Delta: Revenge Page 3

  “It’s a great day to raise money and awareness.” For what cause? Whatever Mom had decided. Raise money. Raise awareness. Four perfect words that could shut down any uncomfortable small talk.

  Tabby phffshed. “Give that BS line to someone else.”

  Thank God for real friends. “I need cake.”

  “And a drink.”

  Oh, yes. A drink. A big one with bubbles that comes with a warning. Something like, Too many will make you hurt in the morning, but for now, you’ll forget. Drink responsibly. “Your suggestions are one of the many reasons why I love you, Tabby.”

  She preened to the point that they both laughed. “I think we’ve crossed everyone off the list you have to say hey to.”

  “Affirmative. That’s why it’s also cake time.”

  Tabby’s light-green eyes narrowed as if working out a strategy. “So, how does that work?”

  “Hmmm.” Sophia did a small spin around the room in search of the wedding planner. No dice. The only ones working—on payroll for the event—were a few assistants, the caterers, and the DJ. “I think I’m just going to get a piece of cake.”

  “I don’t know about that. I’m pretty sure there is protocol. There’s an engraved keepsake after all.”

  “Do you want it?” Sophia asked.

  Tabby laughed, trying to hide it unsuccessfully with a bite to her bottom lip. “Well, no.”

  She shrugged a lace-covered shoulder. “Think anyone will say something?”

  “Yes. Your mother, for one. And—”

  “My mom is in public-relations crisis management. My stealing a slice of cake is the least of her worries.”

  “Sophia…” A haughty, feminine voice edged close, and Sophia caught sight of the editor in chief of DC File.

  Shit. Now was the time for a Bat-signal to the bevy of helper bees that were on Cole family payroll. The tall, assuming woman in a power suit was not what Sophia would consider friendly if she was thinking about strategic enemies the way her Dad would. But her mom would consider the woman barreling into their inner circle an asset. Mom was socially strategic. Tactical even.

  “Sophia, how are you doing, dear?” Her voice screamed that all conversation would be on the record.

  All eyes within a three-foot radius went from Sophia to DC File lady and back to Sophia. The enemy-asset woman had tabloid headline written all over her face. She was clearly not interested in anything to do with the plight of women’s rights abroad or raising awareness in the US, both of which Sophia knew had been pitched to and rejected by DC File.

  “Thanks for being here today.” Sophia’s back molars ground while she squared her couture-covered shoulders.

  “I haven’t seen Josh.”

  Well, no shit, lady. Colin and Dad probably had him strung up where no reporter or editor would find the body. “I’m sure he’s around. If you’re looking for him, someone can—”

  “Rumor has it that you were working with the Saudis, brokering discussions between them and a Yemeni women’s rights activist. That is where you were while Josh and you…were apart.”

  Oh, hell. Forget the jab about her and Josh. That bit about her with the Saudi-Yemen partnership was serious insider knowledge. Not to mention classified. “It’s great to have the opportunity to raise awareness tonight.” Instead of celebrating my nuptials to a cheating do-gooder. Sophia gave her best, most innocent smile. “Though obviously you know that I have spent a great deal of time in both areas of the world, and the rights of women and children are particularly important to me.”

  DC File lady scrunched her in-the-know face. They were in a standoff that none of her bridesmaids knew how to handle, and she’d handled the Liz-Lizzie problem flawlessly. National security and actual public relations? This was her, who she really was outside the walls of the glitzy mansion and the too-tight dress.

  Sophia wouldn’t lose a simple staring contest. After her day at the altar, there was no backing down as seconds were strangled.

  DC File lady blinked. Once. Twice. It was a white flag. “Alright, then. Just a rumor.”

  “Thanks for coming.” Sophia gave a big, fake smile with lots of teeth like a shark dressed in couture.

  “Of course.” Then the woman sauntered out.

  “That was weird.” Tabby’s eyebrow rose.

  “Yup, totally.” But where Tabby was confused, Sophia was unnerved. She’d deal with it later, but the woman had given a very accurate guess of a potentially dangerous classified piece of information.

