“It’s your call, Battle,” Chelsea prompted him.
“What was your point?” Battle repeated Rally’s question.
“As I said—” she began.
“You lied,” he interrupted her.
“I’m just curious,” Chelsea retorted with gathering heat. “She’s spending time with people I care about, and we know practically nothing about her.”
“And you feel it’s your job to vet guests in my home?” Battle queried.
“You all are ripe to be taken advantage of, Battle,” she insulted me not quite to my face, but in very close proximity.
I clenched my teeth.
Tempie tapped the sides of her cards to the table, unmistakably expending effort to keep her mouth shut and allow Battle to field that one.
“Did I hear her right?” I heard Prue demand from the seating area.
“Your father manages hedge funds,” Battle stated. “But he studied at Cambridge, as did his father, and his grandfather, and he bought his first flat in Chelsea with his trust fund. You’re named after that flat. You do nothing. You live off his money. You do it very well. But you’ve never accomplished anything in your life.”
She looked stricken. “Battle?—”
“So let’s get back to your point about asking what Vivienne’s family does,” Battle demanded.
“It was a simple question,” she returned.
“Since I haven’t done it before, let’s not pretend I’ll fall for your bullshit.”
Now she appeared affronted. “I hardly think?—”
Battle sat back, flinging his arm around the back of his chair, but he didn’t take his attention from Chelsea.
Oh boy.
My eyes flew to Tempie.
She looked gleeful.
Shit.
“Let’s get things perfectly straight,” Battle suggested. “You are not better than Vivienne because your father worked hard so you don’t have to do anything. In fact, it’s the opposite. Even if Vivienne was still working as a research librarian, her pedigree is more impressive than yours. The fact she’s published seven books, the last two bestsellers, is an extraordinary accomplishment. You are not going to encourage me to turn my eye to you by pointing out Vivienne works for a living, that her family does, even if they did something where they struggled, or something you thought was beneath you, or me. You are not like me either, Chelsea. I work for a living too.”
“Though, you don’t have to,” she mumbled.
“Do you think this house would run on The Fund alone?” he asked.
Wait.
That was the second time one of the Talyns mentioned “The Fund.”
“Christ, you have no fucking idea,” Battle went on. “And that’s one of your problems.”
Chelsea threw her cards on the table and made a big mistake.
Huge.
She asked, “Oh yes, Battle? Please illuminate me, since I honestly do not understand why you cast me aside. What are all my problems?”
