ADDICTED

47

JAMES

Splendid. Perfectly fucking splendid.

The tendon in my jaw ticked as I gazed out over the ballroom.

I focused on the hanging lanterns and string lights, the extravagant floral arrangements at each table, and the lingering smell of baked bread from the kitchen.

I tried to ward off the waves of anger. I wasn't mad at Leah.

Not at her directly.

Just indirectly.

She invited my parents without even asking me.

She sat them at a table with Julia without consulting me.

They shouldn't be here.

I'd been avoiding them for weeks now because I knew how they would nose around in my business.

Fixing my mouth into a smile, I greeted our investors and thanked them for coming. I explained how dinner would be three courses and would be distributed as I spoke. Then I invited Leah onto the stage to explain the agenda for the rest of the evening.

My eyes flicked over to her approaching form.

One glance at her melted all my reserve. Her eyes were tight but warm.

She was always comforting, always inviting—even when she was furious.

She nodded at me to step away from the mic. It took all the self-awareness and willpower in me to step aside rather than embrace her.

A stripe of heat flared up my legs while I moved to the side. I bit back the instinctive grimace.

For all the indignation I had for the wheelchair and those damned crutches, I wish I had something.

The cane from Leah was at our table. I should have grabbed it.

Walking so freely was liberating at first, but now the pain meds were wearing off.

Fuck.

". . . while eating," Leah was saying, her body jerking with each arm motion she made, "our comedian is going to come up. When she has finished, our silent auction will begin. If you haven't had the chance to see what we have, please take a look. The tables are spread around the room with baskets to place your tickets in.

"There are three bars located in the building that will open again after dinner and will remain in service until the end of the night. If you're like me, a glass of wine is just the kind of courage I need to put a pid on that O'Keefe painting."

A chuckle sounded through the room as a few heads turned.

"During the silent auction," she picked up effortlessly, "our band will take the stage. We want you all to enjoy this and take your time mingling or seeing what gifts we have.

"Then our speaker for the night, Dr. Howe Luis, is going to take command and speak for a few minutes on the importance of our mission at the Muller Foundation. We'll finish the evening with more music and, if you are so inclined, dancing."