The Entitled (The Entitled Duet 1)

“Fuck everybody.” His warm hand tightens on mine. It’s as though I’m back in high school and everyone is whispering about me.

The large wooden antique doors stand open, almost beckoning us to come inside. Reed is instantly greeted like a crown prince, bombarded with well-dressed strangers with outstretched hands, all wanting his attention. I smile and nod so much, my lips start to twitch and ache.

“Tess! Thank God you’re here.”

Wow, is all I can think. She’s skinnier, if that’s even possible.

“Mom.” I let go of Reed’s hand and hug her. “We just got here.”

“Did you know?” Her blue eyes are glazed, and she appears almost shocked.

Perfect. She’s not even trying to hold it together. I wrap my arm around her waist and guide her over to a life-size ice sculpture of Ian Saddington. A waiter walks by, and grabbing a napkin, I load it with shrimp skewers.

“Here.” I shove it at her. “Please eat this. Do not make a scene.” Her clawlike hand grabs my arm. I smile at people as they walk by us, their eyes filled with contempt.

“Did you know?” she demands.

“Mom, this is not the time or place,” I whisper.

“Your father brought his whore to a party where all my friends met her! He introduced his slut as his girlfriend to me!” She’s loud and not very steady. If a small wind came in, it would probably knock her over.

“Take it easy.” This time people aren’t even trying to hide their stares.

“He’s ruined me. Made me a laughingstock.” Tears fill her eyes.

“I’m so sorry. No one should have to go through that.” For a moment, I stare up at the tall ceilings and the numerous oil paintings of Reed’s ancestors. Some of the men look so much like Reed and Jax it’s uncanny. When I return my focus, it’s obvious I need to get her out of here, pronto.

“Why? Why would he do this? Does he love her?” Her nails bite into my arm.

“Okay, let’s get some fresh air,” I say quietly. People are watching and whispering. This time, I’m not being paranoid.

I groan, desperate for Reed or Brance. Even Caroline would do. Scanning the large room, my gaze lands on tables set up with piles of gifts. A huge three-tiered cake sits in the middle.

“He’s trying to divorce me. I won’t let him. I’ll never let him win.” She’s rambling like a crazy person, and absently, I wonder if this is the final humiliation for her. Has my dad made her insane? A wave of pity floods me as I guide her outside.

The fragrant flowers in the air make my nose twitch. I guide us along the little path that leads to the duck pond.

The gazebo is unoccupied, I note with relief. Little lights are strung up all around it, some mixing in with the climbing pink roses and purple wisteria. In the middle sits a wooden swing. Reed and I have spent hours swinging on this swing. It’s old but in perfect condition and looks like it’s been freshly painted.

“Here, Mom.” I help her sit back in her ridiculous harlot-red velvet gown.

We can barely hear the music although an occasional loud scream or laughter filters through.

We swing in silence until I can’t stand it. “Mom?” I turn and look at her. “Why don’t you just do it? Sign the divorce papers. You’ll be rich. And I have to think happier than you are right now.”

“Why would I give him to her? After all these years? Walk away and let some Russian gold digger have him?” She turns so fast her elbow slips off the armrest.

Reaching out, I steady her. I want to defend Lana, but it’s pointless.

“He’s living in another country,” I say, trying to be gentle. “You have to face the fact that he’s been with her for years.”

She runs her hands through her hair. “He’ll come back! He always does.”

Shaking my head, I search the dark skies. “What Daddy did tonight was unforgivable and wrong. But he wants out. And what I have learned living with him is that he gets what he wants. So, be proactive, take the money, and move on.”

I hate feeling like this. I don’t have one thing in common with this woman. She has never once in my life put me first. So, why do I feel so sorry for her or want to help?

The ducks squawk, causing me to turn. Someone has added swans. Their snowy white bodies and necks dip and flutter in the dark water.

“I… I don’t know who I am without him.” I almost fall off the swing. Did my mom actually say something honest?

Blinking at her, I respond, “That’s not true. He’s been gone almost four years. And you have survived. You could do anything you want. Think about it, Mom. You’re still young. You can find someone who truly likes you and be happy.”