Chapter 5
Five
Dare
Another day, another horribly lavish party at the Morgan estate.
I stand in the mansion's huge living room, leaning against the wall, and watch as one hundred people that I have never seen before, dressed in their absolute best suits and gowns, float around me.
The guests are all smiling, pleased that they were able to wrangle an invitation to Remy Morgan's house. It’s all very gauche, in my opinion.
I throw back the last ounce of scotch that's in my tumbler and push myself off the wall. Beside me, my Uncle Felix contemplates the crowd as well.
"Freaking yuppies," he mumbles. "Every single person that's in this room relies on our family for their fortunes. It's sick that Remy calls, and they all come running to celebrate whatever he feels like celebrating. I doubt that most of these idiots even know what Twelfth Night is."
Inclining my head, I flash the whole room a frown. "It's a joke. A sycophantic joke. It's disgusting, but what else are toadies for if not to kiss the King's ring?"
His lips twist sourly. "What a bunch of assholes. Do you know what I plan on doing with my cut of the inheritance?"
He unbuttons the top button of his tuxedo shirt, undoing his bow tie. We've been here for two hours now, and a glance out the window tells me that it's almost dark outside. It's nearly time for my uncle to get properly soused.
I spot a waiter and motion him over, ordering another scotch. My uncle does not seem to notice whether or not I am actually paying any attention. He carries on his monologue, his tone and the volume of his voice rising steadily into a rant.
"I'm going to take my money, catch a flight to Eastern Europe, and never look back. I can set myself up there for life with enough money to live like a king. I'll have women, I'll have land, and I will never think about the family business again. I promise you that."
My lips twitch. Felix certainly looks as though he means every word of it.
But whether it will come to fruition is dubious.
Felix doesn't seem to be able to stay away, not when it comes to the Morgan family.
At least, that's what I have seen him do time and time again.
He grows angry and resentful, he makes a huge scene before leaving the family forever, and then a few months later he comes back with his tail between his legs.
But I don't say any of this to my uncle. It's not worth starting a fight over something so meaningless right now. Instead, I just clap him on the shoulder.
"When we take over the family business, everything will be different."
He shrugs and looks away. "Maybe. It does seem that no matter what I do, I always get pulled back into the dealings of this family."
I accept a fresh tumbler of scotch and raise my glass to my uncle. "Here's to not being caught in the cycle again. If this goes right and I take the business from my brother, we will both go out of our way to establish new patterns and set new trends."
"Yeah, we will!" He pulls his bow tie off and crumples it in one hand. "I am going to head into town. I am over whatever’s happening here."
I don't say anything as my uncle leaves me. He is soon lost in the sea of black suits and glittering multicolored dresses. I take a last sip of the scotch and then leave the tumbler behind on a side table and start navigating my way around the party. I step out of the living room and dart into the cool darkness of the servant’s corridor.
Closing the door, I head down the dimly lit passage.
This is the only place in the entire house where cobwebs build up.
I flick my hand out as I pass one. These servants’ passages run all around the house, running between many of the rooms and culminating at the kitchen.
As kids, Burn and I would always run through them, giggling and looking through the various peepholes into the rooms on the main floor.
Now, I rarely use them, as I am rarely back here on the estate.
It is even rarer that I should happen to be alone on one of my visits.
I walk past the billiard room and the solarium, then pass Remy's office. I make a sharp right turn at the large library and come to a set of steel doors. Pushing my way through them, I let myself into the kitchen, where a fragrant tomato sauce bubbles away on the stove just to my right.
In front of me, there is a vast kitchen island and a large open pantry on the wall just behind it.
To my left, there is an old woman who has her head buried in the oversized double refrigerator.
As I make my way around the large kitchen island toward the stove, she pulls her head out of the refrigerator.
When she sees me, her entire face lights up, and she pushes back a few strands of her gray hair that have escaped from her bun.
She's dressed in all white. Her white apron around her thick waist is covered in red stains, presumably from whatever vegetables she had to chop up and put in the tomato sauce.
"It smells good, Magda."
