She snorted. When he raised an eyebrow at her reaction, she shook her head, dislodging his hand. “That was normal for my mother. I’m only sorry you had to see it, or hear it rather.”
When she blushed, he realized she was embarrassed. “I’ve seen worse.”
She gazed up at him, curious. “Do people hit in your family too?”
“No,” he said honestly, though he wasn’t sure she believed him. He led her to the bed and they both sat down, side-by-side. She’d revealed a lot about herself and her family, he could share a little as well. “My father’s version of discipline isn’t physical, but more emotional manipulation. It’s different for me as the heir, you know. But I’ve kept mostly in line, and have been…selectively rebellious, I’ll say. Some of my siblings, though, are much more rebellious than me, and taking tangible things away, like money, works better to punish them and keep them in line.”
She rubbed her lips together, while her fingers toyed with the glass still in her hands. He liked that they were sitting close—their legs touching each other, their arms brushing against each other—and she hadn’t moved away or put more distance between them.
“Do your parents like you?” She wasn’t looking at him when she asked, her eyes still fixated on the glass.
Given what he’d seen and heard so far tonight, maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised by the question but he was. “Er, yes, they do. They do love us, though my mother is more likely to say the words than my father.”
She nodded but stayed silent.
“What about you? Your father, did he…?”
She nodded again. “Things were so different before he died. Better.” She sighed and settled a little more against him.
“What do you miss most about him?”
“The laughter. He was always laughing about something, or making us laugh. Henrietta doesn’t even remember him, which is a shame. Maybe she’d be different if she did.”
He carefully moved his arm and put it around her shoulders, and she leaned over and put her head on his shoulder. He gently rubbed her arm while they sat there in the quiet, the only sounds the odd car outside or something indicating her mother’s movements around the house.
Eventually, he turned his head towards hers, and caught the scent of her floral shampoo. He couldn’t resist rubbing his cheek on her soft hair and he wanted nothing more than to kiss her. It wasn’t the right moment, was it? Or could he?
“Genevieve…”
She looked up at him, her dark brown eyes piercing him.
They leaned closer and closer and closer and…
WHAM!
The window to her bedroom was pushed open and a young lady fell inside.
“Diana!” Genevieve whispered, anger clear in her voice. “What are you doing?”
Diana stood and brushed herself off. “I was clearly sneaking in so mother…well, who do we have here?”
GENEVIEVE
Diana gave Gabriel a bright smile,then walked over and took a seat beside him so he was sandwiched between the two sisters. “How do I know you?”
“You don’t,” Gen answered and started pushing her sister towards the door. “Get out and forget you saw him.”
Diana held her ground near the door for a few moments, but then awareness dawned on Diana’s face.
Damn.
“You’re-Gennie!” Diana whirled on her. “What ishedoing here? Does mother know?”
Gen shook her head and sighed, which turned into a cough, and Gabriel handed her the glass of water again.
“Stop coughing this instant!” their mother yelled from somewhere in the house.
For fuck’s sake. Can’t a woman even cough in peace?
