I chuckled. Free anything didn’t have meaning to me. We climbed the front steps together. The marble gleamed. As the doors swung open the music from the band blared. Parker and I had been friends since we were kids. We grew up in the organization. Each of us the first-born son, poised to take over one day. Our families were allies. Always a plus.
“Bar’s this way. I’ll be right back.” I lost Parker when he disappeared in the crowd.
I strolled past the guests, looking for an easy exit. The fewer the people, the better. That was impossible with this kind of setting.
“Knight, you made it!” Suddenly a blur of white hurdled toward me. It was Seraphina in a beaded gown. My younger sister wiggled past an older couple and threw herself at my chest.
“This is some party.” I peeled her off me. Her blue eyes flickered. She looked terrified. The way she looked when I had once dared her to touch the drain in the deep end of the pool. She was only five then.
Seraphina tugged on my elbow, dragging me to an empty hallway.
“What’s going on?” I asked. “Aren’t you having a good time?”
“Are you still smoking?” She scrunched her petite nose. “I can smell it on you.”
I groaned. “I’m not up for a lecture on cigarettes.”
“It’s gross. You should stop. And if Mother knew—””
I exhaled. “What do you need? Did someone drop a platter of hors d’oeuvres?”
“No,” she snapped. “I don’t care about the stupid food. It’s this. It’s Brandon and his parents. I don’t know if I can go through with this.” She picked at her nails. “It’s too much. This family is crazy. I don’t want to be a part of it.”
“All families are crazy. You think ours is any better?” My hands landed on her shoulders. “What about Brandon? You two seem like a good fit.”
Her long lashes fluttered until her eyes closed. I could tell she was trying not to cry.
“He’s no different than his parents,” she whispered. “Can’t you help me? I don’t want to marry him. Please, Knight. You have to do something. Get me out of this.”
Seraphina didn’t know about the fight I’d had with our father when he announced the engagement. He was part of the old regime. The old New Orleans that still believed in arranging marriages and brokering deals through offspring.
I sighed. “Sorry, kid. There’s nothing I can do.”
“But you’ll be in charge soon,” she urged. “You’re next in line to run the family. Please.”
I hated that she was begging for her freedom. I hated that she looked to me for salvation. I hated that there wasn’t shit I could do about any of it. Soon was relative. My father was fit and healthy. He walked the golf course twice a week. He played tennis. Swam laps regularly. He wasn’t even sixty.
I shook my head. “Try to make the most of it. You can spend Brandon’s parent’s steak fortune. That could be fun. Take your friends on a trip. Buy a new horse.” She was an avid rider.
Her eyes welled with tears. “I don’t want their fucking steak money.”
“Seraphina, just hang in there.” I didn’t know what else to say. Should I tell her I had already threatened our father? That I pinned him to the desk in his office and hovered my fist inches from his nose. Did I tell her there was enough rage in my body to beat him until his nose fractured and his skull cracked? Was that the kind of thing that would help at her engagement party to a man she didn’t love?
She leaned against the wall and quickly unsnapped a silver clutch. She began to retouch her red lipstick. “You’ll get to marry who you want. You know that?” I heard the accusatory tone. The resentment. The anger my little sister had bottled up in her voice.
She dabbed the corners of her eyes to remove the smudged mascara before she snapped the clutch shut.
“We’ll talk later. Your guests are waiting.” I nudged here to re-enter the party. “It’s going to work out.”
She plastered a wide smile on her face. “Is this better?” She spun on her five-inch heels and stormed out of the hallway.
By the time I shook enough hands to make it to a spot on the terrace, Parker was on his second drink.
“What happened to you?” he asked.
“I got cornered a few times,” I explained, taking the bourbon from him.
It was quieter outside. The bass from the band vibrated, but at least I could hear myself think. My eyes traveled the distance of the yard. The fence that bordered the property felt like a zoo enclosure. We were New Orleans’s most exotic mafia families confined in one space. The Castilles had installed a pool, along with a cabana house.