31. Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-One
Dacre
I should have known there would be a dinner. Dinner for an Everhart is an affair that must be curated, from the napkins to the type of nuts in the appetizers. Our legacy was built on good food, so not anticipating a welcome dinner for the culinary club was an oversight.
Fingering the tablecloth in one hand, I stare at Emma, who’s seated at the other end of the table.
Her hair is brushed away from her golden eyes, which sparkle in the candlelight.
While I might not have planned for such an occasion, she came prepared with a cocktail dress and heels.
I love that about her, how she’s always ready for anything and loves to make even the most mundane thing something to celebrate.
I still feel her wetness on my tongue as I sip the wine in front of me. She’s freshly showered, so there’s no trace of our interaction other than her relaxed shoulders and my intact sanity. To the rest of the table, we’re merely instructor and student.
Our time alone wasn’t enough, and I have no idea what the night will bring.
I have to do something to keep Emma in my life because ignoring her and pushing her away is no longer an option.
There are about a million reasons it won’t work, but I can’t ignore the possibility that it could now that she knows I don’t hate her and never did.
This is bound to be a bloodbath. Nothing in my life has ever been easy.
The door opens, and my grandfather emerges, as if to worsen my own inner turmoil.
The familiar small feeling I often got as a child returns with a punch to my ribs.
Two feet behind him is my brother Daniel, whom I haven’t seen for some time.
Every conversation ceases, along with the clattering of silverware against the ceramic.
“I didn’t know you were coming.” Luther stands to shake my grandfather’s hand.
He hides his disdain well. There’s a long history between our families that goes well beyond Luther and me.
“My schedule opened up, and I thought it might be nice to surprise the group. No need for more pleasantries. You can all continue on with your meal.”
My grandfather takes the seat next to Emma, while my brother slides into the empty seat next to me. I tug at my shirt collar for some relief from the tightness in my chest. This isn’t good. There’s never any room for anything in my grandfather’s schedule.
“Dacre. You’re really growing up.”
“Do I spot a gray hair?” I ask.
It’s been at least a year since I’ve seen my brother. No letters. Not a phone call. Not that it bothers me. I’m more than happy to have my brother stay far away from me and my business.
“You’ll get there some day, and when you do, I’ll enjoy pointing it out incessantly.”
“Why are you here?” I pour myself another glass of wine and offer my brother some.
“Grandfather called me.”
That’s even worse. I can’t remember the last time my grandfather left me in the dark about anything.
“What do you know?”
“Are you sweating? Oh, how the mighty fall.”
I’ve always been Grandfather’s favorite. My brothers called me a kiss-ass, but being my grandfather’s favorite came naturally to me. Loyalty came easily when I didn’t understand who or what I was being loyal to.
I knew my grandfather liked me because I was talented, and if my grandfather liked me, that meant he was nicer to Florence. Or better yet, he acted as if she didn’t exist, which in my world is the better choice.
For him, I’m just the perfect embodiment of what the Everhart heir should be.
“Who’s sweating? I only want to know on what rare occasion Grandfather would ask for your attendance.”
He chuckles as he takes the wine glass I offer him, then grabs the bottle to pour more.
“You know, I really did miss you, little brother.”
I smile. He looks just as I remembered him, same brown hair, same bright suit—he always preferred lighter colors. I do see a little gray in his stubble, though, just like Dad has in his pictures.
The night moves on, and the bottles of wine on the tables multiply as the staff tend to the fire. Cool night air from the ocean wafts into the open windows through the billowing curtains.
I keep a careful eye on Emma. At the first sign of my grandfather making her uncomfortable, I will jump in, but mostly, they talk about cooking, chefs he knows, and restaurants in the city. Emma’s eyes sparkle with curiosity.
I wish I could enjoy this without the mountain of weight sitting on my chest. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Why is he here? Why now?
“So, how is Florence?” When I don’t answer, Daniel tries again. “She’s . . . okay, isn’t she? Truth be told, I wonder about her more often than not.”
“Did Grandfather ask you to probe me?”
His head jerks back as if he’s actually offended. “Of course not. I know you’re the only one who has contact with her. I have . . . tried to contact her a few times, and she refuses to speak with me.”
