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Daniel
“Hiiiiii!”Florencesquealedexcitedly,wriggling her fingers at me as I walked through the door. She was dressed in a frilly yellow skirt and a white blouse.
“Nice bangs,” I said, noting the shiny new hair that was undoubtedly not hers and must have cost a fortune of our father's money, not that I begrudged her the indulgence. According to her, what's the fun in being a billionaire's daughter if you don't squander a few millions?
She had started her extravagant spending on luxury items as a way to get our father's attention. As the years passed and she grew angrier, it became a way to get revenge. Now it was just a habit and one she enjoyed way too much.
“Thank you,” she fanned herself dramatically. “It's real human hair. Wanna feel it?”
“I'll pass.” I took my seat at the far end of the dining table and she found hers next to me.
The table was ten feet long, more suited to a mini feast than intimate family meals. Not that we had ever had any such thing. For most of the early years, everyone just did their thing while ignoring the others and father did his best to ignore us all.
Xander and Jamie walked in, sizing me up as they did, and took the seats farthest away from me. It wasn't hard to manage. It was interesting that Florence was a full sibling with them, yet detested them more than anything. Instead, she had bounded toward me and I, in return, was protective of her. It wasn't a surprise that we were that close. Our childhoods were too similar. We had both experienced the love of a father at an early age, only to be abandoned later. Apparently, Dad couldn't be too bothered by his only daughter. And unlike Xander and Jamie, her mother ignored her, finding no potential in her.
I didn't really care much for her in the beginning, even all those times she went out of her way to be nice to me while everyone else ignored me. She always extended the hand of friendship to me, even as a child, urging me to play with her. I was an angry teenager and couldn't see past my own pain. Until I found her crying for a mother that didn't care and a father that would never come and realized she was just as lonely as I was in that big, oppressive house.
Anastasia walked in, dressed in a ridiculously formal dress and her son, Damien, following after her.
“Damn! He really had a glow up in Australia. He’s hot,” Florence said, staring with open lust at Damien, who only looked on impassively.
“And your stepbrother,” I pointed out.
“Not for long,” she countered cheekily. We kept a running bet on how long each new stepmother would last.
“Ooh, what's that?” Florence whispered excitedly. I knew without having to check that she was referring to Anastasia's necklace. The womandidlike over-the-top accessories.
“Perhaps you both could bond over shopping. The sisterhood of luxury,” I mocked.
“Nah.” She sniffed dramatically. “Too much falseness there. I'm afraid I might catch it.”
“Really?” I asked. “She seems harmless enough.”
“It's always the harmless seeming ones.” She patted my arm beside her like I was an idiot she was trying to console. “You need to keep an eye on that one.”
“I would if I cared.”
“I get that. But we could save our father from getting ripped off again.”
Dad finally came in, taking his seat at the head of the table. Caterers–because family dinners like this were always catered–shuffled in arranging plates and filling wine glasses.
Florence immediately dug into her food and everyone else followed suit.
Anastasia looked around hesitantly. “Shouldn’t we say a few words?”
Florence snickered loudly and quickly covered it with a cough. She reached for her glass of water, her eyes glowing wickedly. Everyone looked at Anastasia and shrugged, eventually just going about dinner.
“Florence,” Dad said, fork halfway to his mouth. “How was Hong Kong?”
“It was good. I got a lot of shopping done,” she said offhandedly. Dad kept staring at her.
“Is there something else you'd like to know? Didn't think you'd be interested in how I've fared for the past two years.” She casually threw barbs at dad while stuffing her mouth. While I tried to be civil with Dad because of our work relationship, she didn't try at all.
“Daniel,” Jamie called, voice all too sweet. I sighed quietly, but took another bite of chicken. As would be expected of such a dysfunctional family, drama was always the theme at family dinners.
“What are you doing about the drop in stock prices?”
“Working on it,” I replied tersely.