"Dare!" She says. "Oh, it's so good to see you! I was wondering when you would come and visit old Magda."
She hustles over and gives me a hug, mindful of the stains on her apron. I don't mind her touching me in the least. Honestly, at some points in my childhood, Magda was the only person who would give me hugs and worry over me in the way that you would expect from a parent.
Not my parents, of course. But some other, more stable parents, perhaps.
I squeeze her gently and then turn her loose. She starts to push me toward the seat at the massive kitchen island. "Sit, sit! I will make you a plate of my special cake. And a glass of milk, yes?"
I smile and take a seat at the island, feeling as though I were a boy again.
"If you're not too busy. That would be nice."
"I'm never too busy for you, Dare. You know, your brother was just in the hall. If you want me to, I could…”
Before I can even say no, the door slams open, and I hear footsteps.
I don't even have to look to know that it is my twin brother. No one else in the family has enough courage to intrude here, in Magda’s fortress.
The kitchen has long since been her domain, it was already this way before I was even born.
My lips curl and I move my gaze to the open door. Burn appears, one hand in his slacks pocket, a smirk on his face.
He greets me. “Hello, brother. You're looking particularly wretched this evening."
My smile drops away. I fix him with a glare, wishing like anything that I had the kitchen and Magda to myself.
"Burn," I say as a greeting. "Don't you have homes to wreck? Villages to pillage? Peasants to burn?"
Magda looks back and forth between us, her hands going to her hips and a frown kneading her brow. "Boys, please don't fight. You know I love you both. Burn, come sit down. Have some cake."
She waves him over and heads to the refrigerator once more. I press my lips into a thin line as I watch him come closer, smirking all the while. He settles himself on the stool next to mine and looks me up and down.
"So? What's new?"
I can't help but want to smack his teeth down his throat when I see his handsome face. "Quit smiling at me, you bastard."
I whisper it low so that Magda doesn't hear it. But she has ears like a dog, and she intercedes before he can even say anything.
"Dare!" she says. "Come on now."
She brings a cake stand and two plates with a cake server over to us.
Burn looks like he has something to gloat about as she uncovers the beautiful chocolate cake and carefully cuts us each a slice.
The cake looks amazing and delicious, with no less than five full layers of death by chocolate.
Though I am very angry right now, my mouth automatically starts watering at the sight of Magda's cake.
It's been too long since I sat at this exact table and let Magda mother me.
With my mother dying at a young age and my father busy drinking himself to death, I received all of my attention as a cyearshild from Magda.
Magda cuts two thick slices of cake and plates them, pushing them across the island to us.
Burn looks at me with a smirk and picks up his fork, toying with the cake slice.
I know that he'll do what he always does, eat the cake from the inner edge to the top corner, where the frosting is smooth across the top and the sides.
He was always one for delayed gratification like that.
I look at him and gather a forkful of the best part of the cake, right at the joint of the two frosting sides.
I smile at him thinly as I put the fork to my lips.
The sweet bitterness of the chocolate cake bursts across my tongue.
But it's not as sweet as I imagined. Nothing is, not since my brother stole from me.
Magda leans her thick forearms against the stainless steel top of the kitchen island and leans forward, looking between us. "Well? Are you going to make me ask?"
Burn plays it cool. "About what?"
I still have another forkful of cake and shove it in my mouth, chewing and swallowing angrily.
"Why has Dare been so distant for the last six months?" she asks.
I can feel her watery eyes trained on me. I look down at the cake and frown. "It does taste as sweet and wonderful as I remembered, but suddenly I've lost my appetite altogether." I put my fork down.
Burn laughs a little. "You’ll have to ask Dare about that. I don't know exactly why he does the things he does. Eh, brother?"
I push my plate away and glare at him. "You know very well why I don't come around anymore." I dart a glance at Magda and then smooth the front of my tuxedo. "I've been busy working on a new project."
"Yeah, a new project that Remy hates. He already told you exactly what he thinks about your project." He laughs to himself. "Deep sea drilling. What a fucking crazy idea."
I hurriedly stand up, my fists bunching. But Magda settles the fight, as she has been doing for our entire lives.