AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She was pinup perfection in a skintight, strapless, bangled dress in the colors of Champagne and crystal, like she’d dressed for the room. It was held up at her burgeoning, ample chest by what could only be a miracle.
Her eyes shot down to my gold sandals and up to my golden hair, and it concerned me greatly when obvious jealousy crossed her features like a dark shadow before she hid it behind a sip of Champagne.
So, Ian was a cocky-as-all-hell flirt, but still, he didn’t know women inside and out.
He’d been wrong.
That woman wasn’t going to leave me alone tonight. No way.
Making this worse, Ian moved forward to claim me, and I wished he hadn’t.
I was not exactly angry at him, but he was spoiled for choice as to rooms he could have put me and Lou in. His choice was…if not wrong, then not right.
Furthermore, I wasn’t his to claim and I was perfectly capable of walking into a room alone.
“Daphne, allow me to introduce you,” he said, placing his hand on the small of my back so that I could feel the tips of a few of his fingers against my skin at the cutout and drawing me deeper into diamonds.
During the introductions, Stevenson hung back as I endured Michael and Mary’s superciliousness, this piled onto Richard’s, Jane’s distracted but this time far warmer brush of cheeks, Daniel’s customary overenthusiastic greeting, and finally, Chelsea’s catty glare.
It looked like it was turning out to be another fun night at Duncroft.
“Where’s Louella Fernsby?” Michael Dewhurst demanded, lifting up on his toes (he was rather short, also rather balding) to look over my head toward the door. “And your little pip, Daniel?”
“His little pip has a name,” I said. “She’s Portia. And she and Daniel just returned from London. She’s freshening up for dinner.”
Michael, clearly not accustomed to someone calling him on his shit, glowered at me.
I dismissed him and warmly thanked Stevenson, who was hovering while holding a tray of glasses of Champagne.
“As for Lou, I checked on her on the way down,” I went on after I took a sip. “She’s having some issues with headaches. She said she hopes she’ll be well enough to join us for dinner.”
Michael appeared crestfallen, which didn’t make Mary too happy.
Daniel sidled close and requested under his breath, “Can we talk?”
I looked up at him. “Now isn’t the time.”
“It really was a work thing,” he replied.
“Mm,” I hummed to the rim of my glass before I took another sip.
“You’re friends with your stepmother?” Chelsea inquired.
I nodded. “Good friends.”
“Would stand to reason,” she noted to everyone and no one. Then aimed at me, “She’s your age, isn’t she?”
“Chels,” Ian warned low.
“Am I lying?” she asked mock-innocently.
“Yes, though not exactly,” I answered her calmly. “She’s five years older.”
“Is that bizarre?” Chelsea inquired, then again to everyone and no one. “I mean, if it were me, I’d find it hard to handle.”
“I loved my dad. He loved Lou. I met Lou and fell in love with her too. He died too young, and we grew even closer as we nursed him until the end. They didn’t have a lot of time together, and perhaps our family isn’t normal, but tell me whose is, and I’ll uncover the rocks to prove it untrue. We are who we are, do what we do, and we have two choices. Live in glass houses and throw stones or live outside them and get stones thrown at us.”
Chelsea squinted her eyes at me irritably.
