I reach the driveway just in time to see his body slide into the driver’s seat of a black SUV. I open my mouth but stop myself from calling his name. The long circular driveway is filled with people. Not just valets and event staff, but guests. I don’t want to make a scene. I start to walk quickly toward the car, intent on reaching it before he can drive away but someone calls my name. I almost ignore it but then there’s a hand around my wrist and I turn and see Victor staring at me expectantly.

“Speak of the devil,” he says with a big smile.

“I think you mean angel,” a deeper, gruffer male voice says and I glance over Victor’s shoulder to see a portly older gentleman with a cigar wedged between his plump fingers. This must be the boss Victor wanted me to meet.

“Where were you headed in such a rush, babe?” Victor asks me and I glance quickly over my shoulder in time to see Alex’s SUV turn onto the road at the end of the driveway. He’s gone. Damn it. I turn back to Victor. “Sorry, I was just hoping to catch Alex before he left.”

Victor blinks, his face full of questions I don’t want to answer, especially in front of his boss, so I turn to him and extend my hand. “Mr. Lombardi, I’m Brie Bennett. Victor speaks very highly of you; it’s nice to finally meet you.”

He smiles and does that thing where instead of shaking my hand he takes it in his and pats the top of it with his other hand. It’s both awkward and annoying to me and as he does it a big clump of ash from his cigar plops to the pavement between us. “I’m sure he doesn’t speak as highly of me as he does of you, young lady. After all I’m the one that makes him work weekends.”

The men all chuckle like that was the wittiest thing anyone has ever said. Mr. Lombardi leans closer, as if about to share a secret with me and says, “This is a lovely party for a lovely cause.”

“Thank you.” I struggle not to choke on his foul cigar and whiskey breath.

Victor wraps an arm around my shoulder and squeezes. Mr. Lombardi shoves the cigar between his lips, reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. “I know there are donation boxes inside but I wanted to give you this myself.”

He hands me a check for twenty-five hundred dollars. “Mr. Lombardi, sir, thank you so much.”

“Call me Peter, honey.”

I bite my tongue to keep from responding with Call me Brie, not “honey,” honey.

“Victor says you have a background in psychology and that you’re Baxter and Helena Bennett’s daughter?” he says. “I know Bax from my old position at LeBrun Industries.”

I nod, not really paying attention. My mind still on Alex. I hope he’s okay. I debate texting him or calling him, but I don’t want to annoy him. If he wanted my help he would have asked for it, right? And since he thinks I’m some meddling, spoiled socialite, I’m the last person he’ll ask for help. His expression was pure torture when I saw him on the beach, and his body was so rigid it was like marble. And when he took my hand in his, unexpectedly, it was out of need. He was freefalling and looking for an anchor. That’s why I grasped it back, lacing my fingers with his and holding him in a firm and gentle grip, my thumb sliding soothingly back and forth against his wrist.

Victor says something. Peter says something else. I keep smiling. Over Peter’s droopy shoulder I see Len standing on the front porch talking to the woman who bought the Barons tickets. I can’t believe Alex agreed to have dinner with her. And he thinks that means he agreed to sex. Does it? Does that woman think she can buy sexual services at a freaking charity auction? And would Alex really just sleep with her like it’s no big deal?

“Gabrielle!” Victor’s sharp tone yanks me back to reality.

My eyes refocus and I realize by the expectant look on Peter’s face that he’d asked me something. Victor’s hand slips from my shoulders to my hip where he holds on firmly—much more firmly than required. “You’ve just always had an affinity for helping kids in need, right Brie?”

I blink. He smiles sharply at me, barely containing his annoyance. “That’s why you started the charity right?”

I look back at Peter. Oh. “Well, I’m adopted and actually spent a year in foster care before I was placed with my parents. I was very young and was blessed to be adopted out of the system and into such a loving, strong family. But I’ve always been aware that not all kids have been blessed like me, by no fault of their own, and so it’s just always been important to me to try and help them. Change their luck, you know? And this charity is my way of doing that.”

Peter looks truly moved. Dropping his cigar on the pavement and crushing it under the heel of his black dress shoe, he reaches for my hand again and gives it a squeeze. “I had no idea you’d been through that.”

I smile and gently, subtly, take my hand back.

“She barely remembers it,” Victor announces in a confident voice. “She’s just a regular person.”

What the actual fuck does that mean? I stare at him with a look I’m fairly certain could melt titanium but he’s too busy staring at his boss. So I turn to Peter again too. “It was so nice meeting you and I appreciate the donation very much. If you’ll excuse me for just a moment I need to discuss something with my friend Len, who is handling something for me.”

“Of course, honey,” Peter says with a grin. “I’m sure you have a ton of obligations. Nice meeting you.”

I start to walk away, toward Len and the guest who seem to be about to wrap up their conversation, when I hear Peter ask Victor, “Is Len the one who will take over the charity after you get married?”

