Page 32 of Sinful
“Dacre? I don’t know him. Has he worked for the company for long?”
I feel the panic rising. Dacre told me not to touch anything, but he hasn’t schooled me in all the lies he wants me to tell. I’m afraid that anything I say will backfire on him and then he’ll take it out on me.
“I don’t believe so,” I reply, keeping my answer vague.
She lets out a long sigh. “He’s not related to Jonathan and Mary Dacre by any chance, is he?”
“They’re his parents.”
She lets out a small laugh. “Well, that explains it. Reginald does like to keep his friends close and his enemies closer.”
I don’t know how to take this. Does she mean the Dacres’ are his friends or his enemies? I give a small smile, deciding the less I speak on the matter of Dacre or his family, the better. The way he clutched onto me when Reg Letterman talked about them was enough to tell me that the topic of them wasn’t a welcome one.
I wonder what it is they’ve done to him to make him hate them so much, but then I remember my own father and the seeds of hatred prick at me. I understand Dacre more than I understand the other two.
“Here, have a canapé. They are rather delicious and make up for the droning business talk that always seems to fill these god-awful functions.” She takes my hand and carefully places a canapé into it. “Salmon and dill.”
She knows I’m blind. I guess, no matter how much I try to hide it, I stand out. “Thank you,” I say, genuinely taken by how thoughtful she is. It’s such a small gesture, but in a world where such gestures are hard to come by, I’m genuinely moved.
“Don’t you worry about it. I’ll get us both a glass of champagne. I’ll be right back.”
Her leaving makes me feel cold and the familiar pangs of fear begin to return, but less than a minute later, she’s back and I have a glass of champagne in my hand.
“I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Tina Letterman.”
“Kiranna,” I say, taking a sip of the champagne. The bubbles tickle my throat, making me cough.
“And where do you come from, Kiranna?”
My stomach squirms as I try to come up with a plausible lie. I don’t know what Dacre is saying about me, if he’s saying anything at all. This whole thread is like a thin gossamer web that could unravel at the slightest pull. "I’m from California,” I say, remembering at least that much. “Alexander thought it would be a treat for me to bring me to this party. I don’t get out much.” The understatement of the year.
It hits me that she doesn’t recognize me. Mercier must have done a good job of making me into someone else. Maybe I should change my name to Kiranna and be done with it. I take another sip of the champagne, and this time it goes down smoothly.
“What a wonderful young fellow. I’m sure he’ll be an asset to the company. Oh, there’s Cecily. I must go and speak with her. Will you be alright here by yourself? Should I find Alexander for you?”
I appreciate her trying to help me, but now I’ve had some champagne, I find that I don’t want to spend the evening with Dacre. Let him spend the evening licking his new boss’s ass. I’m at a party. A real party, with real champagne. Talking with Tina has calmed my nerves, and the alcohol is helping to soften the frayed edges. “He’s probably talking business with your husband,” I say, mustering up a small laugh. “I’ll be fine here.”
“It was lovely to meet you, Kiranna.”
It occurs to me that I should have asked her where the toilet is, but she’s already gone. I’m on my own, surrounded by hundreds of people I don’t know. Not everyone in this world is out to get me. I swallow down the rest of the champagne and polish off the canapé. It tastes divine. I stand and sway to the music, finally enjoying myself. No one else talks to me, so I listen in on nearby conversations. Tina was wrong. Not many people are talking business. Most are gossiping. I’m blind, but with the outrageous things I’m hearing about the super wealthy, it seems that people are blind to me too. I stiffen when I hear Dacre’s name in one of the conversations. I lean slightly toward the two speaking to better hear what’s being said. A woman’s voice with a slight European accent speaks first. “That’s Jonathan Dacre’s son. I thought he’d been disinherited.”
“What makes you say that?” A man’s voice this time. “I saw Jonathan and Mary a couple of weeks ago and they mentioned he was doing well at university.”
“Maybe I’m wrong. There’s been gossip, that’s all. You never see him at parties anymore. There used to be a time when he went to every soiree with them. Now, no one ever sees him.”
I shouldn’t care about what people think or say about Dacre, but listening to the two strangers speaking is more thrilling than listening to my soap operas. Dacre is like the lead man in my own private drama.
“You shouldn’t listen to gossip, Jessica. He’s here now. Of course he hasn’t been to any parties with his parents, He’s a grown man. When was the last time you went to a party with your parents?”
“That’s not fair, Christopher. You know my parents are in ill health. I’d love to go to a party with them.”
“I’m sorry I take that back, but you know what I mean. No self respecting twenty-something-year-old wants to be seen dead with their parents. I know that when I was that age, I would rather chew my own ear off than spend time with mine.”
“You weren’t the heir to a massive fortune, though, were you? I’m sure if you were going to come into billions of dollars, you’d have shown your face at least at a couple of parties. Hence why I heard he’d been disinherited.”
“Maybe, but he only inherits when they die and they are relatively young. Late fifties. Cut the guy some slack. He’s learning the ropes. Letterman gave him an internship. That’s why he’s here.”
I lean forward to catch more of the conversation, but my foot gets tangled in my chair leg and I trip, almost falling on my face.
