Jenna Black - Dark Descendant

“Do you really think I’m that stupid?”

She bit her lip and shook her head, though I could tell she wasn’t entirely convinced. If someone like Maggie, who’d given me the benefit of the doubt since day one, thought finding the ring made me look guilty, I didn’t want to imagine how someone like Jamaal would take it.

“Maggie, I swear to you, I just found it in the pot. You said this was Emma’s plant. Maybe she repotted it and lost her ring in the dirt on the day she disappeared.” According to Anderson, no one was sure exactly when Emma was captured. She’d apparently been prone to storming out in a huff when she and Anderson argued, and it had been hours before anyone had realized she wasn’t anywhere in the house or on the grounds. “Maybe she was pissed at Anderson and hid the ring there so she could pretend she tossed it or pawned it—without having to actually toss it or pawn it.”

“That does sound like something Emma would do,” Maggie agreed. “Maybe it happened exactly that way. But maybe it didn’t.”

“I’m not one of the Olympians.”

Her look of polite skepticism hurt. She’d been the closest thing I had to a friend in this house, and it sucked to lose her over something like this.

“Are you going to tell Anderson about this?” I asked. “I haven’t done anything wrong, but my job’s going to be a lot harder if he starts being all suspicious again.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I really should tell him. He has a right to know. And I’m sure he’d want the ring back.”

“I’m not asking you to keep him in the dark forever,” I assured her. “I just need a little more time to locate Emma, and I won’t be able to do that if Anderson decides I’m a spy after all.”

“How much time?”

That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? Should I take the finding of the ring as some kind of good sign? I had no way of knowing.

What I did know was that Maggie wasn’t going to keep her mouth shut forever.

“Give me one week,” I said, wondering if the ticking clock was going to make the job even harder. “If I haven’t found her in a week, I’ll talk to Anderson myself.”

Maggie thought about it a minute, then nodded. “All right. You have one week. Make it count.”

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.

Despite the looming deadline, Wednesday night rolledaround, and I reluctantly got ready for Steph’s charity auction. I’d held out a faint hope that our fight would get me out of it, but no. Steph called and informed me in no uncertain terms that I was going. She seemed content to pretend our fight had never happened, and I was happy to go along with it.

I wore the admittedly nondescript little black dress I’d bought on our shopping trip and a pair of stiletto-heeled pumps that would have my feet hurting in fifteen minutes flat. Remembering Steph’s gorgeous red dress, I knew I was going to spend most of the night feeling like one of the ugly stepsisters from a fairy tale. I’d have to try to keep to myself as much as possible, because I wasn’t exactly feeling like Little Miss Sunshine.

I left the house around six thirty to get to the pre-dinner cocktail party. That would be the most painful part of the evening—I wasn’t a big fan of mingling with the rich and snooty. But I knew Steph would want me there the whole time, and I’d have done just about anything to smooth the waters. Even stand around in high heels drinking cocktails and talking to people with whom I had nothing in common.

The country club that was hosting Steph’s auction reminded me a bit of Anderson’s mansion, if only in its attempt to hide from the sight of passers-by. There was even a set of gates—though these were usually kept open and were more ornamental—and an artificial forest lining the driveway. The “forest” was as well-manicured as the one at the mansion, devoid of the weeds and underbrush that would accompany natural growth. The driveway, however, was a lot straighter, and there were actually streetlamps to guide the way.

The patch of woods didn’t last long, giving way to the inevitable golf course. This being the height of winter, it was already too dark for even the most fanatical of golfers, so at least I didn’t have to dodge golf carts on my way in. There was convenient valet parking if I drove right up to the clubhouse, but I chose to park myself in one of the outer lots. It meant an uncomfortable walk in my high heels, but by the time the night was over, the last thing I would want to do was wait for someone to retrieve my car for me.

The glittering crowd was just starting to trickle in as I headed into the bar and lounge area. My eyes were immediately drawn to Steph in her fire-engine-red dress. She looked even more fabulous than usual, with her blond hair swept into an elegant up-do and her long neck adorned by a pearl and diamond necklace.

Standing right beside Steph, with a proprietary hand resting on her lower back, was Blake. I had to admit, he looked good enough to eat in his conservative black tux, the perfect Ken to Steph’s Barbie. I didn’t like the way he was touching her, though, not one bit. Despite Blake’s promise that he would behave like a gentleman, I was all too aware of the malice that lurked beneath his cultured exterior. He was a dangerous man who used sex as a weapon. Was it any shock I didn’t want him around my sister?

Steph caught sight of me while I was giving Blake the evil eye. I tried to blank my expression as she made her way across the room toward me, Blake following in her wake. She stopped right in front of me and smiled brilliantly, and I wondered if she’d thought I was going to stand her up. Sad to say if I had, it wouldn’t have been the first time. Have I mentioned how much I hate these affairs?

“You look gorgeous!” Steph said, giving me a warm hug. She was busy enough hugging me not to see the way Blake rolled his eyes at her words.

Steph released me from the hug, then looked back and forth between me and Blake. His expression was one of polite disinterest. I have no idea what my own face looked like. I hoped my flush of embarrassment had faded. Bad enough to be pathetically insecure about my looks, but to have others know it was almost unbearable.

“I take it you two know each other,” Steph said with a raise of her eyebrows. I could tell by the sparkle of curiosity in her eyes that Blake hadn’t made up a story about how we’d met. Which was a good thing, since I’d have had no idea what the cover story was and would probably have blown it the moment I opened my mouth.

“We’ve met,” Blake said drily, but he held out his hand for me to shake.

It felt like a challenge, so I didn’t hesitate. Of course, he then lifted my hand to his mouth and kissed my knuckles. It was all I could do not to jerk my hand out of his grip and make a scene.

“Charming,” I muttered under my breath, and he laughed softly at this evidence that he’d gotten to me.

Steph kept looking back and forth between us, no doubt hoping one of us would cave and tell her how we knew each other. She knew, of course, that I didn’t like Blake, but Blake wasn’t giving any overt signs of how he felt about me. Not signs that Steph could read, that is.

Blake held on to my hand a little longer than necessary, and Steph looped her arm through his, forcing him to let go. Her action might have been subtle, but I knew beyond doubt she’d done it because I looked uncomfortable.

“We still have some serious mingling to do,” she said, and I was just as happy to let her and Blake go.

I hoped the look in my eyes gave Blake the message that I would feed him his balls if he hurt my sister. There was no way of telling from the little smirk on his face as he and Steph stepped away into the burgeoning crowd.