“Because in this house, you do.”
The words came out before I could soften them.
Wrong place.
Wrong time.
Too much truth.
The foyer seemed to shrink around us.
Richard’s mouth tightened.
Everett looked entertained.
Beckett looked interested.
That was the one that made my blood go hot.
Isa looked at Beckett.
Just once.
Fast.
But she saw enough.
I watched her understand.
Not all of it. Not the old history. Not the years of little humiliations, locked doors, shoved shoulders, comments sharpened into knives because the legitimate sons hated the affair son breathing their air.
But enough.
Her posture changed.
Not smaller.
Sharper.
She turned back to my father with a smile so sweet it was basically a blade dipped in honey.
“Actually,” she said, “if Drew doesn’t mind, I’d rather stay near him. My leg stiffens overnight, and he’s been helping me with it.”
The room went very still.
Everett’s mouth twitched.
Beckett’s gaze dropped to her leg, then slid up in a way I wanted to remove from his face with my fist.
Richard stared at Isa for half a beat too long.
Then he laughed softly.
“Well. If Drew is taking rehabilitation this seriously, who am I to object?”
I hated him.
“Dinner is at seven,” Richard said. “Drinks before. There are people I’d like you both to meet.”