I freeze and turn back to them. I’m standing a little behind Peter so he doesn’t know his words have caught my attention, but Victor knows because our eyes lock. I can tell by the expression on his face Bob’s words are not some misunderstanding. He told Bob that I’m going to give up Daphne’s House after we’re married. I silently mouth three words: “What. The. Fuck?”

But I turn and walk away, continuing toward Len. I walk up beside her and she smiles and introduces me to the Barons ticket winner. I smile and extend my hand. The older lady with the way-too-low-cut dress takes it, her fingers icy. “Lizzie Cameron.”

“Ms. Cameron owns Cameron Real Estate,” Len explains. “She bid on the Barons tickets and got Alex to throw in dinner too.”

“It’s such a good cause,” Lizzie says, smiling. “And if I can help you and help myself by meeting a hot athlete at the same time, I am more than willing to do it.”

She laughs. I smile politely just like Len is doing. “About those Barons tickets. I think it was such a funny moment to ask for dinner but unfortunately we don’t make alterations to prizes.”

“Excuse me?” Lizzie looks startled.

“We don’t?” Len blurts out, just as startled.

I smile calmly. “Mr. Larue was not being auctioned off.”

“He volunteered to sweeten my pot,” Lizzie replies icily.

“Yes, well he is a very generous, selfless man. But being the director of the charity, I wouldn’t feel comfortable forcing him to go through with it,” I explain, refusing to look as ruffled as I am.

“Brie, it’s just dinner,” Len whispers, but it’s loud enough that Lizzie hears her.

“It’s not,” I reply to my best friend and glance over at Lizzie. “Is it?”

“It’s whatever Mr. Larue and I decide it is,” she replies and gives me another icy smile, her bright red lips a garish contrast to her pale skin and pale blond hair. “I can just cancel my check.”

“Please do,” I reply firmly and turn and walk back into the house. I make it to the kitchen before Len catches up to me.

“Holy shit. What the hell has gotten into you?” she asks a little too loudly, even though the kitchen only has some event staff cleaning up in it and the rest of the house is almost empty of guests too since the night is winding down.

“She expects more than surf and turf, Len,” I explain hotly as I pace the narrow strip of marble floor between the island and the stove. “She was hoping to get laid. By Alex.”

Len drops her forearms on the island and leans forward, her face filled with confusion. “So? Alex is a big boy. He can handle himself.”

She might be right, but the man I saw tonight on the beach wasn’t a big boy. He was a scared kid. When the dinner thing first happened, I was worried about how it looked to be auctioning off dates—and potential hookups—at an auction associated with my charity. But now I’m worried about putting him in a position that makes him feel trapped. But I can’t tell Len that because I don’t want to reveal what happened tonight. I know he wouldn’t want me to. “Maybe I overreacted, but I’m not okay with her using this like it’s a bachelor auction. It isn’t.”

“You needed that five grand, Brie,” Len reminds me of what I already know.

I sigh and reach up and start pulling the pins out of my hair. “Not that badly.”

Len looks unconvinced and shrugs. “Where is the man whose honor you’re defending?”

“He left.”

My mom walks into the kitchen and smiles warmly at Len before wrapping me in a hug. “I’ve barely had a chance to see you all night, princess.”

“I know. It’s been crazy.”

“But good, right?” she asks, looking down at me with her kind hazel eyes. My mom is a statuesque, auburn-haired beauty who probably could have been a model. Instead she studied languages at NYU and worked as a UN translator until she met my father on the subway. They fell madly in love and when he was transferred to Quebec just four weeks later she quit her job and moved with him. She never looked back.

“I think so. Len still has to run the numbers,” I reply. She hugs me again.

“I’m sure we raised enough,” she declares confidently. “Now since everyone seems to be outside waiting on their vehicles, I’m going to sneak upstairs and take off these heels. I’ll also make sure the bedrooms have fresh sheets. You and Len in one room. Victor in the other. I’m still old-fashioned so humor me, Brie.”

She smiles and winks at me, probably figuring I’ll have Len and Victor switch rooms because I’ve done that before.

“Don’t worry about it, Mom. Victor isn’t spending the night.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m about to break up with him,” I reply and start to walk out of the room.

“What the fuck?” I hear Len say behind me. “Sorry, Mrs. Bennett.”

“No, I think a ‘What the fuck?’ is appropriate, Eleanor,” my mom replies to her. “Brie! What happened?”

I pause at the archway that leads to the hall. “It’s a long story and I swear I will tell you both later. I just need to finish this now. And before you ask, I’m okay. It’s been a long time coming and I’m ready for it.”

I turn and walk toward the front door, intent on finally ending what has been dying a slow death anyway. And then, I’m going to find my phone and text Alex and make sure he’s okay. Because as crazy as it makes me, I’m more concerned about him than I am about ending my relationship.