“Typical,” Carolina mutters, crossing her arms in front of herself.
I say nothing. Definitely don’t argue with her because she’s right. Plus, what the hell does Augustus Lancaster know about hard work? That man has never had to lift a finger his entire life. Everything’s been handed to him.
While I come from wealth, the Donatos work. Hard. It’s expected. It’s tradition.
The party goes on around us while we watch, and I try to take it in as if I’ve never been here before. The black and white parquet floors that shine despite being over one hundred years old. Massive tapestries depict the Lancasters of long ago, as if they came from royalty. The giant chandeliers made of French-cut glass glitter down upon us, casting everyone in attendance in an ethereal glow. Laughing, chattering voices echo in the cavernous room, gentle music playing in the background as servers carry giant round trays laden with dishes. The first course of dinner is served, yet I’m not that hungry.
Not after seeingher.
I suppose I should be happy. I never thought this moment would actually happen. That Whit would actually find someone he truly loved, and who loved him in return. Growing up, we didn’t believe in that shit. His parents divorced, as did mine. As I’ve already noted, our fathers weren’t faithful—and neither was my mother. I have no idea what Sylvia was up to, but I know it wasn’t anything good.
She fucked with her daughter’s head and health, I do know that.
Pushing all thoughts of that evil woman out of my head, I refocus on the party, wondering if I should go find my seat and carry on as if nothing has happened. As if I wasn’t rattled by seeing Sylvie again. Staring into her beautiful blue eyes, the way she looked at me, with reverence. Shock.
Adoration.
That last one, I’m sure I imagined.
The aroma of the food hits my nostrils, making my stomach growl. The food will be delicious, of that I have no doubt. The extravagance unfolding in front of me is nothing short of epic, but would anyone expect anything less from a Lancaster?
I think not.
The house is a monstrosity, built during the time when property tax didn’t exist and the richest of the rich believed they were doing the local economy a favor by employing everyone to build their outrageous homes they only used for the summer.
Most of the homes were eventually donated to historical societies, since the families couldn’t maintain the expenses on such a large estate. Not the Lancasters. They’re still rich enough to afford everything the previous generations built.
Solid investors, every single one of them. Whit is on his way to being one as well. One day, he and Summer will own this house and fill it with all of their many children. Considering Summer is currently pregnant and they already have Augie, I assume they’ll create a football team within the next ten years. Perhaps by then, they’ll be in this house for good and filling every room with their family.
I’m sure the idea of that burns Sylvia Lancaster’s ass. God, I hate that woman.
Her children? I like. One in particular, though she makes me feel as if I’m losing my mind most of the time.
And it’s not the woman currently standing beside me, amused that I’m using her to make her sister jealous. Because I am. It was that or drag Sylvie into a secret room—there are plenty of them in this house, I’ve dragged her into a few of them before, when we were younger and reckless and flat out didn’t give a damn—and have my way with her.
But I’m still too pissed at her to even want to do that. Fuck her for getting married. I don’t care if the man is dead—she married someone else, almost immediately after having sex with me. She gave herself to someone else—let an old bastard she didn’t even know defile her beautiful body that belonged to me.
Every muscle in my body tightening, I clench my hands into fists. Fuck, I hate that so damn much. I watch her now, moving through the crowd in that dress that isn’t what I would call sexy, but she looks damn beautiful wearing it.
So beautiful, she makes my heart ache. And my dick twitch.
She’s talking to everyone, smiling and tipping her head back with laughter, as if she finds what they’re saying so amusing. Though I know what she’s doing.
Faking it. She’s so good at that. Pretty sure I’m the only one she’s ever been real with.
Or maybe I share that honor with her dead husband now. I don’t know.
“You look ready to chew through nails.”
I barely look in Carolina’s direction, exhaling softly and trying my best to relax my muscles while I consider a response.
Instead, I remain quiet, my thoughts riotous. All of them involving the woman I can’t tear my gaze off of.
She’s so damn gorgeous in the sweet blue and white dress. Her blonde hair is loose and flowing, a smile frozen in place that I know is false.
I know her better than she will ever realize, which isn’t reassuring. No matter how well I believe I know her, she always manages to surprise me.
“She’s not the jealous type you know,” Carolina continues, staring straight ahead. She could be talking to anyone, though of course, I know she’s speaking to me. No one else is near us. “There’s no reason for her to be jealous of anyone.”