We pause as the servers change over the food. The main course isn’t met with any more enthusiasm than the last, at least from our table. At the four others dotted about the room, people are far more complimentary. They have to be. Half of them are trusted lieutenants employed by my dad and the other half are on the way into his favour or sliding out of it.
Once you get past the immediate family level, the pecking order gets fairly aggressive. Last year, after my father hosted asimilar party, three of the guests later killed each other in a round robin of desperation, trying to upgrade their place.
George spears a piece of food that colour suggests will be a carrot and texture suggests will be jelly. One bite and she struggles to get it down, so I guess it tastes like neither.
Her attention returns to me. “Your performance tonight has been quite entertaining.”
“This isn’t the performance.” I drop my voice lower and move until my lips are almost pressed against her ear. “I’m saving that for the afterparty.” When she shivers, I take an aggressive sip of my water, taking delight in her sudden discomfort. “Want to put in some requests?”
Servers gather around the table, switching out the mains for tiny plates of some meringue-based dessert.
My date is suddenly tongue-tied, adjusting her bra.
“You’re going to uni?” When she nods, I tease, “And what fabulously useful degree are you going to study?”
“Accounting.”
I blink in surprise. If I’d had to guess it would have been art or music or photography or something equally creative. “You have a burning desire to type numbers into boxes?”
“And reconcile invoices. You forgot the best part.” She adjusts her bra again without thinking, her attention still focused on our conversation.
The repeated gesture makes me frown. “Did Tandi pick out the wrong size?”
George shakes her head, wariness lurking behind a strained smile.
“If you want someone to feel you up, I’m willing. You don’t have to resort to self-satisfaction.”
She jerks her hand down to her side again, fingers curling into fists. “I was just…”
“What do you have tucked in there? Another phone?” I lean across, slipping my fingers into the deep neckline of her dress, then sliding them inside the bra cup farthest from me. She closes her eyes, jaw clenching. Her nipple hardens against my wandering fingers. “Everything feels okay to me,” I say with a grin as I withdraw. “But if you ever want a free breast check, I’m game.”
“Can you keep your hands off your date’s tits?” my father snarls, clearly losing whatever small pinch of patience he has left with me. “It’s bad enough you bring a complete stranger along to a family event, now you’re going to grope her in front of us, too?”
My gaze lazily travels to meet his and I incline my head a fraction, hearing the ice crack beneath my feet. “I’m not sure we’re taking requests just yet, but I’ll think about it.”
He stands, leaning forward and glaring at me. “The study. Now.” He throws his napkin on the table and storms away, not checking to see if I follow.
“Lockie, be care—”
I shove my chair back, ignoring my mother’s plea. The same old anger that’s been bubbling beneath the surface since he made me take my place here sends up a geyser of fiery rage.
This stupid dinner is nothing but a showcase of the ins versus the outs, designed to impress the stranger to his right. The man he didn’t bother to introduce to me even though I’m meant to be second in line.
Another spurt of fury erupts as I think of Kari. Sure, we’re not in love, sometimes I don’t think we even like each other. But I’ve been playing the game as hard I can, not making waves, pretending that we’re a genuine couple.
Where the fuck does she get off cancelling on me?
We’re meant to be in it together. That’s the only thing that makes any of it bearable.
I glance back at the table to see everyone’s gone back to their conversations. Only George stares after us, her forehead wrinkled in concern. Not for herself but forme.
When I read the emotion in her face it warms me, filling me far more than the disastrous meal. She offers a tentative smile and I walk back a few steps, stopping beside the maid tasked with keeping her in her sights.
“Show George to my room when she’s finished with her dessert. Leave her alone in there, you can go off duty after.”
She gives a tight nod and I lengthen my stride, taking three steps at a time up the staircase to catch up with my father. When he opens the study door, I’m right behind him. I walk into the room first while he slams the door, catching me by the shoulder and swinging me flat against the wall.
We’re the same height but we’re not evenly matched. I still have a few vaguely human impulses whereas the man who sired me feels nothing at all.
