She shrugs him off, snapping that she’s fine. A lie, of course. None of us arefine. We never will be.
“Keep walking.” She sniffs, leaning into my side.
I lead us to the black town cars and help Sinclair inside. She grabs my hand, pulling me into the backseat with her.
“What are we going to do without them?” she whispers, staring at me with wide, frightened eyes.
“It’ll be okay.” I squeeze her hand, noting how even her fingers feel like bone.
“Dad’s holding it together for us, I know he is. He was talking about the business yesterday like everything was normal. But he only found out about Mom’s affair after they were gone. It’s too late for him to get any answers from her. I’m scared he’ll shut it all out and not deal with it.”
I turn to look through the window at the dark outline of my father and uncle standing in the rain. Two matching silhouettes with shoulders weighed down by pain and loss.
Twin pillars of grief.
My temples throb as I force away the heavy threat of a migraine.
“Don’t worry,” I say, putting voice to the decision I made the day we lost them both and I saw the utter devastation on my father’s face. “It’s time I took over as CEO. Dad can take all the time he needs.”
“Are you sure?” Sinclair asks; hope making her eyes twinkle.
I’m the eldest of the three of us. Now two of us. This was always the plan. I’d take over the family business. Sinclair would pursue her modeling career. And my brother would be free of the constraints that come with the duties of a first-born. He could run the global marketing like he wanted to do, while living a wild life climbing waterfalls and base-jumping off skyscrapers—two of his favorite pastimes.
I’d snorted when he’d told me I should try base-jumping with him.
Where he got his rush of adrenaline outside of work, from pushing his physical limits, I’ve always got mine from closing deals. From taking risks, where I already know I’ll come out on top. From winning. From knowing that when it comes to business, no one has one like ours.
No one can break apart the Beaufort Empire.
Now, it’s all we have left of them. I need to do everything I can to ensure its continued success.
“I’m sure,” I say. “You don’t need to worry, Sis. I’ll take care of it.”
The noise gets louder. An incessant wail that pauses briefly, then starts again with added defiance.
“What the fuck is that?” I groan, pulling the pillow over my head, but not before seeing the bedside clock reading two a.m.
The funeral, followed by half a bottle of scotch once Claudia and I got back to my apartment, and my head feels like someone’s sawing it in half with a blunt object.
“I think it’s a baby.” Claudia frowns.
I peer out from under the pillow as she sits up in bed beside me.
“Stay. It’ll shut up in a minute.” I fling my forearm over her hips and pull her down onto the mattress, shoving the pillow beneath my head.
She shuffles into me, pushing her silk-clad ass into my crotch. We fit perfectly like this. My dick nestled between her tight, toned ass cheeks. Ones born from a mix of good breeding and an upbringing that included private tennis lessons, and her own pony to play polo on.
Claudia sighs as she melts inside my hold, stroking the back of my forearm tenderly.
“I’m here for you, you know that, right?” she says softly.
“I know,” I reply, kissing the top of her shoulder where the strap of her camisole has slipped down. I squeeze my eyes shut and inhale the notes of her perfume that linger on her skin. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Ssh,” she soothes, tracing light circles over my arm with a fingertip.
I kiss her shoulder again. It’s the truth. She’s been a constant for me when I needed one to cling to. She was the one at the end of the phone, calling me after the accident. Checking on me. The one waiting for me at the airport the day we flew their bodies home. The one who has laid beside me every night since, her gentle, sleeping breaths stopping the silence from devouring me as the memories of that day haunt me.
And she’s the one I asked to marry me after a few short months of dating, because the thought of being alone with those memories was inconceivable.
