“You should go say hi to her. I’m sure you have a lot to catch up on. She was actually just here a few minutes ago… not sure where that girl haswandered off to…” Mrs. Gray’s voice trailed off, her eyebrows furrowing as she peered around at the only exit Evie could have slipped out from. But before she could say anything else, a shrill sound went off and her attention returned to the kitchen table, where a little frog-shaped timer was singing loudly, vibrating against the wood. “I should get back to this. Need to make sure there’s enough for the guests once the conference is over.”
“I could stay and help?” Romeo offered, and he genuinely meant it. He would rather be in the kitchen with Mrs. Gray than listening to a boring hour-long conference. Besides, he’d always loved watching Mrs. Gray bake stuff, and not just because he enjoyed stealing the things she made.
“That’s really kind of you, Romeo, but I’ll be fine. I don’t want to get you in trouble with your father, so you’d better head off.”
Romeo did not bother explaining to Mrs. Gray that his father would probably not care or notice if he was in attendance at all. Instead, he sneakily swiped a fourth croissant, this one strawberry flavored, and fled the scene, making his way down the hall to the Manor’s library, where today’s press conference was being held.
As always, he was the first of his family to arrive. It wasn’t that he was a particularly punctual person; he just did not require the same pre-event preparations his siblings did, and as such he had become used to turning up at the same time as the staff. He was so early today it seemed he’d arrived even before his father.
The usual setup of the library had been shifted to accommodate the press. While the dark oak bookcases remained, the plush leather sofas usually dotted around the room had been removed and replaced with rows and rows of wooden chairs. Romeo walked past a few of the cameras that were still being set up, all of which were facing the direction of the long wooden desk at the front where his family was to be seated in a few minutes.
There were name cards placed carefully in front of each seat: Bilal, Fola,Octavius, and Perdita. And then his father’s name card right in the middle in front of an obnoxiously large leather padded chair.
Romeo didn’t even have to look closely at the table to know that there would be no place card for him. There never was.
Instead, he found his place in the corner as he always did and watched as the journalists filed into the room and settled into their own seats and positions.
The space was abuzz with whispered excitement from them, which seemed to be less about getting to profile one of the biggest events of the year, and more so about the exclusive and rare access they would have to the famous family. There were utterings of the nicknames that had been ascribed to Romeo’s siblings since they were young:the Artist,the Olympian,the Brain,the Maestro—as if they were characters and not real people. Romeo had never had such a name, but a few years ago some lowlife journalist who’d been writing a tell-all story about his family had coined a nickname for him that seemed to stick to this day in the occasional article mention. A two-word epithet that would always haunt him:the Failure.
Romeo had disliked all journalists ever since.
He wasn’t sure the last time there’d even been a press conference of any kind inside their home. Probably not since the first Prodigy Ball ten years ago. Their father liked to keep the mystery alive, he supposed; it was harder to control the narrative when everyone was constantly in your business. Romeo and his siblings had always been advised to avoid most interactions with the press, to keep their heads down, to always act with grace in public and in turn do everything to keep the family name intact. But this year was different. This year a door to their world was being opened to those who cared to peer through it. For the first time inyearsthe elusive Button family was finally doing a collective interview.
The excitement in the room only seemed to grow when his siblings began to filter in one by one. From his corner, Romeo watched as Perdita floated inwearing a black-and-white tailored dress and a wide smile that was doing aterriblejob at masking the truth.
Perdita had texted Romeo from the airport earlier that morning, having only landed at JFK a mere few hours ago, yet she was now somehow standing here, jet lag and all. Loud applause filled the air, tempered with a slight hesitance, as if the journalists could sense his sister’s exhaustion. Perdita took her place behind the table.
Bilal followed next, the applause noticeably quieting as he hobbled over to his seat in a rather ungraceful manner, sporting a very obvious limp. Romeo found it a disconcerting sight; Bilal, the nimble fencer, had always had an effortless fluidity to his movements. Dozens of eyes fell to Bilal’s legs. More specifically to the left one, with the large white cast wrapped around it.
Bilal took his seat next to Perdita and seemed to pay no mind to the ravenous stares of the journalists, instead holding his usual stoic expression in place.
Some journalists looked on at the entrance expectantly, anticipating the arrival of the remaining three Buttons—Fola, Octavius, and their father. Romeo wasn’t surprised when the doorway remained empty though. Last he’d heard, Fola was out in the streets of New York trying to locate Octavius, something only Fola was truly capable of doing. And as for their father, he always liked to be the last person to enter a room—probably as some kind of power play. The lack of coordination in arrivals exposed the clear fracture in the family that not even a glitzy event like this could cover.
One thing Romeo was certain of was that their father wasnotgoing to be pleased about having to wait. It was kind of a miracle that this press conference was happening at all, seeing as it was next to impossible to get all of his siblings in one room together these days. But if there was one thing his father strived to do, it was the impossible. And when he couldn’t do that, he used his money to get his way. For Romeo and his siblings, that meant the threat of losing out on their inheritance.
There was an awkward lull as everyone awaited the arrival of the rest of his family—eager to interview the Buttons whoactuallymattered.
“Romeo?” He looked up in slight alarm, searching for the source of the very unfamiliar sound of someone calling his name. He was met with what he thought was the loveliest face he’d ever seen. A veryfamiliarlovely face, for that matter. It was one he hadn’t seen in almost three years.
“Evie?”
In a lot of ways, she still looked exactly the same. But somehow different too.Older.They’d been fourteen when they’d last seen each other, and they were very much not fourteen anymore.
She smiled then and bounded over to him excitedly. “Oh my god, itisyou! When did you get so tall?”
“I wasn’t aware that Iwastall,” he said, returning her smile. A nervousness began to settle over him as he looked down at her, taking all of her in. Evie’s hair was tied in a low braided bun with loose strands framing the sides of her heart-shaped face. She was dressed casually in a sweater dress and boots.
“When I last saw you, I was at least an inch or two taller than you, and now I’m literally breaking my neck trying to look up at you,” Evie said, and then as if to demonstrate, she craned her neck back dramatically.
Romeo couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, your neck might actually snap when you see Octavius and Bilal. I’m usually referred to as the short brother,” he replied, which was only half-true. Romeo was more often referred to by other names that had nothing to do with height, and more to do with his ineptitude. But itwastrue that he was the shortest of the three brothers. Octavius had a good three inches of height on him and Billy towered over them all.
“I saw Bilal on my way in. He’s gigantic! What is my mother putting in your breakfasts?” Evie asked playfully.
“Considering the fact that Octavius is at boarding school and Bilal basically eats and sleeps at the training center in the city, they don’t have the good fortune of eating your mom’s food as much as I do.”
“I didn’t realize Octavius was at boarding school,” she said with a raised eyebrow.
“Yeah, a few years now. It was a pretty unexpected decision to be honest, as we’ve only ever been homeschooled. Plus, I don’t think my brother deals all that well with rigid schedules or authority,” Romeo replied, then added, “Anyway, I wouldn’t be so quick to put the blame on your mother just yet.”
