Chapter 15
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
IVY
For thirty minutes straight, Khloe yaps on about—I don’t even know at this point.
She paces with the spatula she grabbed mid-rant about Camille. Clearly, She’s protective of a brother who definitely doesn’t need protecting from anyone but himself.
I shouldn’t like her. She’s every conversation I’ve learned to dread, wrapped in designer clothes and a Victoria Secret smile. She’s inquisitive and quick-witted with good cheekbones.
I don’t say any of this out loud. I just watch as she continues on about the time Asher and Atlas crashed her first date. It’s strange, to hear these stories. I almost forgot that Asher was a simple man, and not a complication that I created.
“Anyway!” She releases a breath. “You look amazing.”
I catch my reflection in the mirror and almost laugh.
Cinched tight enough to make breathing a privilege, the black lace plunges low at the neckline with a sit that rides high up my thigh. It gives me straight Maleficent with a body count vibes. Khloe’s is the same, only red, looking all expensive and dramatic. On me, it gives death.
Which… fair.
My hair stays down, ironed flat along my back, since I’ve got no clue how to do anything else but drag a brush through it.
Twisting the lid back on a tube of lipstick, Khloe leans in and drags her thumb over the corner of my mouth to fix what I missed.
“There,” she says, pleased with herself. “Perfect. I can’t wait to see Asher’s face.”
I inspect her work. “Why?”
She grins, flashing pearly whites. “Because he’s going to be hurting, and in turn, that pleases me.”
Tossing the gloss onto the vanity, I scoff. “Your brother doesn’t hurt.”
When she doesn’t answer, I find her already watching me in the mirror. “Well, if that fails, at least he loves you in black.”
My shoulders stiffen. “You don’t know that.”
Khloe catches my reaction. She’s way too observant to not, and I’m currently way too fragile to hide it. I’m starting to get the gist of this family dynamic and their specialties. Reading people is probably a shared family hobby, right beside emotional repression and delayed torture.
She lifts one shoulder. “Please. To everyone else, Asher is a master at hiding his feelings behind steel walls and a pretty smile, but I know him—”
That’s not the Asher I came to know at all. Not until recently, at least.
I open my mouth, mostly because I want to know where she heard the him liking me in black thing, when the door swings open onto Atlas.
His eyes drag over me with zero shame, from the lace at my chest to the slit at my leg. There’s enough mischief darkening his smirk to know exactly how this night is going to play out.
He whistles. “You look fucking good, V.”
Khloe plants a hand on her hip. “What about me?”
Rolling his eyes, Atlas pushes off the doorframe. “You look aight.” His mouth twitches, and when Khloe looks away, his face softens toward his sister.
Khloe points the lipstick tube at Atlas like a weapon. “You’re dead to me.”
Atlas clutches his chest, feigning shock. “Again? That’s, what, the fifth time this month?”
“Sixth. “ Khloe snatches her clutch off the vanity without looking at him. “After you sent me on a wild chase across the damn Atlantic.”
Atlas presses his lips together to hold back his laugh, but nods slowly. “Okay, sure, that wasn’t fair, but when I lost, you dropped me in the middle of the Drake Passage with a bunch of Fisherman and I legit almost died, so…”
Khloe groans and moves for the door. “You and Asher always complain when it’s my turn, but none of you hear me bitch when I have to walk six days through the desert because you wanted to see how long the human body could last without fucking water!”
I lift my finger. “What is going on right now?”
Atlas waits for me to pass first. “A game we play. It’s called Around the World.
Basically every month, we jump on call, and talk about all the shitty things that happened to us that month.
The one who has the least, loses, and the other two get to choose where to drop the loser in the world with nothing but a bag that we pack. ”
I sigh, shaking my head. “You’re all insane.”
Khloe chuckles. “Welcome to the family.”
I brush by Atlas as he closes the bedroom door, and he dips his head just enough that his voice stays between us. “You’re about to ruin my brother’s evening.”
Without turning, I keep my voice low. “I don’t know about that.”
Khloe moves ahead of us in a red flash, muttering under her breath about ungrateful brothers and the legal rights of younger sisters, as Atlas falls into step beside me, hands in his pockets.
I focus on walking. On the drag of the dress against my thighs. On the ache in my ribs every time I breathe too deep. On anything but the stupid sentence still circling in my head. Think of Atlas in the Drake Passage with a bunch of fishermen ready to throw his ass overboard.
A laugh vibrates low in my belly.
He loves you in black.
It dies.
