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.

a bit.

had long turned to dust, incapable of being

turning to him and linking her arm through his mother’s. “I didn’t know you would be attending the gala

“Hello, Adalyn.”

he’d lie just for

two of them existed in the crowded ballroom of

chimed in, patting Adalyn’s hand. “We’ve missed you, too. I was

party for next week. You and your parents

but something seemed...off. Too jovial. Too

Too false.

and rage roiling inside him like a noxious cloud. “You don’t think this is a little

from woman to woman, behaving like a male whore,” she

fingers when he visited his grandmother’s horse farm as

smirk, he bowed slightly at the waist. “Thank you, Mother. Now tell me what you really think because I

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