  The music shifted, and the DJ gave a shout-out to all the single ladies in the room. Sophia rolled her eyes, but a couple of the girls took that as a moment to wander toward the dance floor. She couldn’t blame them. If she were in a better mood, she’d be out there too.

  “Nobody cares. Put it away,” Tabby hissed at another girl.

  Sophia turned to Tabby. “Hm?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I heard. Spit it out.”

  Tabby rolled her lips, staying silent.

  “Tabby?”

  “Nothing.” She relented. “Just Liz texted.”

  “You’re right.” Sophia shook her head. “Not today. Tell me tomorrow. I’ll deal with her then too.”

  “I shouldn’t have said anything. We were trying to be quiet. Sorry.”

  What should she say? “I get it. It’s weird.”

  “It’s messed up.”

  Sophia laughed quietly. “Yeah, but…”

  “Hm?” Tabby pushed her hair off her shoulder.

  “I don’t know.” How could she put into words the confusing back-and-forth of emotions she’d experienced, none of which would be classified as expected?

  Tabby stepped closer to her. “What?”

  “What if I’m more pissed about Josh and Liz’s betrayal than… I don’t know.”

  “Than about not getting married?” Tabby offered.

  Sophia nodded.

  “Then I’d say everything happens for a reason.” She put an arm around her and squeezed. “I was wondering if you were thinking something like that. I know you’ve got brass balls and all, but I just wanted to make sure you’re as okay as you pretend most times.”

  “Sophia!” Another voice that she didn’t recognize was calling.

  “More of this?” Leaning into Tabby, she whispered, “I thought all the smiling BS was over.”

  A face Sophia didn’t recognize came front and center, the salivating need for precious gossip almost dripping down her chin. “Oh my God! Did you know?”

  She’d never seen the woman before in her life. “I did! Crazy, isn’t it? Thought it would be best to end things with a bang. More fun this way—”

  “Excuse me!” Tabby snagged her arm. “We have to use the restroom.” She firmly yanked Sophia away. “You need a breather.”

  “Yup. I think I do.” She had to get out of that room with all the lights and decorations and busybodies. The faces of the guests all said they either pitied her or they knew. “Not once, but three times, with my three overseas trips in the last year.”

  “We need out of this room before we start dissecting it.”

  “I was risking my life in Saudi Arabia and Yemen”—since DC File lady knew, what the hell, Tabby could know too—“while Liz was screwing my fiancé.” Josh didn’t know exactly what Sophia had been doing overseas, but he did know it was a project that her father had set up, that it wasn’t the safest situation, but that she was doing something that mattered. “Glad he was worried about my safety…”

  A love affair with the two people who said they were most concerned about her travels. That was BS.

  “Screw him,” Tabby promised.

  “Yeah.” Sophia’s stupid-expensive dress swooshed with each step as they passed her mom, who waved as though it really were any old fundraiser. “You know what? I’m not going to hide.”

  “We’re not hiding. We’re breathing. In a bathroom. Or hallway. Away from people.” Tabby gripped her elbow. “Let’s go breathe elsewhere.”

  “I’m done following the party line.” She stopped, lace and fluff and silk anchoring her in one spot.

  “Shit, Soph. Party line? You’re not a politician. But you can’t… I don’t know.” Tabby inched close. “Please don’t do anything insane.”

  Sophia grabbed the white layers of the mermaid skirt. “This dress is insane. My mother turning the reception into the must-attend function of the year—that’s insane.”

  The conversation her mother had started when Sophia arrived was really insane, but Tabby didn’t need to know the embarrassing details. Her mom’s prissy voice had pleaded with her over Colin’s phone. Couldn’t you two wait to do this later? Yeah, sure, Mom. Go through with a wedding and then have to deal with the divorce just to make her party go off without a hitch. Very Mom.

  Tabby relented, knowing that the dress and the festivities were over-the-top and not very Sophia at all. “Point proven.”

  She dropped the skirt, feigning heartache. “God forbid a party falls through.”

  Tabby failed to stifle an appreciating laugh. “So, what do you want to do?”

  “This.” Sophia turned and headed toward her mom. She forced on a happy face. “That was everyone I needed to say hello to, so my duties are officially over.”

