Dylan (Inked Brotherhood 4)

I shake my head. Donations are out of the question. My parents are the ones with the money, not me. Every cent I spend is controlled.

He frowns at me. “What did you have in mind?”

“Do you need volunteers? At your HQ here, I mean. I’d love to help.”

His small eyes widen. Then his face creases in a smile. “That’d be an honor, Miss Leon.” Smoothly he takes a business card from the breast pocket of his tailored suit and offers it to me. “Give me a call, and we will arrange it.”

I take the card and smile at him. “It’s a deal.”

I’m more excited than I’ve ever been since I started college. Before college, I’d held out hope—for many things. That Mary might come back. That my parents might change. That Dylan…

Ah crap, don’t, Tessa. Forget about him.

My smile slipping, I clutch the card and promise to call, then turn and lose myself in the crowd, walking blindly through colors and flashes of gems and glittering gowns.

Can anyone change? Can I change? Mary obviously doesn’t believe it. She didn’t think our parents could, so she decided to change everything and everyone around her, instead.

A coward, Dad had called Mary. A disappointment. A fiasco.

Mary says she’s happy.

“Tessa,” my dad’s voice booms, and I flinch as he steps in my path, tall and imposing in his expensive suit, his face impassive. His hand encircles my wrist and yanks me forward, a tiny jerk that jars my bones and makes me yelp. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing.” I tug on my hand, and he lets go. My wrist throbs. “I was looking for you.”

His gaze is dark and disapproving. “Took you a long time,” he mutters. “It’s not that hard. Only you would take forever to locate me.”

“I ran into Mr. Walker,” I say and realize I’m trying to find excuses, when in fact I don’t have to excuse myself to him. “He said—”

“We’re late because of you,” he hisses, giving me no chance to say anything else, and starts walking.

I stare at his back, my breathing coming too fast. My feet start moving without any conscious thought.

“Wait!” I call as I totter after him. Why can’t I break his hold on me? I’m not a little kid anymore. “Just slow down. Who are we meeting?”

He doesn’t reply, maybe doesn’t even hear me, as he purposefully opens a path in the crowd. Where is my mom? Weren’t they supposed to come here together?

We’re heading toward one of the many bars set up around the roofed terrace. Dad finally slows down, scanning the people around us, and this gives me a chance to catch up. I stop by his side, panting.

“Who,” I begin, and have to stop and breathe in again, “are you looking for? The Jensons?”

“No, not them.” He straightens his silken tie. “They’re peanuts, not important in the grand scheme of things.”

I frown. “Not important? I thought you wanted to make a deal with them.”

“The Jensons are bankrupt.”

Confusion sweeps over me. “But this gala…?”

“Ah, there they are.” My father motions for me to follow and starts moving again.

The Jensons? By now I’m so confused, I just go with the flow. If the Jensons are bankrupt, how the heck did they finance such an event? Was bankruptcy the reason they canceled it at first? But then how did they get the money to set it up anyway? And what for?

My father stops, and I step sideways, not to crash into him. Suddenly his hand grips my wrist again, and I jerk it, trying to free it. What is he doing? In front of everyone…

“Well, well. Look who’s here,” a male voice drawls, and the fine hairs on my arms stand up like needles.

I lift my gaze, my head feeling heavy, my whole body sluggish as if moving through water.