Page 4 of Silks

She still has it.

I had spent way too much time wondering if she was going to try to drop her Kentucky accent now that she lived in Chicago.

It wouldn’t have been easy to do. But if Ophelia wanted something, she held on like a bulldog.

“No, ma’am,” he replied, startled. “This plate is all mint juleps.”

“Whatever,” Ophelia said, and grabbed a glass, downing it like I did, then making a disgusted face.

Then her eyes flicked over to me. Apparently, she had to drink alcohol to bring herself to talk to me.

“Theodore,” she said, heading over to me.

I forced myself to remain leaning against the table as I watched her sensual, unhurried walk, the way her hips moved and rolled with each fucking intoxicating step. Sometimes I wondered if Cressida had guessed my secret, if I had talked when I was drunk, but I didn’t move a muscle.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, pleased at how cool my voice sounded.

Almost like I was a normal fucking brother who didn’t give a shit about his sister.

She stopped in front of me, and this close I could see every one of the spray of freckles on her nose and how her sunburn was beginning to peel.

Shit.

I had imagined this moment for a long time. How pissed I’d be at her. What I’d say to her. I even toyed with the idea of ignoring her, like she’d ignored every one of my calls and texts for the last two years. But now that she’s here all I’m doing is fighting the urge to let the air out of her tires, smash her car engine, so she never leaves again.

But why the fuck on this weekend, of all the worst weekends to come home?

Chapter 3 (Ophelia)

I knew I’d have to look at his stupid face, but it still infuriated me to see my brother leaning against the table like he thought he was hot shit because he was the Director of Barrington Industries now.

Can’t believe I once thought he was better than that.

“I heard your thoroughbred is shit this year,” I said, because the way he was looking fixedly at me was pissing me off.

For a moment, my brother didn’t speak, his big arms crossed across his chest tightly, one hand on his drink.