She parted her lips, but after a second snapped them closed. Oh yes. Only proper decorum and being potential fodder for gossip trumped getting in the last word.
âCherise, itâs so wonderful to see you again,â a feminine voice intruded.
The pleasant, soft tone shouldnât have scraped him raw, leaving an oily slide of disgust. He didnât need to glance behind him to identify the woman. Heâd be able to identify that dulcet tone, that light floral scent anywhere.
Identify it, then crucify it.
âAdalyn,â his mother crooned, a smile erasing her frown as she moved toward Adalyn Hayes with outstretched arms. âDonât you look beautiful?â
Grayson shifted to the side, studying his mother as she warmly embraced his ex-girlfriend. The woman whoâd almost become Mrs. Grayson Chandler.
The woman whoâd stabbed him so deeply in the back he still had phantom pains from the scar a year and a half later.
She hadnât changed at all. Still stunningly beautiful with oval-shaped green eyes, delicate features, pretty mouth and long sleek hair as dark as a ravenâs wingâor as dark as her heart. A midnight blue gown that glittered as if stars had been sewn into it clung to her small breasts and willowy frame before flowing over slender hips to pool around her feet.
No, she hadnât changed a bit. But he had.
That beauty no longer stirred desire inside him. Those embers had long turned to dust, incapable of being lit ever again.
âGrayson,â Adalyn purred, turning to him and linking her arm through his motherâs. âI didnât know you would be attending the gala this year. Itâs wonderful seeing you.â
âHello, Adalyn.â
Damn if heâd lie just for the sake of pleasantries.
âIâve missed you,â she murmured as if his mother had disappeared and just the two of them existed in the crowded ballroom of the North Shore mansion. âWe need to get together for dinner and catch up with one another.â
âI love that idea,â his mother chimed in, patting Adalynâs hand. âWeâve missed you, too. I was planni ng a dinner party for next week. You and your parents are invited. Iâll call your mother to officially issue the invitation.â
The conversation sounded benign, but something seemed...off. Too jovial. Too neat.
Too false.
âMatchmaking, Mother?â he asked, infusing a boredom into his tone that didnât reflect the cacophony of distaste and rage roiling inside him like a noxious cloud. âYou donât think this is a little beneath you?â
âNot when you insist on flitting from woman to woman, behaving like a male whore,â she snapped, and no, it wasnât the first time heâd heard those words.
Manwhore. Playboy. Embarrassment. But again, that damn not-so-thick skin. The barbed insult pricked him like the cockleburs that would sting his fingers when he visited his grandmotherâs horse farm as a child. Back then, heâd plucked them off and rubbed away the nip of pain. Now, with his ex a witness to his motherâs disdain, those nips drew blood.
Deliberately curling his lips into a mocking smirk, he bowed slightly at the waist. âThank you, Mother.
Now tell me what you really think because I sense youâre holding back.â
She scoffed, returning her attention to Adalyn who watched him with a gleam in her eyes. A gleam that heralded trouble. For him.
âYouâre thirty years old and itâs time to put away such childish behavior. The future CEO of Chandler International needs a good woman by his side supporting him. The board will not endorse or accept a man whose name and picture ends up on those dirty little gossip websites as often as the business section.â
He stiffened. The smile he gave his mother was brittle, felt close to cracking right down the middle.
âWell then I guess itâs a good thing I donât intend to be the future CEO of Chandler International. Which makes the board and my love life nonissues. Now, if youâll excuse me, I see several people I need to speak with.â Bending his head, he brushed a kiss over his motherâs cheek. âMother. Adalyn.â
Without waiting for the diatribe about his rudeness, he pivoted and strode away from the two women, the noose that had slowly been tightening around his neck loosening with each step.
He shouldâve seen this coming. His mother had been less than subtle about her wishes for him to settle down and marry. Especially in the last six months.
Since Jason had died.
The thought of his brother lanced him through the chest, a hot poker that hadnât cooled in the time since his death. With a thirteen-year age difference and the knowledge that Jason was the favorite between them, they hadnât been close. But Grayson had loved his older brother, respected him. And the tragic randomness of a brain aneurysm had only made Jasonâs death harder to accept.