately, had left me little else to do but sip on continuous glasses of champagne. It had been an hour since then.

I'd left my phone at home, not having been able to fit it into the tiny purse, which could barely hold my lip gloss, some cards and cash, and my bracelet. Watching Janette dance with one of the lesser Red Sox after Maurice disappeared, I sat at my table, feeling very sorry for myself. I pulled the silver bracelet out of my clutch and toyed with it, running my fingers over the engraving. It only made me feel more alone. What was I even doing here?

"Skylar?"

I turned around to see another surprising, yet familiar face.

Dressed in black-tie attire, Jared looked a far sight from the preppy student from class. It actually made perfect sense that he would be here, considering his family's roots in Boston society and politics.

"What are you doing here?" I asked anyway, my words slightly slurring as I accepted his kiss on my cheek.

Jared, clearly having had a few drinks himself, didn't seem to care that I was so shocked. He looked me over with obvious appreciation.

"That's, um, a dress, Skylar."

I glanced down. Everything was mostly in place, but in my inebriated state, the slit of the gauzy fabric had opened clearly to reveal most of my left leg as it was crossed over my right. Maybe it was because at that point, I was fairly furious with being stood up, but the show of skin didn't bother me. I made no move to close the fabric.

"You look bored," Jared said as he sat down next to me. His glance flickered to my leg again, but came right back up to look me in the eye and didn't move. "I saw that you came with Eric, but then he left. Are you waiting for someone?"

He quirked an eyebrow, and it was obvious that he wanted me to admit that I was here for Brandon. But no one was supposed to know that. Plus, Brandon wasn't even here.

"No," I said finally and tipped back the remainder of my sixth glass of champagne. "I came with my mother and her husband too, but they seem to be preoccupied. I was actually going to leave soon."

I stood up abruptly, but had to grab the table as blood rushed from my head. I brushed out the creases of my dress, which fell more modestly around my legs again, then glanced around for my clutch to put the bracelet back in it. The movement caused my head to spin a little.

When I finally straightened up again, I found Jared standing too, looking somewhat amused.

"You all right there?" he asked.

"I'm fine," I said with enough effort that I swayed a little.

"Well, then you can't leave without giving me a dance first," Jared said, putting a hand at my elbow to steady me. "Do me the honor? I'll go slow, I promise."

I looked at the hand and then back up at him. Jared actually looked amazing. He wore a standard black tux and had brushed his light brown hair back, and the effect made him look a little like James Bond. He smirked at my obvious appraisal.

"Only if it's really slow," I agreed.

I set my clutch on the table and allowed him to lead me to the dance floor, which was starting to clear out. The more powerful people had adjourned for back room dealing, and everyone else was wilting from the champagne. Jared pulled me securely, but not indecently, against him, settled a hand at my waist, and began to lead me around the floor in a tepid box step. He wasn't a terrible dancer––certainly better than me.

"So, don't take this the wrong way," he said as he turned me under his arm. "But whoever decided to let you sit at that table by yourself was an idiot. You and Eric haven't..."

"No," I said quickly. "Still just roommates."

"And your mom doesn't seem too interested in keeping you company because..."

I rolled my eyes as he pulled me close again. Jared was taller than I realized: over six feet. Not as muscular as Brandon, but he still filled out his tuxedo.