Of course, I know Preston knew my mom, but he doesn’t know I know.
The look Preston is giving me couldn’t be mistaken for anything but predatory. Even Ainsley picks up on it. Her curious eyes are volleying back and forth, but I can’t worry about that right now. If Preston wants to talk about my mom, I’m taking advantage of it.
“Oh, I knew Mahalia very well. I’m surprised your father hasn’t mentioned it. Although he always was rather... stingy when it came to her. Constantly looking for ways to keep your mother to himself. I haven’t seen him act that way with a woman before or since.”
I have to literally bite my tongue to avoid lashing out at the way he speaks about my mom with such familiarity. “What’s that supposed to m—”
Kingston’s grip on my hand tightens. “Speaking of Charles... is he here tonight?”
My boyfriend’s diversion tactic is jarring, but I know why he’s doing it. Preston Davenport is getting bolder by the second. Having this conversation is proof of that. For a man who supposedly prides himself on keeping his composure and maintaining discretion, he’s doing a shit job of it.
“No, he’s not,” Preston answers coolly. “Why do you ask?”
“Just curious, I suppose.” Kingston shrugs.
“So...” Ainsley pipes in, obviously trying to diffuse the awkwardness. “Mr. Ivanov, you mentioned introducing me to a friend of yours from the LASPA?”
“Yes, of course.” Ivanov smiles. “I last saw him by the parlor. Shall we see if he’s still there?”
Kingston and Reed share a look before Alexander leads Ainsley and Reed off in search of his friend. I wait for them to step out of earshot before I start grilling Preston.
“When you say you knew my mom ‘very well,’ what exactly did you mean by that?”
His lips curve into a smug smile. “Perhaps that’s a story for another time. For now... let’s just say my son and I have more in common than you might think.”
With that cryptic bullshit, he walks away without another word.
“You and your son are nothing alike, asshole,” I mutter, turning to Kingston. “God, I literally want to strangle that man.”
He glares at his father’s retreating back. “Get in line. Although knowing my dad, there’s probably quite a few other people ahead of us.”
“No doubt.” I snort. “What now?”
Kingston looks around the open space. “I see a few familiar faces, but they won’t speak candidly if you’re with me.”
“So, I’ll hang out here.”
Kingston scoffs. “Yeah... no. I’m not leaving you alone for a second. Let’s go find my sister and Reed. He knows to keep an eye on you.”
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Just humor me, Jazz. I know you’re smart and capable, but you’re also tiny. You’re not strong enough to fight off someone twice your size, no matter how scrappy you get.” He points at me as I glare. “Don’t give me that look. You know I’m right.”
My eyes roll. “What’s the worst that could happen to me in front of all these witnesses?”
He blows out a breath. “I’m not taking any chances.” When I open my mouth to protest, he puts a finger to my lips. “Stop fucking fighting me. If you won’t do it for me, do it for your sister. You can’t protect Belle if something happens to you, right?”
My eyes narrow. “That was a low blow.”
The jackass doesn’t look apologetic in the least. “Then stop forcing me to hit below the belt.”
“Fine. Let’s go.”
Kingston takes my hand and leads me through the crowd until we spot his sister. She and Reed just turned away from the man they were speaking to, so it looks like our timing is perfect.
“Hey,” I say to Ainsley. “Was that the dean?”
“Yep,” she confirms. “Apparently he’s good friends with Madame Rochelle from my studio. She’s mentioned me to him. He’s going to come watch me practice sometime next week.”
My brows rise. “That’s a good thing, right?”
Ainsley nods. “It’s a very good thing.”
“That’s awesome, Ains. So the odds of you staying in LA just got higher?”
She smiles. “Much higher.”
Reed’s smile is packed with pride and adoration. If I didn’t know he was such a kinky fucker, I’d swear the boy is a giant marshmallow when it comes to Ainsley Davenport. Regardless, it’s apparent the guy is head over heels, which makes me incredibly happy for my friend.
Kingston nudges Reed with his arm. “I saw a few people I wanted to say hi to, but I don’t want to bore Jazz. You cool if she hangs with you for a bit?”
“Of course.” Reed gives a stern nod.
“Duh,” Ainsley adds, swinging her arm around my shoulders. “What do you say we go find the booze?”
Kingston and Reed have a silent exchange before Kingston yanks me into him and plants a kiss on my mouth.
“I’ll be back soon.”
I wave him off. “Do what you need to do.”
I watch as Kingston weaves through the crowd. He has his eye on someone in particular, but Ainsley tugs on my arm to get my attention before I can see who he’s after.
“Jazz? Did you hear me about the booze?”
“That sounds like a great idea.” I could use something to take the edge off from my encounter with her father.
“So... what’s up with the weird vibes I was getting earlier?”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“I mean...” She stretches the last word out. “Why was my dad acting like a total creeper? And he knew your mom?! How crazy is that? What did he say after I went to talk to the dean?”
“Uh...” I look to Reed for some help.
“Babe.” Reed puts a hand on Ainsley’s lower back, guiding her to the bar. “Let’s get those drinks. I’m thirsty as hell.”
Ainsley giggles and presses up on her toes to whisper something in his ear. Reed’s hand flexes around her hip, leading me to believe that whatever she said was filthy. Whatever he says back to her is likely even filthier because she’s turning beet red.
Diversion successful. God bless teenage hormones.
After she disengages from the dirty talk, Ainsley’s hazel eyes, identical to her brother’s, roam the room. “Is it just me, or are there an awful lot of girls our age here?”
I noticed that, too, but I wouldn’t exactly know what’s considered atypical with these types of gatherings.
“And that’s odd?”
Ainsley nods. “Totally odd. Usually, the only women present are freshly Botoxed wives or girlfriends. At least in the parties my dad has hosted at our house. They must be dancers, too, here to meet the dean.”
Reed is scanning the room right along with me and based on the wary look in his eyes, I’m guessing the same thoughts are running through his brain. Could these girls possibly be trafficking victims? My recent online research has taught me that sex trades can take on many different forms. On the surface, victims could look like your average happy, healthy person.
But sometimes, beautiful women are used as high-class escorts in wealthier circles. Or they work as masseuses—not to be confused with massage therapists—through seemingly legitimate day spas or likewise establishments. You just never know because things aren’t always as they seem. They even have task forces during the Super Bowl, whose sole job is to raise awareness or provide an opportunity for victims to escape during the massive influx of travelers.