From Boardroom to Bedroom
Chapter 54
She parted her lips, but after a second snapped them closed. Oh yes. Only proper decorum and being potential fodder for gossip trumped getting in the last word.
“Cherise, it’s so wonderful to see you again,” a feminine voice intruded.
The pleasant, soft tone shouldn’t have scraped him raw, leaving an oily slide of disgust. He didn’t need to glance behind him to identify the woman. He’d be able to identify that dulcet tone, that light floral scent anywhere.
Identify it, then crucify it.
“Adalyn,” his mother crooned, a smile erasing her frown as she moved toward Adalyn Hayes with outstretched arms. “Don’t you look beautiful?”
Grayson shifted to the side, studying his mother as she warmly embraced his ex-girlfriend. The woman who’d almost become Mrs. Grayson Chandler.
The woman who’d stabbed him so deeply in the back he still had phantom pains from the scar a year and a half later.
She hadn’t changed at all. Still stunningly beautiful with oval-shaped green eyes, delicate features, pretty mouth and long sleek hair as dark as a raven’s wing—or as dark as her heart. A midnight blue gown that glittered as if stars had been sewn into it clung to her small breasts and willowy frame before flowing over slender hips to pool around her feet.
changed a bit.
him. Those embers had long turned to dust, incapable of
purred, turning to him and linking her arm through his mother’s. “I didn’t know you would be attending
“Hello, Adalyn.”
lie just for
his mother had disappeared and just the two of them existed in the crowded ballroom of the North Shore mansion. “We need to get together for dinner and catch up with
idea,” his mother chimed in, patting
parents are
something seemed...off. Too jovial. Too
Too false.
Mother?” he asked, infusing a boredom into his tone that didn’t reflect the cacophony of distaste and rage roiling inside him like a noxious cloud. “You don’t think
woman to woman, behaving like a male whore,” she snapped, and no, it wasn’t the first time he’d
pricked him like the cockleburs that would sting his fingers when he visited his grandmother’s horse farm as a child. Back then, he’d plucked them off and rubbed away the nip of pain. Now, with his ex
slightly at the waist. “Thank you, Mother. Now tell
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