Clifton Phillips is twenty-four years old. Younger than Mercedes. He’s the firstborn of three Phillips sons. He comes from a Founding Family, although their fortunes have declined over the last decade or so. They still have money, but it’s nothing to the De La Rosa or Montgomery fortunes. I wonder how much that has to do with the attention and compliments he pours over Mercedes. Her inheritance would bolster the Phillips’s. Give him a nice cushion.

I put that thought aside. Mercedes is smart. She has her own agenda with Clifton, and of the two of them, I know he’s the one I should worry about. As I sip my scotch, I consider how good my invitation to Clifton will look. As Mercedes’s guardian, I have invited this man into my home to court her. I already mentioned it to my mother so I can be sure news will travel to Hildebrand and throughout The Society. It should at least dispel some of the rumors circulating about us.

The two of them share a private joke, and I catch the seductive way Mercedes has of looking at men. She casts that thick-lashed glance at me while setting her hand on Clifton’s knee. I know I am her target. I swallow a little more scotch, my hand a jealous fist around the crystal. “I believe dinner is ready,” I say, gesturing to the dining room.

“Your home is beautiful, Judge,” Clifton says as Mercedes shimmies her sweet round ass ahead of us. I catch Clifton’s too eager gaze on it even as he speaks to me.

I wait to respond, and when he realizes I’ve caught him, he clears his throat, face flushing with embarrassment. “Thank you, Clifton.” I set my hand on his shoulder a little too heavily. “She is lovely, isn’t she? Hard not to look. But she is a Society daughter. And I don’t want to see your eyes on her ass again, am I clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

Sir. Christ. What a fucking pussy.

“Coming?” Mercedes asks from the entrance to the dining room.

I pat Clifton’s back hard enough that he jerks forward.

Mercedes gives me a look as he passes her into the dining room.

I shrug a shoulder and take my place at the head of the table. I’ve set Mercedes to my right. Clifton is at the foot.

“You know what? I’ll move down here with you,” Mercedes tells Clifton, asking Lois to reset her place beside Clifton’s. Lois looks at me, and I reluctantly nod. Although I admit it was childish to set him there. Like putting him at the kid’s table.