  “Sweetheart.” Mom’s discomfort would never be obvious, but the ladies standing with her had pinched expressions.

  The DJ started another song, and the dance floor was reinvigorated. Sophia could dance but had to get that awful dress off. The corset choked off her circulation and, more importantly, wouldn’t allow much room for cake and champagne, both of which she was going to sample—several times—if it was the last thing she did. And by sample, she meant gorge.

  “I appreciate what you’v
e done, Mom.” It certainly should have been scary how quickly her mother and her bevy of assistants transformed the wedding reception into a fundraiser.

  Actually, no, it wasn’t scary. This was Mom’s calling. Sophia tried to understand it—really. Mom’s effort was how she showed love. The attention and PR ridiculousness were her mother’s way of showing she cared. Some people hugged. Her mom created espionage-worthy illusions.

  “Thank you,” Sophia told her.

  Mom’s perfectly lipsticked lips opened, but Sophia turned, grabbing Tabby, and walked away gracefully before another word could be said.

  “Awkward.” Tabby giggled. “We need a drink.”

  “Amen.” Sophia beelined straight to the closest bar, cutting in line and grabbing the bartender’s attention. “Hi. Can you hand me that bottle, please?”

  “Um, Soph? A drink.” Tabby touched her arm. “Maybe not a bottle?”

  “Um.” The bartender’s confused expression didn’t help the speedy getaway that she was planning. Maybe she needed cake first.

  “Definitely a bottle.”

  “Um.” Tabby glanced at the bartender. “Maybe a glass.”

  “Tabby, really, I’m good.” Or not. “I’m grabbing the bottle and some cake.”

  Her friend’s eyelashes batted indecisively. “You’re sure?”

  Sophia nodded and pivoted toward the bartender. “I’ll be back in two minutes. I want a bottle of champagne.” Still no reaction. For the love of all that was holy… “See the dress? It’s my fundraiser. And my champagne. I’ll give you a minute to figure it out.”

  Tabby nodded, finally showing solidarity. “Just give it to her.”

  “He’ll figure it out.” Sophia turned and headed toward the cake. It sat on a lonesome table, waiting for its shining moment, which would never come.

  How was she going to do this? Hmm. Sophia grabbed the engraved spatula—wow, heavier than she expected—and knife, then she cut the first slice as large as the waiting plate would allow, not looking to see if anyone noticed.

  Alright then, cake in hand. Next up, champagne. She swooshed the skirt toward the bar, heading for her bottle.

  “Oh, I will definitely need this.” She grabbed a silverware roll from a table on her way, unable to ignore that people were staring. A few eyes followed her, their gossiping gazes burrowing into the poor Paul Lang number, but mostly, she could feel her mother’s stare. Alcohol was needed more than ever, certainly more than she’d needed it at the altar.

  Sophia cut ahead of someone she didn’t know. “My champagne, please.”

  The man produced a linen-wrapped bottle. “Would you like a glass, ma’am?”

  “No, thank you.” With the cake plate and silverware in one hand, and the bottle in the other, she grinned at Tabby, who had rejoined their friends at a nearby table. She mouthed, “Cake and champagne.”

  Tabby raised her glass and smiled. “Salud.”

  With the senior bridesmaid’s blessing, Sophia left the reception— um, fundraiser—and wandered into the hallway, taking in the vastness of a house that she was mostly unfamiliar with. In theory, it should have felt like coming home, but neither she nor Colin had actually grown up in this monstrosity.

  Sophia leaned against the wall. Her elbow trailed the chair rail molding of the ornate hall. Once the voices had faded from the grand ballroom, the quiet played with her mind. A tear slipped free. Sophia had let her life become this: a wedding that required a press secretary and a fiancé who couldn’t keep it in his pants. What if she’d stayed home or hadn’t had those lofty save-the-world goals? Nope. A cheater would cheat, regardless; it stank that it took her wedding day to realize it.

  Time for cake and a drink. She ducked into a dark and quiet study, a refuge where she could down the cake. She swished to the desk and plopped behind it. The good thing about a mermaid skirt was her butt fit in the chair, but pushing the bottom of the skirt under the desk? Eh, not so much.

