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“Nicholas! I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” An older man had stepped beside Dad and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Francis!” Dad exclaimed. “Great that you could make it. Can I offer you a glass of wine? But now I remember—you always preferred scotch, right?”

My father nodded to us again before guiding his business partner toward the bar.

“That wasn’t bad at all,” Kaden said, leaning his arms on the table in front of us.

“Mh hm,” I responded, unable to evaluate this encounter. Yes, Dad had met Kaden—but did he also understand that I hadn’t come here as a favor for him and Mom. Quite the opposite? I thought my outfit and Kaden’s tattoos would make it pretty clear on their own, but that hadn’t worked. Frowning, I put down my champagne glass and rubbed my finger around its edge till it squeaked.

For an hour, the chairs of this year’s charitable organization gave their welcoming speeches, but I hardly heard a word. First of all, people from my old life kept on coming over to us, fawning over me and eyeing Kaden with curiosity. And secondly, Kaden was doing everything he could to make this experience bearable. What did make me laugh was how he invented the wildest possible scandals involving some of the guests.

“That guy over there is Alexander McTalman,” he said, nodding toward an older man who was unknown to me. He was incredibly tall, wore a plaid suit and was unobtrusively scratching his crotch. “He’s a Scottish Lord who’s upset that he can’t wear a kilt today. You can see, he feels kind of cramped.”

“Your imagination is incredible,” I said with my mouth full. We’d collected a mountain of snacks on our table, since we were too hungry to wait for the real food.

“That woman over there is Sabrina Miller-Fishbury. She’s president of the golf club for underage criminals, and she’s having an affair with Lord McTalman.” Her hair was combed back so tightly that her face seemed stretched. A kind of natural face-lift that might work for my mother as an alternative to the massive amounts of Botox she had injected into her. “But Mrs. Miller-Fishbury is stuck in an unhappy marriage with Mr. Fishbury, whose hair growth cream stopped working.”

Kaden was looking at a pretty short guy who had plopped a toupee over the remnants of his real hair. I laughed aloud and covered my mouth, hoping no one had noticed.

“Your turn,” said Kaden with a happy grin.

He was making the best of our situation and didn’t complain once. So I didn’t mind taking part in his silly game. Looking around for my next victim, an invented story was on my lips when—

I saw him.

And my heart stopped.

The way he held himself, his straight, strong profile. His wavy brown hair, with a few gray streaks. I would have recognized Russell Anderson anywhere.

I couldn’t breathe, and started to black out. I grabbed the table to keep from falling.

Our eyes met. For a moment, he looked surprised; then a delighted smile spread across his face.

I felt sick.

He shook the hand of the person he was talking to, then turned and walked toward us.

I might throw up any second.

“Allie?” Kaden asked, but his words didn’t reach me.

He came closer. And then he was standing in front of me. His bitter aftershave penetrated my nostrils, making me nauseated.

“Crystal.”

What I wanted to do was spit in his face, punch and kick him. But as usual I was paralyzed in his presence. He leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek, keeping his mouth close to my ear. “How lovely to see you,” his warm, moist breath made my stomach curdle.

I pressed my lips together. Without reciprocating, I stared straight ahead, hands clenched, trying to avoid his arrogant smile. Or how his eyes wandered greedily over my body, as usual.

“College life has been good for you, I see,” he announced, pleased.

I folded my arms across my chest, as if I could shield myself from his hungry gaze. Kaden took a step closer to me and placed his hand on my back.

“And who do we have here?” Anderson asked, his voice dripping with disapproval.

This tore me out of my trance, and I looked up.

“This is my boyfriend, Kaden White.” I didn’t even know how I managed to get those words out so firmly. Autopilot must have kicked in. “Kaden, this is—”