Desire September 2017 Books 1 -4. Yvonne Lindsay

      One look at Marilyn and she knew her friend was aware of who he was—and possibly the story behind his connection to Royce. But Marilyn’s smile as she turned to him was perfectly polite and diplomatic. “Mr. Nave, I’m surprised to see you here.”

      “These little get-togethers are good for business,” he said, not bothering to look in Marilyn’s direction. “Right, sweetheart?”

      Shock shot through Jasmine. “Excuse me?”

      “I said—”

      “I heard what you said.” Jasmine tightened the hand at her side into a fist, hoping it would help steady her...and her voice. “My name is Jasmine.”

      As if he didn’t already know that. He nodded slowly, continuing to study her.

      Jasmine glanced at her friend, who had let a frown break through her polite mask. Before she could say anything, John spoke again.

      “There are also a lot of different kinds of distractions at these parties. Which are you?”

      Okay, this was a bit much. She’d dealt with the public since she was a teenager and wasn’t about to be walked all over—no matter who he was. She gifted them both with the sweetest smile she could muster. “I think distraction is good for you every now and again.”

      His eyebrow shot up, vaguely reminiscent of Royce when he was being obnoxious. “Not if you want to achieve success.”

      “Depends on the type of success you’re aiming for,” she countered.

      “Very well put,” Don said, as he and Royce joined them. Jasmine had been so focused on John that she hadn’t noticed their approach. “I couldn’t agree with you more, sweet Jasmine.”

      The endearment sounded so much nicer like that.

      Don gave her a direct smile and an encouraging look. “I’ve always maintained that your intelligence is way above average—just like my dear Marilyn’s.”

      Don stepped through the middle of their little gathering to gift his wife with a kiss. Jasmine was relieved to have a break from John’s stare, though her tension was still through the roof.

      “Darling, the caterer was looking for you,” Don said. “Shall we?”

      Marilyn nodded, smiling her goodbyes as Don settled her hand in the crook of his arm and led her away. Jasmine couldn’t help but notice Marilyn didn’t glance toward John. She was probably afraid she’d stick her tongue out at him.

      Jasmine wanted to flip him the bird.

      After the Jeffersons left them, Jasmine noticed that John had turned his stare toward his son. “I’m disappointed in you, Royce.”

      Heaven forbid we should make polite, pleasant conversation...

      Royce wasn’t daunted, though. He cocked his head to the side, looking down at the older man. “I’m not sure why you’re bothering to think of me at all.”

      “As my only progeny, you’d be surprised how often you come to mind. Though I’m disappointed after our last meeting.”

      “Why?”

      John shifted his gaze to Jasmine for only a moment. She could feel her thunderous emotions start to play out in her expression.

      “I see you didn’t take my advice.”

      “This is beginning to feel a little surreal,” Royce said with a quick look around. “This conversation makes no sense whatsoever. Since when have I ever listened to anything you’ve said to me, on the rare occasions when you’ve said anything? Why would I start now?”

      John shrugged, not seeming the least offended. “I’ve always hoped my genes would prevail.”

      “I believe the better genes did. My mother’s.”

      Hear, hear.

      “You can go so much farther, even farther than me, if you remain unattached. I mean, she’s pretty,” John said with a lazy gesture in Jasmine’s direction. “And I’m not saying they aren’t fun to play with...”

      “Wow.” Jasmine was amazed at the scene playing out in front of her...with her as the object of attention. Or, rather, derision. And she was done being a passive bystander. “Royce, let me say I agree with you. The better genes do prevail in you.”

      His father turned his hard gaze her way once more, but she wasn’t backing down.

      “It’s a good thing your opinion doesn’t count. At least, not for long.”

      Royce stepped forward, crowding into John’s space. “Actually, her opinion counts for a whole lot more than yours—and it always will.”

       Fifteen

      Anger pushed Royce to drive mindlessly. He sped out of the Jeffersons’ long drive with a little more acceleration than was necessary. But the squeal of the tires on the asphalt gave him a brief moment of satisfaction.

      He remained silent, teeth clenched, because if he spoke, the rage of years past might spew out on someone who didn’t deserve it. So he locked himself down tight, his fists clenched around the wheel. His gaze was narrowed, focused solely on the road before him.

      Only when they got to the parking garage of his building and he opened her car door did he tune in Jasmine. Her stillness. Her silence.

      I’m not the only one involved.

      He’d forgotten. It had been years since he’d had to worry about a woman’s feelings, a woman’s reactions. He remembered how his mother had internalized everything, taking the burden of whatever they’d endured onto herself as if she simply deserved it.

      Jasmine certainly hadn’t taken anything his father had dished out passively, though she’d maintained her ladylike demeanor better than his father had deserved. Now she sat looking up at him from the passenger seat, but she made no move to exit. Her posture was almost expectant, but his mind wasn’t in a place to comprehend what she was waiting for.

      “Something wrong?” he asked.

      “I’ve been wondering if it was safe to ask you that.”

      As if realizing he was losing patience, she got out of the car but lagged behind as he strode toward the elevator.

      “What?” He winced when his voice echoed off the brick and concrete walls of the garage, and he heard just how impatient he sounded.

      “Do you really want me here?” she asked.

      Her confusion and the lost note in her voice were finally breaking through his self-absorption. He softened his tone. “Unless you don’t want to be here. I can’t stop you from leaving, Jasmine.”

      “You already have.”

      Royce glanced around in confusion. “What?”

      “My car isn’t here,” she pointed out, exaggerating her enunciation, probably hoping he’d catch on.

      That’s when he remembered picking her up at her house. He squeezed his eyes closed and cursed under his breath. How had he let that man get so far under his skin?

      Jasmine.

      Royce opened his eyes and looked at her expression, which was now slightly amused. Though he could still detect some concern lingering around the edges.

      This was why he’d gotten so upset. So angry.

      Royce had become immune to his father’s reprimands and insults throughout the years, though his conversations with his father were few and far between.

      Just the way he liked it.

      So this anger wasn’t about him. More than anything, Royce didn’t want Jasmine