  Oh well. Sophia unrolled her silverware and stabbed the fork into the cake. Ah… heaven.

  Drunk giggles warned her before the door bounced open. One of her brother’s teammates, Ryder, and Sophia’s friend, Stacy, were lip-locked and completely oblivious to her.

  Shit. “Hey. I’ll just get going.”

  The startled hookup froze.

  “Oh! Sophia. I’m, um, sorry.” Stacy’s scarlet cheeks could almost match her dress.

  They both looked unsure of what to do. God, it was awkward. “I’m heading out. You two just… stay.”

  “No, really. Are you—” She smoothed her dress. “Are you okay?”

  “I really am. You guys should continue…” Sophia bit her lip. “Talking, or whatever. I was just leaving.”

  She gathered her cake speared with a fork and the bottle of champagne, nabbing a pair of scissors off the desk in a last-minute dress strategy, using her elbow and hands to hold everything, and headed for a bedroom where she could change, eat cake, and drink responsibly—which meant alone in her pajamas.

  “Scissors?” Stacy asked, a twinge of concern trilling her question.

  “I need to fix a snag.” Or rather, she was sewn into the corset top, and the seam ripper had been packed into her overnight bag. Lord knew where that was. The ribbon that ran along her spine would be a goner as soon as she could figure out how to pull off such a flexible feat. “Bye, guys.”

  Sophia hustled as fast as her dress would allow. Conversations like this were hell. She went up a back staircase to the second floor, south wing, holding her cake and bottle of bubbly. A row of guest rooms that were likely unused—because while Mom loved a party, she wanted folks to leave at the end—were up ahead. Sophia doubted even her parents would spend the night in this house. Surely there was some fancy diplomatic event they had to scoot off to somewhere in the world.

  Pushing through a door, she forked a huge bite of cake into her mouth and walked with her eyes shut, mouth full, and was the closest she’d been to content in about a day. “Peace at last.”

  “Sorry.”

  A low masculine accent that struck her as amazing raked from across the room.

  “Oh,” she mumbled, eyes now open, pulling the fork from her mouth. She slapped a hand over her mouth, clattered the plate and champagne onto the dresser, and dropped the scissors. Oh. My. God. Holy crap.

  “Just leaving.”

  “Sorry,” she said, desperately trying to swallow the cake without looking like an oaf dressed like an elegant marshmallow. “Didn’t know anyone was in here.”

  Her eyes adjusted to the dim light, focusing on another one of Colin’s teammates from Titan Group. Javier. Javier. Okay. Not a big deal. It didn’t matter. He was the most attractive man at the wedding even if she counted her ex-groom. Not that she’d noticed before. Well, she hadn’t not noticed. But it was more like inventory. Colin’s teammates were, as a general rule, hot. Javier, in her opinion, was at the top of that list.

  There was just something about a Delta boy. Physically, they were as good as men came. But add the whole warrior, protector, save-the-world attitude. Yeah, it worked for her.

  She had met Javier in passing a couple times and knew that he had a bit of a wild reputation. But that was not the guy in front of her, sitting on the edge of the bed, hanging his head and holding the phone as if he’d just received bad news.

  “Are you okay?” She wiped the corner of her mouth, sure there were icing smudges. He looked broken and alone, and she wondered how long he’d been there, lost in thought as night drifted by.

  But he laughed, transforming whatever hung over him with a flash of his gorgeous smile. “Wow. Yeah. I’m okay. How are you?”

  “I hate that question.”

  “Why?”

  “Does anyone ever answer it truthfully?”

  His dark eyes tightened with the hint of acknowledgement, but it was the cut jawline and olive skin that made her take notice. “Answer truthfully. What do you have to lose?”

  The accent and the low pitch of his voice urged her to trust him as though he were genuinely interested in whether she was okay, even if he didn’t know her from Adam. Her head tilted toward the dresser where she’d placed her post-reception creature-comfort plan. “I’m gorging on enough cake for four people and ready to cut off my dress and drink a bottle of champagne by myself.”

  He laughed and tilted his head toward his champagne bottle on the nightstand. “Feel you on the bubbly.”