Where did she hear that? From Elea? From Atlas? From Asher himself? which feels the most ridiculous.
We take the stairs toward the rooftop, the sounds of dinner growing clearer with every step. By the time we reach the top landing, my pulse is beating hard enough to piss me off.
I tell myself it’s the heels. It’s the dress, the climb, and that I haven’t been getting in enough cardio lately…which I better fix. I tell myself it’s the fact I’m still mourning Nonna and my steps are heavier because it’s the extra weight of her death on my soul.
Khloe pushes through the terrace door and wind hits my bare skin, dragging the smell of crisp seasoned meat with it.
Candlelight moves across the long table, catching crystal glasses and black plates that lead to where Elea is already seated, chin tilted, spine perfect, and hand resting on her goblet of red wine.
She’s staring forward, and I follow her line of sight to where Aléia is talking quietly with Camille, leaning beside the railing.
Movement catches my eye and the tension in my muscles eases when I spot Daniel, standing beside Sinead. Camille and her mother waltz to the dining table, and I give Daniel a short nod. Appreciate your service once again.
Then I land on Asher and my stomach drops.
Turning from whatever Camille is yapping on about, he holds a glass loosely at his side, his expression half bored.
“Ah! You’re all here.” Elea claps, pushing up from the table with a smile that was definitely not on her face a moment ago. “Come, Ivy, honey, sit at the other end of the table.”
Head of the table means every single person sitting here has a direct view of me whenever they want. Not really comforting, considering the guests, but I lower onto the chair anyway, buying myself a second to compose myself.
Khloe takes my right, and Atlas falls to my left, stealing the empty spot between Asher and I. Camille makes a squeal sound, before her heels clap against the floor as she rounds the other side of Asher, leaving her mother directly opposite her.
I wanted to ignore him for the rest of the night, but that’s hard to pull off when he’s directly in my line of sight.
Camille looks pretty. I’ll give her that much.
Pale yellow silk, thin straps, the whole delicate little package.
The evening wind cuts across the terrace, pushing the fabric against her nipples despite the heaters lined up behind us.
It’s cold. Too cold to be wearing what I am.
Daniel and Sinead settle near Khloe, Daniel straight-backed, Sinead slouched with one tattooed wrist hooked around a wineglass.
Silver clinks against porcelain, candles guttering in the wind while waves hit rocks somewhere below us in a slow rhythm.
I feel off. Which irritates me more than the seating chart.
I’ve been trained for rooms exactly like this since before I knew algebra.
Smile if needed. Lie if needed. Do worse if needed.
Heat spreads up the side of my neck, settling heavy on my face. This particular brand of pain is Asher’s, and I know if I turn my attention to him right now, I’ll find him glaring right at me.
I reach for the water. Wine can wait. Wine makes people think you’re pressed, which I am not. Well… I am, but not enough to show it, at least not yet.
Khloe buries her hand in the breadbasket. “So!” her tone high with sarcasm. “if anyone starts a family war before appetizers, I call dibs on live-streaming it.”
Atlas lifts his glass. “You do have more followers than me but less than Asher, so I guess that makes sense…”
Camille’s laughter cuts through the sibling banter. “Charming.”
“Let’s attempt one meal without threats,” Elea tells the table, fixing her attention on Atlas and Khloe.
Aléia clears her throat. “Asher—” Cutting herself off, she glares at me.
What the fuck is her problem?
I follow the direction of her stare, catching Asher already looking my way.
Ah, I see. She was following his line of sight.
Matching his stare, I refuse to back down as I swallow my drink.
Then his lashes fan over his cheeks when his focus drops from my mouth. He sure is taking his time eye-fucking me with his ex, both mothers, and his siblings right there.
Bold.
Ignoring the heady throb of my own pulse, I stab my fork into slice of meat. “The food is great, Elea. Did you make this?”
“I did!” Elea’s eyes widen along with her smile. “How are you feeling all the way down there?”
Elea’s got this way about her, like I’ve known her for years, and I couldn’t tell you why. Khloe must get it from her.
“Like a bride being served up for slaughter.”
Khloe chokes on her wine.
A waiter moves to my side, blocking my view and pours a glass of Pinot.
Now I don’t give a fuck if I look pressed.
Out of the corner of my eye, every few seconds Camille touches or grabs or caresses Asher, but I lock onto all that is fucking holy and focus on cutting my meat. Chewing slow, drinking fast…
Elea’s gaze flicks up at me as she slices into a buttered spud. “How’s your room? Is everything comfortable?”