AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“How long have you been living in London?” It was C.S., and he’d adopted a beady-eyed stare.
As expected it was turning out to be more of a trial by judge and jury than a social occasion.
Draco took a sip of his wine. He hadn’t meant to drink any of it, but they were getting into difficult territory. How much had Compton Senior found out about Sean, and would he remember enough to trigger a connection? It was a risk even letting them know he was Welsh, but there was nothing he could do about his accent. Had Compton Senior taken an interest in the case when it came to court? As he assessed the risk level, Draco grew even more concerned about Lara, understanding why she was so tense.
For him, it was easy. If a connection was made and questions rose, he could walk away—quickly, before Compton had him arrested. Lara had a hell of a lot more at stake. Once it came out, it had to be done the right way and things had to go in her favor or she could lose her family connection—tentative though it seemed to begin with—because of her endeavors to match up to her brothers.
Reminding himself of the brief outline he’d had of Steve, the guy he was supposed to be, he responded. “I came to London for college, to get a degree in business. I’m just at the end of my first year, same as Lara.”
He risked a glance. Her eyes were wide and she looked as if she was holding her breath. She’d gone quite pale. She grabbed her fork and started eating. A moment later, she addressed Cassandra. “This is really good.”
Cassandra twitched visibly when spoken to, as if she were miles away. She rose to her feet and began collecting plates as she went, whether they were empty or not, which seemed odd.
Compton Senior turned to watch his wife leave the room. Everyone did, except for Charlie, who was glued to his phone again.
“Is she always like this?” Draco whispered under his breath.
Lara shrugged.
She’d mentioned coming to dinner as a regular event, but there was no evidence of a connection or even an understanding between them. It seemed as if Lara Compton knew very little about her stepmother.
It made Draco recall the moment that Patrick Rattigan had arrived into their lives with his two sons, Rory and Sean. They’d all been a bit wary of each other at first, but the distance was very quickly broken down. They all got on well—like a house on fire, Patrick Rattigan used to say. Draco was beginning to realize how lucky he was. He was closer to his stepbrothers then Lara was to her real brothers. Dysfunctional families, he supposed. It was a game of chance.
When Sean got out of jail and they all got together, he wouldn’t forget this moment—the austere dining room atmosphere, the lack of humor and family feeling. The last year or so he’d been spending a lot of time on his own, but things would change pretty soon. Rory was with Sky now and Draco was beginning to accept it. Sean would be out of jail and the tension between himself and Rory over it would break down. That time couldn’t come soon enough for Draco.
He made a mental note to text both Sky and Rowan later, let them know he appreciated them and try to plan some sort of get together on Sean’s release.
When Cassandra came back in with the main course, Draco realized Compton senior was studying him. His thoughts had wandered.
Dishes of vegetables were set out on the table and Cassandra served hearty slabs of Beef Wellington on each dinner plate.
“I hope you don’t mind me asking, Sir,” Draco said, retrieving one of his planned questions to fill the silence, “but how long has Susanna been head of HR?”
Compton Senior seemed to welcome the opportunity to talk about the old days, and rambled on at length about setting up different departments. It was a bloody relief. Both he and Lara were interested and hung on every word, but they were the only ones.
By his side, Lara relaxed and actually ate some of the food. The beef was good, but Draco had no appetite for it. He ate some for appearances sake. He barely touched his wine. He wanted to remain sharp, in case the more difficult questions were yet to come.
The brothers were largely silent as if the meal was a commitment they had to get past. Charles disappeared at one point and when he came back he fidgeted with his nose. Had he really gone to snort coke to get through this? Wryly, Draco considered anyone might if it was like this every night.
C.S. did keep engaging with his wife, and she smiled each time. The worst of the tension was there between husband and wife, Draco noticed. Cassandra was very much the trophy wife, it was obvious. She was glamorous, and dressed sexy, with lots of obvious signs of wealth, but she didn’t engage with C.S. the way Lara attempted to. Lara was all about work chat, frequently trying to get her father to acknowledge her presence.
It made Draco want to stand up and tell the old guy what a loser father he was, and take Lara away somewhere she could relax and party, convince her to give up this insane quest to impress her father. In this environment, Draco knew more than ever he wanted her to be safe and happy. The image it created in Draco’s mind included himself in the role of protector. He had to remind himself constantly of his real role here, and that was to support Lara in her mission to impress C.S., even though he felt like doing just the opposite.
Growing up, he’d protected his two younger sisters from their mum when she went on one of her benders. Until their mum got remarried and calmed down, Draco had to make sure his sisters were safe when she got home from one of the sessions driven by drugs or alcohol, or both. Often she’d have some loser in tow. The unbidden memory made Draco feel uneasy. This wasn’t the same though.
At the end of each course, Cassandra stood up to collect the plates. Restless after the forced conversation, Draco rose from his seat after the main course and set about helping her. Immediately Cassandra looked uncomfortable.
“You don’t have to do that, you’re a guest.” She gave one of her artificial smiles.
A Stepford wife, that’s what she reminded of him of, Draco finally realized. She was artificial, almost robotic.
“Yeah, you sit down and I’ll help,” Jamie announced. He grabbed some of the serving dishes and headed off.
Lara tugged on Draco’s shirtsleeve, and looked as if she wanted him to stay.
“You have good manners, young man.” Compton Senior commented.
That annoyed Draco. The guy didn’t know anything about his upbringing and yet felt his position entitled him to comment. Whatever.
