Craved: A Chosen Ones Novel by Nia Davenport Page B

at the Fox that evening, I had to admit that its Egyptian ballroom was beautiful. Its lavish decorations complete with sweeping columns and ornamentations that paid homage to its name were breathtaking to behold. As much as I hated attending the events my grandmother held in the ballroom that was a favorite of hers, I always enjoyed looking at its interior design architecture while I was there.  
    “Alexandria. Whitney.”   My grandmother spotted me the minute I entered. Knowing her she’d instructed the security guy at the door to have her alerted the second I arrived. I swear the woman was like a shark scenting blood.
    I winced at her use of my full name. “Grandmother,” I greeted her with a sugary sweet smile returning the favor.  
    She eyed Chase and Whitney’s date. The scrutinizing look on her face communicating that she was unimpressed. “You both brought guests,” her tone was as condescending as her facial expression.
    My smile widened. Maybe Whitney inviting Chase along wasn’t such a bad idea after all. My grandmother clearly disapproved of him as my escort and anything that annoyed the hell out of her was whipped cream with a cherry on top for me.
    “It is nice to meet you Mrs. Sinclair. My name is Chase Vincent. I work with Alex andria. Thank you for the invitation.” Chase gallantly introduced himself making every attempt to be charming.
    It was wasted effort. My grandmother couldn’t be charmed by anything but status and money.  
    She pursed her lips into a thin line, then curtly nodded her head. “Technically, I did not invite you. Alexandria did…”
    “Where is Granddad?” I cut her off before she could really get started.
    “He was called away unexpectedly on business. He is in New York until next week.”
    Great. So he got out of this but I couldn’t.
    My grandmother’s attention diverted to the ballroom’s entrance. “The Monahans have arrived and I saw Richard and Celeste walk in a little while ago. Come Alexandria. Let us greet our guests.”
    You mean your guests , I wanted to mutter but I held my tongue in mixed company.  
    “After you Grandmother,” I said instead.  
    Before turning away dismissively from my guests she deemed to inform them that there were cocktails and hors d’oeuvres and the table with the number one marker was reserved for us. Her tone portrayed the picture of southern hospitality.  
    Twenty minutes later I joined Whitney, Chase and her date at our table which was blessedly by the bar. After nearly half an hour of rubbing elbows alongside my grandmother with Atlanta’s finest I needed a drink.  
    I covetously eyed the crystal glasses already at the table. “Looks like y’all got the party started without me.”
    “We did. But we also got you one too,” Whitney grinned at me.   She pushed a half full glass in front of the empty seat beside Chase.  
    “Have fun?” He said giving me a knowing smirk as he stood and pulled the chair out for me.  
    I sat down. “Yeah, about as much fun as having a root canal.”
    Whitney rolled her eyes at me. “I just saw you talking to the Mayor, the owner of the Falcons, the Governor, and several movie stars. Some people have all the luck and don’t even appreciate it.”
    “Well next time feel free to be paraded around in my place.” My fruity cocktail drink tasted good going down but after the last twenty minutes I’d spent at my grandmother’s side I would have preferred to be knocking back a shot of tequila. I eyed the open bar, briefly toying with the idea of doing so then dismissed it. My grandmother would blow a gasket and while I lived to irk her, I had enough manners to do it in private and not in public.  
    The live musicians playing on stage changed the tempo of their tunes from boring elevator music to something a bit more lively and better fit for dancing.  
    “Kellen,” Whitney turned to her date with a smile that meant she was up to no good. “I want to dance. Come on.” She stood