I shoot my sister a hardened glare. “Yes, I’ve informed my family I’d be bringinga guestthis year.”
“Yes.” Sophie feigns a sweet, innocent smile. “A guest.” My sister and I exchange a silent battle of ‘fuck yous’ before she sings, “Well? Shall we head inside?” She glances toward the ground. “No bags?”
Emery fiddles with her fingertips. “It was all last minute… I didn’t get a chance to?—”
“No worries!” Sophie shoots me a curious side-eye as she latches onto Emery’s arm. “We’ll remedy your wardrobe situation tomorrow. Let me show you your rooms quickly. Supper is almost ready, and we can’t keep Daddy waiting, can we?”
I wince inwardly. Perhaps I should’ve prepared Emery for Sophie’s animated theatrics.
As the three of us make our way inside the villa, I can't help but chuckle at Emery's bewildered expression as my sister talks her ear off about this year’s holiday itinerary. I only expected Emery to come for the fundraiser, but given what’s transpired in the last twenty-four hours, I think she’ll want to stay for the entire holiday.
Sophie leads us through the grand foyer, guiding us upstairs to the guest suites. She opens the door to Emery's room. It’s spacious and warm. Warm, just like Emery. Despite what she thinks, she is the sun.
"Here you go, darling," she says with a smile. "I hope you'll find it to your liking."
Emery nods, still processing my sister’s overly cheery disposition. "Thank you," she manages to say, gaze darting to the double doors at the back of her room. “Those are?”
Sophie grins. “Doors, darling. You know, socially constructed barriers to keep peopleout?” She wiggles her antagonizing brows at me. “Orin.” Emery blinks, unsure if Sophie is joking or not. Sophie giggles. “It’s an adjoining room, dear. Q’s on the other side. I figured this way, you’d be closer in case of…emergencies.”
“How considerate, Soph,” I say with a tight smile. “Always looking out for people, aren’t you?”
"Yes, just call me your little guardian angel, hmm?” Sophie claps her hands. “Right. Well, I'll let you get settled in," she says, giving Emery a friendly pat on the back before turning tome. "And you, little brother. I'm sure you remember your way around, or should I remind you where the loo is again?” She lowers her voice into a faux whisper. “Years ago, poor Quinny here got totally sloshed and wee’d in the coat closet.”
Emery snorts, covering her mouth, and my pride shatters upon the impact of her blabbering mouth. “We’ll see you in the dining lounge, Sophie,” I say, escorting her out of the suite as Emery explores the room. My grip tightens around my sister’s shoulder as I grumble into her ear. “You are a complete and utter brat. What are you doing?”
Sophie reaches for my fingers and twists them, glaring up at me as pain shoots through my arm. “Humanizing you, you little baboon. Women find flaws to be endearing. I can tell by the way you look at her, you’re smitten. I’m just trying to help.”
“By telling her I have weak bladder control?!” I whisper harshly, shoving her out of the suite. “Brilliant. Can’t wait to see your next trick.”
“You’re welcome,” Sophie sings with a final wink before she disappears down the hall. I close my eyes, regaining my composure before I rejoin Emery.
“Apologies,” I say, scratching the back of my head. “My sister can be…a lot.”
“Yeah…” Emery looks at me with a mix of uncertainty and curiosity. "She’s, uh, quite...energetic.”
"That's one way to put it," I reply with a wry smile. "But she means well, trust me. She just likes to make an impression."
Emery’s expression softens. “I can see that. She’s very…memorable.”
"Indeed," I say, my heart warming at her attempt to make light of the situation. Clearing my throat, I motion to the adjoining room. “I’m going to quickly freshen up then we can head down. Ten minutes?”
“Sure,” Emery says, reaching for her purse. “Ten minutes.”
I spend the entire ten minutes splashing cold water on my face. For fuck’s sake. Perhaps bringing her here wasn’t the brightest of ideas. A knock sounds from the doors. Shit. Alright. It’ll be fine. It’ll all be fine. All I need to do is survive my father’s initial charge, and we’ll be fine.
Emery cocks her head as I step into the hall to greet her. “Are you okay? You look a little…pale.”
“And you look absolutely stunning,” I say, dodging her keen observation. “Shall we?”
I place my palm on the small of Emery’s back, the faint connection grounding me as we make our way downstairs. As we appear in the dining lounge, five sets of eyes fix on us. Emery's spine stiffens against my touch, and I give her a tender rub, soothing both of our nerves.
The dining lounge is decorated with a long mahogany table set for dinner, adorned with fine china and crystal glassware. The soft glow of candlelight dances across the room.
As we approach the table, my father stares at us, trying to size up Emery. Her posture straightens as she attempts to keep her composure under his blatant scrutiny. Seated beside my father, my brother, William, raises a curious eyebrow at us, while his wife Ella, sips on a martini. Sophie and her beau-of-the-week toss us a supportive smile as we reach the head of the table.
"Quinton, lovely to see you, son," my father says with a nod, but his gaze shifts to Emery, and a sour taste coats my tongue. "This is Emery, I presume?”
“Yes.” I step aside, nudging Emery forward. "Father, this is Emery Jones. Emery, my father, Charles Marquis."
