Bertram sat dead center, Alexis curled in his arms. The two of them flirted openly, shamelessly, right under my nose.
I told myself I could endure it. Just hold on until the party ended. Then the spinning wheel's pointer stopped in front of me.
"Well, well, what do we have here? A little lady!"
One bold man spoke first. When the man in the center didn't so much as glance up, the rest turned to me with leering grins.
"Since it's a lady, we'll go easy. One button undone, one drink. Three buttons, three drinks!"
"Don't listen to him, sweetheart. I'll only make you undo two. With a body like that, you should give us a little dance!"
The whole room erupted in laughter.
I pressed my lips together as their demands grew filthier, one after another.
But what shattered me wasn't them.
It was Bertram.
He was peeling a grape, head bowed, placing it gently between Alexis's lips.
"They say eating grapes during pregnancy makes the baby's eyes bigger."
"Really? Then I'd better have a few more."
Their voices were soft, barely above a murmur, yet somehow they cut through the music and the vulgar jeering and reached me with perfect clarity.
Did he love her that much?
Enough to sit there while his own wife was humiliated and not spare a single glance?
My throat sealed shut, packed tight as if someone had shoved a fistful of wet cotton down it. I couldn't even form a cry.
Then one voice rose above the rest.
"A man and a woman, alone in a room, ten minutes!"
Bertram's hands finally went still.
Like the first time we'd met, ten years ago, his gaze found mine across the crowd.
Only this time was nothing like that day. The eyes that should have been filled with love were murky, distant, hollow.
He seemed to read the plea in my eyes. He stood.
Just as I thought there might be a shred of conscience left in him, his words plunged me into ice.
"Prudence, games have rules. Stop being so dramatic."
I stared at him in disbelief. He was willing to push me toward a stranger, just like that? He didn't even care about his own reputation?
"If you don't want to do it, drink. Three glasses. That's all. Stop wasting everyone's time."
He'd forgotten. He'd actually forgotten that I was severely allergic to alcohol. Three glasses could kill me.
After a long silence, I drew a slow breath and spoke, my voice flat and even. "I'll take the room."
The words landed like a slap. Every face in the room went rigid, including Bertram's.