“I’m pretty sure I’ve been feeding her real food, kid, but if you want burgers I can do that.”
“Yeah, Gramps, maybe we can ask Ash to make us some here for dinner!” he yells down the table, garnering my father’s attention with his loud and altogether enthusiastic joy.
The old man, instead of giving him the usual grunt and evil eye, stares at him thoughtfully, his eyebrow raised in contemplation.
“I’ll consider your request when you stop throwing grapes into my soup, young man.”
And with that he flicks his newspaper and goes back to his usual pursuit of ignoring any and everyone around him. His wife included.
Of course, I’m sitting there with my bloody mouth hanging open and struggling to associate that calm demeanor with the scathing, heated set-downs I’d received my whole life.
“Hey, all my party people! Why didn’t anyone invite the Cammy to the party?”
Oh, bleeding Christ!
I turn just as the little termagant comes hopping into the room, her bottom lip hanging in a mock pout that lasts all of thirty seconds before she turns to Mother with look of patient understanding.
“Your invitation must have been lost in the mail. No worries! I’m here now. Sooo, anywho, I’ve brought along my fiancé to meet the parentals. Now, now Mother, don’t get all over excited! He’s just a lowly American come to meet you,” she trills, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Camille—”
“Oh, chill out,” she laughs. “Hi, Pops! Are you still tuning out of life to ignore the old ball and chain’s existence then? That sucks.”
I’m silently laughing at this all too familiar display when Brody comes strolling in, his face a portrait of lazy indulgence.
“Keep it down, sugar, the staff are circling the wagons. Want to introduce your guy or what?” he drawls, planting a kiss on her puckered brow.
“Um, not until she answers my question. No sense in doing the song and dance if we’re not staying. Sooo, Mother dearest, is it true that you paid that Barker girl to lie to Luc about his daughter and then stashed her with some flaky, good for nothing old coot in the wilds of Cornwall?”
And I should have known the little baggage would come in and muscle in on my fun.
Chapter Thirty
Oh, aaaawkwaaard!
A pin could drop at the neighbors’ place and we’d still hear it, it’s gone that quiet in the room. As introductions and first meetings go, this one hasn’t been so bad.
Of course, it could have been worse, considering the kids’ behavior and my own brand of charm, but I have to give this lady credit: she’s a mine of patience and disdainful sufferance.
What I don’t get is how that bag of rotten ever gestated anything alive, never mind giving birth to Cammy.
But back to the matter at hand.
I peep over at her from beneath my lashes and see the outward flinch she can’t manage to hide before looking down the table at Lucian’s father, Lord Jasper the Disinterested, and I gape.
He’s looking at his wife. No, that can’t be simply described as a look. He’s fuming over at his wife, his face having gone so cold and dead I suddenly know where Lucian gets the skill.
This dude is one hundred percent pissed off and all kinds of mad. If I were sour lips, I’d be outta here as fast as my legs could carry me. But this woman…she’s a whole ‘nother breed, apparently, because she just calmly sits there, schooling her features under that molten stare.
And then he stands, coming to his feet—so deceptive, he’d looked, because this dude must be at least six three if not more—and planting his fists into the table.
“Tell me.”
“Well, honestly, I have no idea what the child is saying.”
Lie!
“Listen to me, and listen very carefully, Cynthia. If I find out that this is true, that my son had a child that you hid away or got rid of…if your name is in any way linked with any of this, I will make you regret the day you ever met me. Understood?”
She can do nothing but nod, her thin veneer of disdain cracking beneath one of the worst stares I have ever seen on a human being’s face.
“Lucian, my study. Now.”
I wanna go with, just in case my guy needs help against Mr Coldness, but one look and shake of the head lets me off the hook, leaving me alone with the kiddies, the dragon, and a smiling Cammy and Brody.
Phew. Seems wrong, but right now I’m thinking this chick is most definitely the lesser of two evils.
“Daaamn, Mother, that was one hell of a cracker you just told Pops, huh?” she continues, smiling broadly enough I’m worried her cheeks will rip.
“You little upstart—”