A sharp inhale from Ginny pulled Shepherd’s attention away from her father and his beastly wall of books. She reached for his hand, and he laced their fingers together.
“What is it?”
“The stepkids,” she whispered, jerking her chin towards the sitting room.
“The prime suspects in your mother’s kidnapping?” Shepherd frowned. “What the hell are they doing here?”
Lounging on a red velvet couch with glasses of wine, apparently. They were twins—that much was obvious from their impossibly blond curls, their matching green eyes, and bright white teeth. The male twin wore closed-toed shoes without socks, while the female twin was in sandals. Both had sweaters tied around their necks as though they’d just stepped off a yacht.
“Brandy did this.” Ginny’s mouth curled into a snarl. “She called in allies!” She cracked her neck, combed her fingers through her hair, and marched into the room as if she owned it.
Shepherd supposed that was probably true. If not now, one day. Unless Brandy had a say, of course.
“Dior. Dion.” Ginny said, nodding first to the stepsister and then the stepbrother. Dion had a watch that must’ve cost more than the total value of Shepherd’s car and then some. It was as golden as his skin, with diamonds set around the dial. He stood up and spread his arms. “Sister,” he greeted. “Give us a hug.”
“No.” Ginny crossed her arms tight over her chest. “Not until you tell me what the hell you two are doing here.”
“We rushed over as soon as we heard the news, Ginny,darling,” Dior said. She put down her glass of red wine and stood on sandals that saidPRADAon the toes. “The police showed up at our house, and we were horrified to hear what happened to Mummy Deandra. Family should stick together in times of crisis, don’t you think?”
Her eyes flashed over to Shepherd. “Is this the fiancé Brandy and Scarlett have been telling us about? My, heishandsome.” She grinned coyly and said, while still looking at him, “Good for you, Ginny.”
Ginny forced herself between Shepherd and Dior, breaking the stare that left Shepherd feeling like he was in the woods being watched by a slightly blurry bigfoot. “You two,” Ginny said, her voice almost a growl, “need to get thefu—”
“Virginia.” It was one word, but everyone stopped and turned at the sound of it. The elder Kent stood in the doorway, his hands in his pockets. “Dinner is served. Come along, then.” His expression brooked no argument, his word was law, and everyone—Shepherd included—knew it. “Allof you.”
TWENTY-THREE
The family gathered around a giant solid oak table in the center of the formal dining room. Candelabras lit with flickering candles ran down the center of the table. A giant crystal chandelier hung above it, and at any moment, Shepherd knew the lights would go out, and one of them would drop dead, and a round-headed man with a funny mustache would be crashing the party.
Elwin Kent took one end of the table, and his son the other. Ginny guided Shepherd to a seat closest to her father, which was great because her grandfather was terrifying. But it was also bad because he sat across from her stepmother, and she was her own kind of terrifying. Her face was an expressionless mask. Partly, Shepherd assumed, from the Botox, but some of it was cunning. There was a dark, intelligent spark in her too-blue eyes that Shepherd recognized because he’d seen it so often in his daughter’s gaze.
Women in strange scrubs walked in carrying trays of food, his stomach grumbling instantly at the delicious smells. Steam radiated from baskets filled with fresh baked rolls. There were corn cobs shining in butter, with honey-roasted carrots alongside. Different types of seafood came next—fresh fish, already-cracked stone crab claws, scallops slathered in even more butter.
He licked his lips, fingers wiggling on the leather arm rests of the high-backed dining chair. This family was ridiculous, but nobody could suggest their home was uncomfortable. Creepy, yes. Haunted, probably. But comfortable, nonetheless.
The women in scrubs began filling plates for everyone based on their preferences, stone crab claws clanking each time they reached for the silver plate with long tongs. When they got to Ginny, she shook her head and whispered, “I’m not hungry.”
Brandy rolled her eyes. “Please don’t let her ruin anotherdinner,” she said to her husband, but also to the table at large. Shepherd felt the blood begin to boil in his sternum.
“I didn’t sayyoucouldn’t eat.I’mjust not going to eat. I don’t have an appetite.”
Brandy glared at Bradley. Bradley shrugged a shoulder. “She’s not hungry.”
“Well, I’m starving,” Vincent called out. “Give me her portion. And Mom’s too, why not. It’s been a long day.”
Ginny covered her mouth with her hand, her hair falling over her face like a curtain. Shepherd only heard the small hiccup because he was sitting so close. The heat inside of him was boiling over now, bubbling up to his throat. “Come on, dude. Havesomerespect.”
“What?” Vincent peeled off part of an orange-and-black claw. “It’s seafood. There’s, like, no calories in seafood. I can eat as much as I want.”
The back teeth of Shepherd’s jaw ground together, his tongue bumping up against harsh enamel. How someone as wonderful as Ginny came from this family, he would never understand. The candle in the closest candelabra dripped wax onto the wooden table. He watched the drops splatter and mound, one after another, and kept his mouth shut. Because as much as he didn’t like them, they held his freedom in their hands, even if they didn’t know it yet.
“Therearecalories in seafood,” Scarlett said to Vincent, conspiratorially. “And especially in butter, and everything here is slathered in butter.”
“Yes, I’m quite surprised by that,” Dior said. “I’ve sworn off butter. In a pinch, I’ll opt for avocado oil.”
Dion bit down on a corn cob, smiled yellow and glistening. “Tastes like Irish butter. Tastes like gold.”
What an idiot. Shepherd had never hated someone he just met more than Ginny’s ex-stepbrother. What was he doing, pitching an ad for butter?
