I closed my eyes for a beat. “My pride.”

“I think you left that at the door when you did your walk of shame two years ago.”

“Thank you for the reminder,” I clipped out. As if I really needed one.

She stared me down. “Seriously, Vanessa. You’ve wanted to run this place for as long as I’ve known you. I don’t understand how you could give up so easily.”

My shoulders stiffened. “This isn’t easy. I’m trying to put the foundation first.”

Elle’s snapping brown eyes bored into me. “And you are what’s best for it. So go fix this shit and prove it.”

I exhaled a long breath before replying, “Okay. I’ll do it.”

“Good girl.” She slapped a small piece of paper on the desk in front of me. “And this is where it’s going to go down.”

My swirling emotions slowed in confusion. I looked down at the cream-colored embossed invitation. “The Boys and Girls Club Banquet?”

She produced several more sheets paper. “Here’s the guest list. And guess who’s on it.”

I grabbed it from her and stared at the highlighted name. “No way. Why would Con be going?”

Elle shook her head. “That’s a question you’re going to have to answer for yourself, because I think I’ve hit my limit of solutions for the day. I’ve earned a bottle of wine. Or two.”

I scanned the invitation. There were awards being handed out to several of the kids who participated in the program. Good money said one of them trained at Con’s gym.

And he’d RSVP’d to a $5,000-a-plate fundraiser to be there in support of the kid.

I looked back to Elle. “Do I have a date for this?”

She laughed, a cackle if I’d ever heard one.

“I love that you have to ask me if you have a date. Do I look like your assistant? I’m surely not.”

“Sorry. I just…”

“I know…I’m the keeper of your social calendar by default. No, you don’t have a date. Simon was originally going to go with you, but…”

“Right. Okay. So I’m going alone.” Which meant it would be easier to corner Con and make my last ditch effort at begging without an audience.

“But you’re seated at the VIP table. With the keynote speaker,” Elle added.

“That’s fine.”

I mentally flipped through the contents of my wardrobe. My confidence was going to need a serious boost to do this. There was one dress I hadn’t yet worn. It wasn’t scandalous, just more body-conscious than I was usually willing to wear. When I’d tried it on in the dressing room, I’d felt…strong. Capable. Like a woman who knew what the hell she was doing and what she wanted.

I looked at the clock. I had three hours until the fundraiser. Three hours to apply my war paint and armor and come up with a strategy. I had to find some way to get Con Leahy alone and convince him to donate that damn property.

Elle was right. I’d had a moment of temporary insanity. I was not walking away from my dream—my heritage—without a fight.

I stood in the shadows of the bar, nursing my Jack and Coke, as I watched her flit around the crowd. A perfect social fucking butterfly. She moved from one group to the next, making conversation and smiling her polite company smile. That smile was nothing like the one I’d seen on her face when her cheek was smudged with strawberry jam—before we’d both lost our tempers, and she’d walked out on me. Again.

I didn’t know when I started making a study of her different smiles, but I could tell this one was practiced. It was the one that graced the society pages. While she always looked fucking gorgeous, this smile wasn’t going to launch a million ships or whatever the hell the saying was. There was something missing from it. It didn’t reach her eyes.

She turned and visibly stiffened. Apparently my subtle observation of her was actually several notches less than subtle. But it wasn’t shock I saw on her face. Whatever that emotion was, it was wiped away so quickly I wondered if I’d really seen it. Her perfect façade was in place again—except for the pointed look in my direction and one raised eyebrow.

Yeah, princess, you caught me. I’m watching you. I’d watched her from the sidelines more times over the past two years than I would care to admit. Hell, even longer than that. I wondered if I’d ever get out of the high school mindset where I was the charity case and she was the perfect princess I’d accused her of being. God I hoped so. It was time to grow up. I shifted and adjusted the collar of my tux.

And yeah, you heard me right. My tux. I would’ve worn jeans and a T-shirt if I hadn’t given a shit, but I did. Not because I’d expected Vanessa to be here—which I had—but because I was here to support Trey. I couldn’t very well force him to wear a tux and not wear one myself. Even though I’d rented his, you couldn’t help but see the pride in his eyes when he’d walked out to my car tonight. He looked good, and he deserved his moment to shine.

He was the poster boy for success of an organization like this one. The only son of a single mother working three jobs, raised in the projects, and completely at risk for joining a gang. But he was smart, and his mama wanted more for him than a short life that would end with a drive-by bullet. So she started sending him to the Boys and Girls Club when he was young. They kept him out of trouble and up to his eyeballs in activities. He’d moved up to be part of the afterschool staff and a mentor. He’d started training with my guys over a year ago and dropped down to two days a week at the Club. The program director had been downright suspicious and had hauled his ass over to the gym to talk to me himself to make sure Trey was staying out of trouble. We came to an understanding: Any of the boys who wanted to box or had anger issues that required a little more…physical activity…to keep them in line, he’d send my way, and I’d vowed on my mother’s grave to keep them on the straight and narrow the best I could.

So tonight, Trey was receiving the Boy’s Award for Excellence. His mom had been excited to come, but at the last minute, she’d been called in to work. Too afraid to say no and lose a vital piece of their income, she’d consented. So I was the only one here for him. I turned to watch Trey being paraded around by the director to meet all of the big wigs. He hadn’t yet been introduced to Vanessa, and in this town, she certainly qualified as a big wig. I wondered if he’d recognize her in a designer dress, since he’d last seen her in a T-shirt and simple cotton skirt. My guess was probably not.