“Always. You've known each other a long time, huh? I didn't even know Mathias had any kids,” Dunn commented. Tate was surprised. Jameson had talked about her family with this guy?

“Yeah, there's two of us, I have an older sister.”

“He mentioned her, too. Sounds like you were very naughty in your younger years.”

She narrowed her eyes. Jameson had talked about that!? And she was liking this Dunn guy less and less. His voice was lascivious, and while normally that wouldn't bother her, he was Jameson's partner. They were in Jameson's home. And she was not the least bit attracted to Dunn. He gave her the creeps on a seismic scale.

“We all have a past, don't we?” she brushed past him, heading to where her cell phone was plugged in and charging.

“Oh yeah. Your past just sounds more interesting,” Dunn told her, following her across the room. She frowned, pretending to concentrate on her phone.

“I'll be sure to let you know when I write my life story,” she responded.

“Or we could get together sometime and you could tell me yourself,” he offered.

She snapped her head up, a little surprised. Though he hadn't spent a lot of time with her at the party, she thought Jameson had made it very clear to everyone that he had some sort of a relationship going on with her. When he would stand next to her, he always draped an arm around her waist. When she had been off by herself, at one end of the pool, he had come up behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, kissed the side of her neck. Turned her to face him while he whispered very dirty things in her ear, his hands running down her body. No one was next to them, but they were well within sight of the other guests. So it was a little bit of a shock to her that his business partner, and friend, was hitting on her.

“I don't think that's a good idea,” Tate laughed, moving to walk past him. He blocked her way.

“Why? Because of Jameson? He won't care, we've shared girls before,” Dunn assured her. She snorted.

“I care, and I say no thank you,” she snapped, trying to go the other way. He moved again.

“Just name your price, I'm sure I can match whatever Jameson offered.”

Tate stood stock still, staring Dunn in the eye. Jameson had told him that? Was telling people he had paid her to sleep with him? It was more of a joke than anything, he had never actually given her any money. She didn't want his friends thinking they could just slip him some cash and they could fuck her in a dark corner of his house. She didn't want Jameson thinking that.

How could he think that!?

“I don't know what you're talking about. Move,” she ordered. Dunn laughed.

“It's okay, I'm okay with it. Jameson's okay with it,” he assured her, stepping closer to her. She backed away.

“Is everything alright?” Sanders' clear voice carried across the room. Dunn whirled around and Tate scurried past him, hooking her arm through Sanders'.

“No, this guy is an asshole,” she said. Dunn laughed.

“Oh, c'mon, I just -,” he started, when Sanders cleared his throat.

“I believe you'll find Mr. Kane in the conservatory, with the rest of the guests,” he interrupted.

“Oh, was he asking for me?” Dunn asked.

“No, but I assumed since you're soliciting services from a woman who has been staying in his home, you would want to discuss it with him first,” Sanders told Dunn, his voice like ice cycles. Dunn's face got hard, and Tate smiled. Apparently Jameson was not “okay with” this little proposition – based on Dunn's face, she would guess that Jameson didn't know anything about it at all.

“We could go together,” Tate offered. “Tell the whole story, do a reenactment. He'd love it. What do you guys think?”

“Whatever you say, Ms. O'Shea,” Sanders replied. Dunn huffed and stomped out of the room. Tate laughed.

“God, did you see his face? What a dick,” she chuckled. Sanders nodded, turning and leading her across the hall, in to the kitchen.

“Clearly. Would you care for a drink, Ms. O'Shea?” he asked. She nodded, and without even having to tell him, he went and grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniel's from a cupboard.

“You treat me so good, Sandy,” she sighed as he sat the bottle on the huge island in the center of the kitchen. He gestured towards the glasses but she shook her head.

“Are you alright, Ms. O'Shea?” he asked in his careful tone. She shrugged, moving around to the other side of the island so she could face him.

“I don't know. I will be,” she replied.

“Did he touch you?”

She lifted her eyes to Sanders, and for once, he was looking back at her. He almost never made direct eye contact with anyone, except for Jameson. His question surprised her. His voice lacked any emotion, like normal, but there was something in his eyes. He was worried about her, concerned. Tate was shocked.

“No, he didn't,” she assured him. He nodded.

“Would you like me to get Mr. Kane?” Sanders offered. She shook her head and twisted the cap off the bottle.

“No,” she laughed, taking a drink.

“I think he should know about this. He would be very upset,” he told her. Tate laughed some more.

“You really think he'd be upset? I don't,” she replied, taking an even bigger swig.

“You're wrong. He cares about you, Ms. O'Shea,” Sanders assured her. She almost spit the liquor out.