His sister approached and proffered her face so he could kiss her on each cheek.
‘Oh you know, usual society wedding.’
His vagueness pissed her off.
‘Is that all?’
Lysander grinned and shrugged.
‘Erm, the dress was… nice? And you must have heard about Simon Le Bon and the Heimlich manoeuvre already?’
Anastasia rolled her eyes and removed a large clip-on earring as she approached the drinks trolley and examined the bottles.
‘Where’s Dimi?’ Lysander asked.
‘He’s taking a bath,’ Anastasia said, as if bathing were a weakness. ‘Nanny Iris took the kids back to school and– where’s Dad and Kiki?’ Anastasia looked around, as if they might be hiding behind the door. ‘I looked for her to see if she wanted to join us for arivetinggame of Monopoly last night,’ Anastasia said sarcastically, ‘but she wasn’t here.’
‘She went shopping in Milan, stayed over…’ Lysander raised an eyebrow.
‘I guess it’s tiring spending our inheritance,’ Anastasia said, as she took off her other earring.
‘You don’t need to worry about that.’
‘Don’t I?’ Anastasia scrutinised her brother.
Lysander was very aware he might be breaking his father’s trust, and it wouldn’t be prudent for Anastasia to know about it yet, so he deftly changed the subject.
‘Anyway she’s back– they’ve gone for dinner at the Kristall Palace, I didn’t fancy joining them.’
‘You and me neither,’ Anastasia said querulously.
‘Anyway, what about you sis? What’s turning you on at the moment?’
Anastasia picked up a bottle and paused. It would have been nice for Lysander or the butler to fix her a drink, but if she must…
‘What?’ she asked, defensively.
‘Well it’s not shopping, and it’s not the Anna Maria…’
Lysander felt a little guilty about the conversation he’d had with his father about succession. He had nudged him towards Vivian, when Anastasia would be so hurt. But looking at it through his lawyer’s lens, truths were truths. Vivian would be a much safer pair of hands for the Steinherr portfolio.
Anastasia sighed as she poured herself a Pernod and added ice from the bucket with silver tongs.
‘You seem… not yourself sis. What would make Anastasia Diamandis happy?’
She took a large sip and strode elegantly to the fireplace with the freakish family portrait above it, before turning around and hesitating for a second.
The butler walked in.
‘Another drink, sir? Madam?’
‘I have one, thanks…’ Anastasia said crisply, raising her glass.
‘I’ll take a negroni thanks, Kristaps,’ Lysander smiled.
‘Make that two,’ Anastasia commanded, as she took another large sip of her Pernod.
‘Very well,’ the butler bowed, as he retreated to the kitchen, where a more abundant bar was stocked.
