Page 21 of Cruel Dynasty

“Whiskey,” Spencer said.

Holden turned to me, but I shook my head. It was way too early in the day for me to risk drinking, especially with both of them there. He disappeared into the main house, leaving Spencer and me alone. I sagged in relief as some of the tension in the air dissipated.

“I thought we could drive up to the village when you’re finished, but first you should try this.” Spencer deposited a decadent chocolate cake onto my plate. “I dreamt about this pudding while I was at university. It’s a local specialty.”

“Didn’t make it to Yorkshire much back then?”

“Too busy. I took two advanced degrees. There wasn’t time for the country,” he explained. Although he tried to hide it, I detected a note of bitterness.

I cut into the cake with my fork and took a bite. Instantly, I moaned. The sponge of the cake hid a creamy layer of chocolate custard that was so decadent I felt I might need forgiveness for the sounds I was making.

“Told you,” Spencer said with a genuine smile as I finished off the cake. He was still grinning when I took the last bite.

There was something so utterly disarming about the way he watched me that I found myself leaning across the table to kiss him before I’d swallowed the last bit.

Our mouths lingered in the kiss for a moment, before he straightened in his chair. “Holden used to send me photos of it when he came here for holidays.”

I gasped in mock outrage. “And he didn’t bring you any?”

“Never. The bastard,” Spencer said with a laugh.

I loved these small glimpses into their lives. The ones that showed me that they loved each other as much as they pissed each other off. It helped me worry less about the digs and insults they hurled at each other the rest of the time. Still, I couldn’t quite shake the feeling that their rivalry was coming to a head. I didn’t know what direction that would send their relationship. Seeing him smile gave me hope that they would come out stronger on the other side.

“What?” Spencer asked, angling his head to study me. “What’s that smile for?”

“I was just thinking that it’s nice that you have a brother—whether or not you think so,” I added with a roll of my eyes. “The story about the cake. It just reminded me of the night we watched football together.”

Spencer’s mouth tightened. “That was a memorable night.”

“Oh!” My hand flew to my mouth. “Not because of that.” I flushed as I tried to ignore the memories his reaction had dredged to mind.

“It’s okay. I don’t exactly regret that night,” Spencer said in an even tone. “But it does remind me that I had something I’d been meaning to ask you.”

My mouth went dry as I considered all the possible questions that night might remind him to ask. I reached for my water glass, nodding for him to continue.

“Why does he call you dirty girl?” Spencer asked in a lowered voice.

My stomach plummeted so hard, I thought it might actually hit the ground. I'd hoped that Spencer hadn't caught that little nickname earlier, even though Holden had clearly meant for him to hear it.

But before I could answer, Holden did it for me. He prowled to the table and handed Spencer one of the drinks he carried. “I guess it just stuck from that lunch date.”

“Lunch date?” Spencer stared at me. Betrayal darkened his eyes for a moment and then vanished like clouds passing over the sun on a summer's day.

“The date wasn't with him,” I said, quickly taking a sip of water and wishing I’d taken Holden up on a stronger drink. “I was with Iris and your mother. Evie was there.”

“And so was Holden?” This time the thick confusion sounded less wounded.

“It was a coincidence.” I shrugged my shoulders, hoping we would leave soon for the village—before Holden could plant more suggestions in his brother's head.

“I think fate simply took a hand,” Holden drawled. He swished his whiskey and the brown liquid nearly spilled over the cut-crystal glass. Almost. I was starting to understand that Holden was more in control than he let on. I suspected he always was, actually. “Put you and me in that loo at the same time.”

“What?” Spencer asked, looking between the two of us.

I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t think of a thing to say. This wasn’t happening.

“It's a great story.” Holden winked at me over his brother's shoulder. “Do you want to tell it or should I?”

“It’s not a story. It’s a figment of your imagination,” I snapped at him, finally finding my voice. I couldn’t imagine how Holden’s delusions might color the events of that day. The truth was that he had no idea what I’d done in that bathroom stall. He hadn’t seen me touching myself. “Besides, I already told Spencer about it.”