Page 49 of Silks

I was left with the jagged edge of the stem and I straightened up and sliced through Dad’s silk shirt, belly to throat.

He yelped as the stem left a trail of burst flesh under its cruel point. I went up slowly, making sure he felt every goddamn inch, hesitating only at his throat, where I hovered indecisively. Then I paused, and pulled the broken glass away.

Ophelia might be mad.

“I told you to keep her out of this,” I said calmly.

“You’re insane!” Dad said, his hands desperately covering up the cut with his shredded silk shirt, and I was interested in a dispassionate way to see that there was real fear in his eyes as he looked at me. I had never seen that from my father before.

“You raised me to be cold, single-minded and ruthless,” I said, shrugging. “And I am. Just not for the goddamn company. Not for Barrington Stables.”

I paused, letting Dad wonder what I was going to do with the jagged edge still pointed at him.

“For my sister, yes, I am insane. Don’t talk about her. Don’t fuck with her. Or you’ll be sorry.”

I threw the broken stem into the fire and turned to go.

My father spoke as my hand touched the aged wood of the door, his voice vibrating with fury.

“On Monday I’m going to tell the board what you’ve done and they’ll have you removed as the Director.”

I shrugged, not bothering to look back to see the bloody line I’d scoured up his chest, the way I could easily have gone further, how easy it would have been to slit his throat and watch him bleed out on the floor.

I’ll give up anything to make her happy.

When I got back into the other room, Ophelia pounced on me.

“What did he want?” she hissed.

I folded instantly like a cheap chair. “Dad wanted me to give one of the other thoroughbreds something to handicap her tomorrow. Cheap-ass pussy trick, if you ask me.”

Ophelia’s eyes darkened with fury. “Which horse? It’s Sweet Pea, isn’t it?”

I felt the grin spread over my face.

“I thought you said you didn’t keep up with horse racing anymore.”

“It’s important to be aware of current events,” she said stiffly. “We have to stop it, Teddy. We can’t let them do that to Sweet Pea.”

“It’s dangerous,” I said. “I don’t know how many of Dad’s contractors will be there and the stables themselves will have guards.”

“Come on, Teddy,” Ophelia said, turning those luminescent gray eyes to me. “They’re going to hurt her.”

“They don’t really want to hurt her,” I said, waffling as fuck. “It won’t permanently injure Sweet Pea.”

Even as I said it, it seemed inadequate.

I could feel myself doing the same shit I had for as long as I could remember.

The eternal “how high” to my sister’s “jump.”

I was 27 years old. People at work were scared shitless of me.

But I was as big of a simp for my sister as I ever was, goddamit.

“Dad’s in with some very dangerous people,” I added. “Some of the guys going in with him on the bet will not like losing.”

“What the fuck are you built like a linebacker for then?” she hissed at me, her little hand on my arm. “Besides holding your sister down and fucking her, of course.”