Page 10 of Silk and Sirens

Darya frowned. “Fletcher’s still sneaking in through your window? How has he not been caught yet?”

“Because Dad’s never here,” Mira answered, tossing her phone aside. She reached up and absentmindedly rolled the pearl pendant at her throat between her fingers. “It’s always some new nanny who doesn’t care what we do as long as we don’t set the house on fire.”

I tilted my head. “So … if he’s not your boyfriend, why does he keep coming over at night?”

Mira looked at me, her expression softening the way it always did when she thought I was being adorable. “Because he’s my best friend, kid.”

I wrinkled my nose. “I’m not a kid. I’m only two years younger than you.”

“Yeah, but you’re the baby,” Brooke chuckled.

“Unless Dad gets another woman pregnant, that is,” Darya added with a roll of her eyes.

Mira grinned, reaching out to ruffle my hair. “Don’t worry, you’ll always be the kid, Aeris. Even when we’re all eighty.”

I sank beneath the water and let the heat seep into my bones, the bubbles closing over me as I held my breath. Grief was an individual experience, and everyone reacted differently to death. Most would be devastated, and I knew my staff were after losing one of our own.

I was just angry, helpless to the knowledge that Olivia was alone in her final moments, and confused that, knowing she was in trouble, she hadn’t asked for help to prevent it.

When I finally resurfaced, the water sloshed but didn’t spill over the edge of the tub. Wiping the bubbles from my face I reached for my tablet, propping it on the bamboo caddy.

My eldest sister’s tired face appeared after only a second, and immediately that anger eased.

“You been holding your breath again?” she asked with a frown.

“It’s called meditating.”

“Underwater?” She pursed her lips. “I find drowning myself the opposite of relaxing.”

“It’s not drowning,” I laughed, knowing this had been an ongoing argument for over two decades. “Anyway, how are my gorgeous nephews?”

“Asleep,” Brooke said, her own eyes barely awake. “But you knew that, considering it’s like three in the morning.”

“I knew you’d be up with the baby,” I said, brushing my fingers through the mountain of bubbles. “Speaking of, show me.”

Brooke sighed, the camera panning down to find my newest nephew snoozing happily on his mama. “You want to tell me why you’re up so late?” she asked, her face reappearing. “Dad’s concerned.”

“Dad’s always concerned.” Steam curled around me, yet I couldn’t shake the chill.

“You really should talk to him,” Brooke said, ever the peace maker. “Not for him. For yourself.”

“I have nothing to say to him.” Which was the truth. Tristan Murdock was nothing but a stranger to me. He may have given me half my DNA, but I didn’t owe him anything. Not after everything he’d done.

“Are you okay?” she asked, and I considered if maybe I should have called Darya instead. She never asked me difficult questions.

“Fine, just miss you and the kids.”

Brooke smiled, but there was tension that told me she wasn’t buying it. She’d been trying for years to get me to reconcile with our father, though I never understood why. He’d cut her and Darya off just as completely as he’d cut me off whenever they talked back.

Just because she chose to keep the relationship open didn’t mean I had to.

“You should visit soon. Oscar says he misses his favourite aunt.”

“Have you told Darya that?” I laughed, knowing my eldest nephew would have said exactly the same thing to my other sister. “I’ll be over soon, I promise.”

“Soon is too long.”

“So dramatic,” I sighed, but Brooke had already returned her attention to her cooing baby. The sight of it made my chest ache. I missed my sisters, but our lives were vastly different. Brooke and Darya hadn’t lived with us growing up, both having different mothers and a much more stable home. Mine had been anything but.