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Chapter Four
Abby
Abby wrung her hands together as she paced her father’s office. In just seconds, she was going to have her head gnawed off by her angry mother. She’d botched the mission before it had even begun. “I would make the worst spy ever.”
Running her fingers through her hair and sending her ponytail into further disarray, she stopped and sat in her father’s wingback chair. It somehow made her feel closer to him. Memories of her sneaking into his office as a child when she was supposed to be asleep, crept into her thoughts. Caleb would always welcome her and promise to never tell her mother about their late-night chats. He'd be behind the massive desk while she curled up on the sofa beside him. No matter what he was working on, he’d always stop to talk with her about things that—now as an adult—would be considered trivial.
They spoke about art, school, what she wanted to do when she grew up, even boys she had crushes on. She’d always been closer to her father than she could ever dream of being with her mother or even her sister. She ran her palms over the worn leather of the chair, hating Damian Coldwell even more, and condemning herself for failing her father.
Her misery deepened when muffled footsteps approached. “And here we go,” she whispered.
Celeste entered. She was in a casual, teal dress that floated around her knees, and she wore tan high heels. She was the only person whom Abby knew who wore heels at home. Well, apart from Elaina. Celeste’s graying, blonde hair was in a severe chignon. Abby sighed. Not a hair out of place. Abby patted her messy ponytail self-consciously. Celeste looked impeccable as always, even though it wasn’t yet noon. She always looked like she was ready to meet the Queen at a moment’s notice, which is why Abby always felt scruffy in her mother’s presence. With a rueful glance at her plain t-shirt and ripped jeans, she supposed that she did indeed look scruffier than usual.
“Abigail,” Celeste said, “you could have run a comb through your hair this morning. And do you have to wear those cursed jeans?”
“Yup, Mother, I’m afraid I have to. Comfort all the way.”
Celeste sighed. “You’re hopeless. I wish you could be more like your sister.”
On cue, Elaina sauntered in, teetering on heels as well, and she was wearing a ridiculous, pink jumpsuit. “Yes, Abby, if only you were more like me. If you weren’t such a nerd, you wouldn’t be a twenty-six-year-old virgin.”
“I’m not a virgin.” Abby cursed herself for being goaded so easily. She felt like she was a teenager again, being teased mercilessly by her bitchy sister while her mother stood by and said nothing.
“You said you didn’t screw the old man, Henry. I assumed you still had your v-card.”
“Enough, Elaina. I’m sure Abigail has had at least one boyfriend,” Celeste said.
“Gee, thank you, mother,” Abby said. She rolled her eyes. Celeste and Elaina were quite the pair—very amusing and irritating characters. There were times when Abby swore she was adopted, but then she always thought, no, she was more like her father and brother. Majority ruled. That meant Celeste and Elaina were the ones who were adopted into the family. With a smirk, she stood up to face the music.
She rounded the desk and threw her hands up in surrender. “I know … I wasn’t called here for you two to inquire about my well-being.” God forbid either of them showed they cared one ounce for her. “You want to know how last night’s mission of infiltration went. Well, mission failed—epically.”
Celeste eyed her youngest daughter with annoyance, and Elaina stepped forward. “What do you mean failed? All you had to do was get his attention and follow my instructions. How hard could it be to get a man like Damian into bed? He’ll sleep with anything in a skirt.”
Abby nibbled her lower lip. How did she confess to speaking with Damian but not in the character that she was supposed to play? She was supposed to snag Damian’s attention, play the bimbo who hadn’t a thought between her ears and throw herself at him. She’d screw his brains out and proceed to search his place while he slept. The one problem was that she wasn’t a stupid bimbo and he’d spoken to the real Abby. No way was he interested after that.
Problem number two, was that despite not being the virgin Elaina accused her of being, she had no idea how to screw a man’s brains out. Especially not a man like Damian. He was probably used to women who had sex like porn stars. She’d never even given a blow job before! She even blushed at the thought of a man going down on her. The kinkiest she’d ever gotten was reading Fifty Shades of Grey.
“I spoke to him, but I didn’t play the part I was supposed to. Okay?”
“Oh, no,” Elaina said. “You spoke to him as ... you? He must have been so turned off.”
She sent her sister a seething glare before biting her tongue. There were so many insults she could have thrown but she maintained her control and went on the offensive. “Whether I turned him off or not hardly matters. This plan was bound to fail. I mean, how do either of you even know Damian would have responded to my advances? Even if he did, what makes you think I would have ended up at his place?”
“But you would have gotten a foot in, Abigail,” Celeste said.
Gaping at her mother, Abby wondered if Celeste had the emotional capacity to feel even slightly guilty about practically prostituting her daughter to get leverage for a blackmail scheme. “Wow, don’t expect to win Mother of the Year any time soon, Celeste.”
“This is why we never get along, Abigail,” Celeste said. “You never do what you’re told. You’re hard-headed and stubborn just like your father. Look what happened to him. If he’d listened to me, he’d still be alive.”
Shock. Pure shock vibrated through Abby…followed by confusion. “Wait, what?”
Even Elaina regarded Celeste with furrowed brows. “Mom, what are you talking about? You knew what was going on with Daddy?”
Pursing her lips, Celeste inhaled sharply. “Never mind.”
Elaina turned to her, hands on her hips. Hope flickered in Abby’s chest. Her sister was finally about to stand up to their mother, and for once, she wouldn’t have to stand alone. “You can’t just say something like that and not explain.”
Celeste’s eyes flashed like hot embers and her nostrils flared. “I don’t have to explain myself to you or anyone, Elaina. Know your place!”
