“SPENCER DONATO, tell me the truth. Are you trying to make my sister jealous?”
I do a double take, Carolina Lancaster smiling at me, appearing infinitely amused. Although she’s the youngest of the Lancaster siblings, she’s also the most composed.
And the hardest to read.
“What do you mean?” I ask carefully.
We’re in the Lancaster ballroom, where my best friend’s wedding reception is being held. The room is filled with the some of the country’s—if not the world’s—richest people. There are dignitaries and politicians in attendance. World leaders and plenty of royalty too. Supermodels and celebrities and I even hear Harry Styles is going to perform later, which wouldn’t surprise me at all.
When the Lancasters do something, they go big.
“Escorting me after the ceremony. Standing next to me right now, while Sylvie pretends to not see us.” A soft laugh escapes Carolina and I glance over at her, momentarily taken by the small smile playing upon her lips. She’s grown into a beautiful woman, which is expected. The Lancasters have impeccable lineage and impossibly good looks. “You’re playing with fire.”
“She’s burned me enough times already,” I admit. And I have the scars to prove it.
“I thought you were in love with each other,” Carolina continues. “I even believed you two would get married.”
“Your mother would never approve.”
“You think she approves of Whit’s choice?” The laughter booms from Carolina, surprising me. She’s always so quiet, so careful with her words. “My mother is infuriated right now. She just knows how to put on a brave face.”
All the Lancasters can. It’s in their blood.
“You were probably smart, not marrying Sylvie,” Carolina muses.
“Why would you say that?” Am I not good enough? I know my lineage isn’t as solid as the Lancasters, but damn. Whit just married his father’s ex-lover’s daughter. Janine is just a social climber who got a reputation for sleeping with very wealthy, very married men. Not that Summer is like her mother, but…
It doesn’t look good, this marriage. Not that Whit gives a damn.
“You might’ve ended up dead within the first year, like Earl.”
I send her a sharp look. “He died of old age.”
Carolina shrugs. “If you say so.”
I turn her words over in my mind as I glance about the room, hating the annoyance that grows within me and I tamp it down. It’s a good day and nothing should get me down. My best friend is married, and that alone is worthy of a celebration. Whit hates everyone. If he allows you into his inner circle, you should feel honored. He doesn’t open himself to others very often, if at all.
But I can’t stop thinking of Sylvie and that old man she married. They didn’t have a lavish ceremony like Whit and Summer. I don’t think they had any kind of party at all, not even a reception. Almost as if they wanted to keep the marriage a secret, instead of showing it off, which makes no damn sense.
Earl Wainwright was connected. Revered. Rich as fuck.
And a total piece of shit.
“Lina. Spencer.” Augustus Lancaster himself stops in front of us, smiling fondly at his youngest daughter before he tugs her into his arms and squeezes her tight. Carolina remains visibly rigid in his embrace, as if she can’t stand the idea of him touching her and the memories come back to me.
Carolina doesn’t like to be touched at all. She never really has. Even when I looped my arm through hers to lead her back into the house, she held herself away from me, our arms barely touching.
Once he’s released Carolina, Augustus turns toward me, offering his hand. I shake it, giving him a firm grip, just the way he likes it. The Lancaster patriarch prefers a firm touch, a solid handshake, a manly hug with slaps on the back. He considers himself a man’s man, unapologetic for his behavior even if it’s misogynistic, homophobic, whatever. He’s offensive, he smokes, he drinks, he gambles. Then he goes to church, confesses his sins and gains forgiveness.
Repeat, and repeat again. The man is a throwback to a different era. His children are nothing like him. Well, Whit is similar in some behaviors, which is what drew me to him. He flat out doesn’t give a fuck what other people think about him, and that’s easy to do when you’re as rich as he is.
I wanted to be like that. Still do. As I’ve gotten older, I find myself not caring as much what people think of me.
With the exception of these damn Lancasters. For some reason, their opinions matter to me.
Too much.
“How are you, Spence? Heard you’ve been working closely with the old man.” His grin is knowing. I think he even winks at me.
Ignoring it, I nod, shoving my hands into my pockets. “I’ve been working a lot lately, yes.”
That’s all I say. I can feel Carolina’s curious gaze on me. She wouldn’t know much about the Donato family business. She never paid much attention to me and she’s a solid four years younger than I am. Besides, she’s been out of the country for the most part, save that one year her parents forced her to come home and attend Lancaster Prep for her senior year.
Augustus chuckles. “Glad to hear it. Hard work is good for the soul.”
Before I can respond, someone calls his name, distracting him completely. He smiles and waves, leaving us standing in his wake as he walks away.
“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 seeing her.
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.”
“Are you saying no one matters to her?” I rub the side of my jaw, tempted to undo the bow tie around my neck that suddenly feels as if it’s strangling me. I wear a suit almost every damn day of my life, yet this one is somehow suffocating me.
“Sylvie is in her own little world. You know this. We all know this.” We angle our heads toward each other, and Carolina sends me a look, one that tells me she sees all. “Our mother created that monster.”
“You think Sylvie is a monster.” My tone is flat, and I’m definitely not asking like it’s a question. There are many ways I could consider Sylvie a monster, though I don’t.
“We all are, in our own way. I tried to escape it, but they lured me back anyway.” Carolina reaches out and pats my arm in a sisterly fashion before snatching it back, which I find shocking. She so rarely touches anyone willingly. “Looks like she lured you back as well. You’re just as fucked as the rest of us.”
A buzz sounds from Carolina’s white Chanel bag, and she pulls her phone out, frowning at the text message she receives. Her gaze never straying from the screen, she murmurs, “I need to go.”
Before I can say a word, she’s walking away.
I watch as Carolina leaves me, as graceful as ever. Heads turn as she passes, her nose in the air, a serene expression on her face. As if nothing could ever bother her. Her sister has a similar attitude and expression, moving about the guests at the reception as if she’s the hostess. Pausing at tables, greeting everyone with a smile and I’m sure a kind word.
Still hasn’t come over to talk to me though.
Pushing away from the wall, I move through the room just like Sylvie, going in the opposite direction of her. There are plenty of people I know who are in attendance. Kids I went to school with. All of them business associates now. I smile and nod as we pass each other. Even stop a couple of times to chat with some of them for a few minutes. All the while I can feel eyes on me, tracking my every movement. Icy blue and all-seeing.
Finally giving in to my urges, I glance over my shoulder to find Sylvie watching me while standing within a circle of people. The conversation is animated with plenty of hand gestures and laughter, but Sylvie doesn’t react. Her expression is blank, her gaze heavy. She’s too caught up in staring at me.
I look away, irritation making my blood run hot. I am not the same person I was the last time we were together. When she unexpectedly showed up at my apartment late at night, naked beneath her thick winter coat. Drinking way too much champagne before she fucked me and slipped away while I was sleeping. Never to be heard from again.
Her engagement was announced within days of that encounter. Her quickie wedding held soon after that. I realized then that the girl I’d known, the girl I loved for far too long…
Wasn’t who I thought she was.
At all.
