Officially, it had always been her word against his father’s. Those close to the situation had known the truth. But his mother simply hadn’t wanted to be in the same room with the man who could treat her so disrespectfully after she’d served her purpose. The man who would threaten her and her son so he didn’t have to part with the paltry sum it would have taken to lift their lives above poverty level.
Better to cut that person from her life than to allow him to destroy her, piece by piece, over years of contact.
That hadn’t been an option for Royce, if he wanted to be any kind of businessman in Savannah. But he’d done his best to ignore John over the years. John seemed to prefer it that way, too. Now it seemed his father had taken some kind of interest in him.
Royce refused to let that dictate anything about who he was or his actions.
Reaching out, he took Jasmine’s hand in his. But he just stood there. He didn’t rush upstairs. Instead, he let his eyes close once more and let the early summer breeze carry her scent to him. When he opened his eyes and his gaze found her face, he took in how she was patiently waiting. He offered a sheepish smile.
“Would you like to come up for a while?”
“Only if that’s where you want me.”
Silly woman. “I can’t think of anything I want more right now.”
“Me, either.”
That’s when he noticed the slight strain in her smile, the tightness around her eyes. Their encounter with his father had affected her almost as much as it had him.
But he waited until much later, when he held her tight against him in his bed, to ask, “What did he say to you before I showed up?”
The delicious lassitude that fitted her perfectly to his side drained away. He felt her body stiffen, though she didn’t retreat from him. “Honestly, I’m doing my best to forget. Let’s just say, your dad is very much a sexist pig.”
“First of all, he isn’t my dad. He’s the sperm donor.”
His tone was light, and sure enough, she laughed. Unfortunately, the sentiment came straight from his heart.
“Second of all, it amazes me how he knew anyone willing to bring him. As you can tell, he isn’t the most personable of people. But money talks.”
“It must, because I can’t imagine how that man ever got married.” A shiver shook her body.
Royce hugged her closer. “I agree. Although, from the rumors I’ve heard, she’s just as cold.”
“Then why bother? I don’t understand.”
Neither did Royce. “It’s marriage as a business merger. They’re the perfect example.”
“An example of what not to do,” Jasmine murmured.
“I guess it works for them.” He shrugged. “I’d rather be alone than endure something that emotionless.”
She patted his chest. “That’s because you actually have a heart...and human emotions.”
“I know a few people who wouldn’t agree with you,” he said with a chuckle.
“I might not have agreed with me a month ago.”
“And I wouldn’t blame you for your assessment.”
She snuggled closer. Her breath was warm across his skin. She was silent for so long that he began to wonder if she’d fallen asleep. Then she whispered, “So why be that way?”
It’s safe. There was no way he was offering that explanation. Not even to Jasmine. Instead, he said, “It’s what I know.”
* * *
“What do I wear to the ball? Cinderella’s eternal question shared by women everywhere.”
Jasmine glared at her little sister as she walked past, her arms overflowing with formal dresses. Ivy’s words made Jasmine even more stressed. The store owner helped Ivy arrange her potential choices on a rack before she headed down the hall to a dressing room. Jasmine’s arms were still empty.
They’d been looking at dresses for the masquerade for over half an hour already at a small local boutique where Jasmine usually bought her formal clothing. Ivy was attending the masquerade with her. She loved parties. Willow was more than happy to help pick out everyone’s attire, then stay home with Auntie and Rosie.
The three of them had done this on quite a few occasions. Many times Ivy had assisted Jasmine at her events so she had an extra pair of hands. This time, her little sister was coming because what Jasmine and Royce had put together was totally cool.
But Jasmine had never had a problem finding a dress. Today was the exception, apparently.
She knew what the problem was, but she didn’t want to acknowledge it. What difference did it make what dress she wore? After all, Royce had seen her naked on more than one occasion. But her stupid feminine psyche seemed stuck on finding the perfect dress. The dress that would wow Royce, make him proud to have her standing next to him.
At least, she assumed that’s what she would be doing...when she wasn’t conferring with caterers and waitstaff and Dominic, among others. Royce hadn’t actually spelled that part out yet.
But she wasn’t going to live with the same angst she’d had before their visit to the Jeffersons’ Sunday Salon. They’d gone out to dinner a few times since then. She’d felt safe assuming they’d present themselves as a couple, of sorts. By now she knew Royce wasn’t the type of man who needed her on his arm the entire time. But when they were together, she knew he wouldn’t ignore her.
Still, she hoped she got to have at least one dance with him...
“So, what’s the problem?” Willow asked.
“I just can’t find what I’m looking for.” Jasmine glanced once more across the rows and rows of silky fabrics and sequins.
“What are you looking for?” Willow asked, the confusion in her voice echoing Jasmine’s own conflicted emotions.
“I haven’t figured that out, either.”
Luckily, Willow didn’t lose patience quickly. “At least we know where the problem is.”
Jasmine tried to explain. “I don’t want it to be too sexy, because I’m also there in a professional capacity. But I also don’t want it to be too businesslike, because...”
“Royce won’t find that sexy?”
It took her a minute to admit it. “Well, yes.”
“Where are these nerves still coming from? Y’all are great together.”
And Jasmine knew that was true. In every single way except one: Rosie. After seeing Royce with his father, she knew better than anyone why he limited his time around children. A conviction that deep wasn’t going to disappear overnight. She felt like she had to protect at least part of her heart, when what she really wanted was to jump in with both feet and leave her worries in the dust.
“I really enjoy being with Royce,” she began.
Ivy stuck her head out of her dressing room. “Of course you do.”
“But I just don’t know that it can ever be something permanent.”
Willow seemed to get this, although Ivy rolled her eyes. “Don’t you trust Royce?” Ivy asked.
“In just about every way.”
Willow peeked at her solemnly over the stack of dresses she’d started loading into her arms. “Then what is it that’s holding you back?”
“Rosie.”
“Why?” Ivy asked again.
“Babies