Page 5 of Silks
“It’s been a long time, Ophelia,” he said, and his voice sounded low and hoarse.
“Has it?” I asked, tossing my head. “I didn’t notice. The time away from you fairly flew by.”
I was trying to goad him, but all he said was, “Why didn’t you answer my calls?”
“I didn’t want to,” I said, although I felt a stab of guilt.
I was in the right, of course. But still. I couldn’t help that stupid stab of guilt.
Must be our stupid shared blood, because I had no reason to feel guilty. If Teddy wanted to talk to me, he could have done what we agreed.
But I didn’t want to say any of that in the middle of the Barrington Selective Breeding Foundation Charity Night, so I just reached forward and grabbed the glass of whiskey from my brother’s hands.
“I’ll take that. You drink too much anyway.”
With one gulp and a defiant look at him, I downed it.
Ah, shit, I never drank whiskey, and this felt like my throat was being ripped open, strips of my flesh getting peeled off.
I gasped and closed my eyes.
“Very impressive, Ophelia,” my twin said. “Now drink a glass of water.”
I opened my eyes to him holding one out to me, a little spark of amused laughter on his face, and I knocked it away from him, the glass rolling across my parents’ glossy green lawn.
“You must be Ophelia,” someone broke in, and for the first time my eyes focused on the woman at my brother’s elbow. She was tall and thin and beautiful, with slicked-back dark hair and a dramatic backless gown. “I’m Cressida Riley-Smith.”
If I’d been in a better mood I might have felt sorry for Cressida Riley-Smith. Even though my brother might look like the perfect finance trust fund 6’5 blue-eyes, Teddy was a double-bagging casual sex bro, not the marrying type.
“But then you’ve probably heard him talk about me?” she went on, putting a laughing hand on his chest.
Christ, my twin was such an asshole of historic proportions that I’d never even heard him praise another woman.
“Actually, I haven’t,” I said, trying to goad Teddy. “But then we aren’t very close.”
I saw something flash in my brother’s blue eyes, almost like the warning look he’d shoot me when we were teenagers and something smart I said was about to get me in trouble.
Cressida looked highly offended that I hadn’t heard of her.
“I’ve heard about you,” she sniffed. “Theodore says you’re into protesting and animal rights,” she continued, as if it was a rare fungal infection. “But you’ll give all that up when he runs for Louisville mayor, won’t you? It doesn’t look good.”
Sparks of irritation shot through me, and I grabbed another repulsive mint julep. God, my parents always made them way too sweet.
“How would him being mayor affect you?” I asked. “Being mayor sounds like the logical next step for Theodore Barrington the FIFTH, but I don’t see what it has to do with you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m sure I have some friends to see here.”
And I still was trying to be nice, except she grabbed my arm, and her smile was contemptuous. “We’ve been dating for several months,” she purred. “Let’s try to get along since we’re practically family.”
I looked down at her long nails, wrenching my arm from her grasp.
“Here’s some information for you, Cressida Riley-Smith,” I said, smiling brightly at her as I could feel the lovely bubbles of intoxication begin to swirl around me. “Theodore is never going to marry you, you’ll never be the mayor’s wife, and he probably doesn’t remember your middle name.”
My brother’s face didn’t move, but Cressida’s mouth dropped in horror. “Are you going to let her talk to me like that?” she demanded.
“Sure,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “I’m not going to stop her. If you don’t like it, you can leave.”
Cressida looked gobsmacked and started to complain in a low tone, but in such a half-assed way that it was obviously she was nervous about actually making Teddy mad.
But he was just looking at me. I thought I saw a muscle throb in his jawline above that dark navy-blue suit and silky navy tie.