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.
hadn’t changed a bit. But he
embers had long turned to
“I didn’t know you would be
“Hello, Adalyn.”
if he’d lie just for the sake
murmured as if 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
love that idea,” his mother chimed in, patting Adalyn’s hand. “We’ve missed you, too.
week. You and your parents are invited. I’ll call your mother
benign, but something seemed...off. Too
Too false.
distaste and rage roiling inside him like a noxious cloud. “You don’t
when you insist on flitting from woman to woman, behaving like a male whore,” she snapped, and no, it wasn’t the first time he’d heard those
insult 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
into a mocking smirk, he bowed slightly at the waist. “Thank you, Mother. Now tell me what
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