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The room was full of sculptures by the best artists in the city, humanlike statues that captured beauty in solid rock. With glasses of wine in their hands, our parents drifted across the room and mingled with all the guests at the luncheon. My brother and I watched from our seats, trying not to laugh at the look of consternation on Father’s face.
“He looks like he’s in physical pain,” Atticus said with a smirk. “You’d think he’d be used to this by now.”
“Does anyone ever get used to bullshit?”
My brother looked at me. “You’re the one in a pretty dress with flowers in your hair.”
“Just because this is bullshit doesn’t mean I can’t look nice.”
“Look.” He nodded in their direction. “I don’t think he’s said a word this whole time.”
“Mother is much better at this sort of thing.” She was in a red gown with draped sleeves that exposed her shoulders. It was tight on her waist, her dark hair stretching down her back in beautiful curls. I looked just like my mother—but I had my father’s soul.
“Are you going to tell Father about Ethan?”
I turned at the mention of his name. “How do you know about that?”
He rolled his eyes slightly. “It’s not exactly a secret.”
“Well, I haven’t told anyone.” Was Ethan blabbing about his conquests to everyone?
“So, you admit it?” My brother looked at me head on.
“Did you just set me up?” My eyes narrowed.
A slow smirk moved on to his lips.
“Bastard.”
He gave a quiet chuckle.
“I can’t believe Ethan is talking.”
“He’s not. He’sshowing.”
Now my eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
He looked past me and nodded toward a sculpture on the other side of the room. It was of a beautiful woman with a flower crown upon her head, one strap of her dress dropped to expose a single, perky breast. Even in stone, her expression was distinctive, and it didn’t take more than a glance to see the similarities. Heat flushed my cheeks in embarrassment because it was so obvious.
“You’re lucky Mother and Father don’t care for the art they commissioned.”
Ethan’s balls were going to meet my heel next time we spoke.
“Seems serious.”
“We aren’t talking about this.”
“Oh, but you can stick your nose in between me and Violet?”
“Are you sleeping with her?”
“No—”
“Then it’s not the same thing,” I said. “Please don’t tell Mother and Father.”
Atticus stared at me, an eyebrow raised.
“And don’t use it as blackmail either.”