“I wonder why.”
Daniel wasn’t cruel to Florence like my brother John, but what he didn’t dish out in cruelty, he gave in indifference. He treated her like a nuisance, mocking her when she cried, if he wasn’t forgetting her altogether.
A memory surfaces as I keep my attention on Emma.
“No one is ever on my side. It’s like no one . . . wants me around.”
My sister cried when everyone forgot her tenth birthday. I’d been on a trip with my grandfather for the whole day and came back to the news of her locking herself in her room. Daniel rolled his eyes when I asked.
I pulled out a cupcake that I’d bought her from a bakery in the city and plopped a single candle atop.
“I’m always on your side. I’m glad you’re here. Happy birthday, Florence.”
“I doubt you’ll believe me, but this thing happens when you get older, where you start thinking of all the things you’ve done and the regrets you have. I don’t expect Florence to forgive me, but I do hope she’s happier now.”
“Florence is fine.”
He nods, seemingly content with that answer.
“I’ll let her know you want to speak with her,” I add.
“Thank you. And if she needs anything, let me know.”
I scoff.
“I’m serious. I want to be there for her . . . To be a better brother. I think it’s too late for us, but Florence is young.”
She’s also the least forgiving person I know. I don’t blame her for it, though. That’s what happens when you can’t trust your own family.
“Ms. Osborne, have you given any more thought to the Donor Gala?”
My grandfather’s words catch my attention.
“Oh, give thought, like . . . ?”
“We have an opening at the upcoming gala for donors, and I wanted to inquire to see if you’d be interested.
You’re in a unique position and for more than just .
. . culinary prowess. We’re talking legacy, building wealth for the future of your family, your children.
Your children’s children. Your mother wasn’t interested.
I believe she was already in love with your father at the time, but you’re untethered.
Nothing is stopping you from attending.”
Oh, this bastard. I breathe through my nose to compose myself as searing anger works its way down my spine. Suddenly, I have no interest in dessert or whatever my brother is trying to ask me next.
“It’s . . . an arranged marriage?”
“Contractual. It’s all laid out in legal agreements. Many don’t live with their contracts. It’s purely an arrangement for blood, at great benefit to you.”
“I’m not sure that’s something I’d be interested in. I’d need to think about it.”
“Of course, no pressure. Just consider it. It may open doors for you.”
My brother pops the cork on another bottle, jolting me from my trance as he pours me another glass. How many has that been? Two? Three?
“Want to talk about it?” He motions to Emma.
“No. But you could be honest with me on why you’re here?”
“I’ve got a client meeting. Grandfather was interested in meeting them in person.”
The wine leaves my mouth bone dry as it goes down. Daniel’s a finance manager for our family and many other wealthy families in Vviveren. Grandfather was ecstatic when he discovered Daniel’s knack for numbers.
“One of your clients is interesting enough to bring here?”
“It’s for the gala. That’s all he told me.” He grabs the bottle and takes a long drink. “I’m surprised he didn’t tell you. What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
The more my brother talks to me, the less I can hear what my grandfather is asking Emma.
“Are you sure you’re thinking clearly? This isn’t like you. Untucked shirt. A hint of debauchery in the air. You’ve been having fun.” He drags a bowl of walnuts from the middle of the table and crunches a few between his teeth.
“You’ve been away a long time. How would you know?”
“Because the Dacre I knew didn’t play with toys or enjoy jokes. He just cooked happily with his little collar and bell. You look more relaxed than ever, and you reek of fun . . . And we all know where fun leads.” He cracks a walnut in one squeeze. It crumbles in his hand. “To ruin.”
There’s still time to fix this. Emma will reject the spot at the gala, and . . . I’ll think of a plan. A plan where I can keep Florence safe and keep Emma in my life. There’s gotta be a way. If I could just get a few minutes alone, I could—
“Ah, they’re here!” Daniel leaps from his seat after checking his phone, disappearing into the other room.
Most of the culinary club members have left for the night (aside from the usual suspects, Verity and Luther, who are getting drunk and enjoying my grandfather’s attention when it isn’t on Emma).
I expected Emma to leave, too, but she’s ready with question after question about my grandfather’s involvement in the culinary world.