Page 3 of Brazen Mistakes

Chapter 2

Trips

After the disaster that was the fucking Rubens in the family art gallery, I’d hoped the rest of the day would be a flying fucking cakewalk.

But of course, shit just keeps snowballing down on me, like a nightmare plumbing failure.

Trevor hasn’t left my side, his freaking teenaged fiancée giggling like my brother is the height of humor. He isn’t even trying to be funny; he’s so pissed he’s almost forgotten to be charming. The golden boy knows he’s out of the loop, and he hates it.

If there was one thing that Father understood when he was planning his future empire, it was that Trevor is shit at secrets. He probably doesn’t even realize the engagement gift he got for Olivia was stolen, let alone that I was the one who took it.

And Olivia? Turns out she’s a freshman at some ritzy-ass private liberal arts school, and she’s been whispering to me throughout lunch about how thrilled she is that my family is letting her drink the wine. Because she’s a fucking child. My twenty-seven-year-old brother is marrying a girl three years younger than I am.

Disgusting.

And to add to that discomfort, Father’s been taking every opportunity to catch my eye, as smug as a cat with a half-dead mouse in its mouth. He won this round. He knows it. I know it. And it feels like lava in my guts. One good rumble and I’m bound to explode.

Mattie slides up next to me after luncheon, dragging me away from Trevor and Olivia. I’ve never been so grateful for a save by my kid sister as I am right now.

We sneak into the game room unseen, and Mattie flops onto the couch, one arm flung across her eyes. “Archie, did you see her? Olivia? I mean, she’s nice and all, but Trevor’s, like, super old, and she’s practically my age. Can’t you tell him to stop?”

Peering around the ceiling, I debate my answer. Mattie cuts into my thoughts. “We’re safe. Just yesterday, I pretended to call Lily and announced that Benny Benson got me pregnant. As I’m still here, and Benny Benson is still posting online, obviously not dead, I have to assume this room is clean for now.”

What a way to test the security. I pour a finger of the good scotch from the cabinet for myself. Wine isn’t going to cut it if I’m staying here until tomorrow evening. “That was risky. And why the hell would you think I have an ounce of controlover anything that goes on in this family, Mattie? I’m just the meathead spare son.”

Mattie holds out a hand for some scotch. “Better the muscle than the bargaining chip.”

I salute her with my glass, ignoring her unspoken request.

It could be worse, I guess. Mattie’s probably only a few years from a similar arrangement as Olivia if we can’t get her out of it.

During the interminable luncheon, the political princess told me all about how she and Trevor met at a party on her dad’s yacht and how they’d just hit it off. A whirlwind summer romance, with Trevor proposing before she left for college. Only, I’ve spent more than a decade sniffing out my father’s plans, so I usually catch a whiff even when they’re subtle. And this was anything but.

There was a reason Trevor was at that party, and there was a reason he pointed the full force of his charm at some kid.

It’s all about money and connections. Poor Olivia is a bargaining chip, and unlike Mattie, she doesn’t even realize it.

I knock Mattie’s feet off the couch, so she sits up cross-legged in her designer jeans and Christmas sweater, her dark auburn curls falling over her shoulders. Still a kid, all coltish angles and sass, but my kid sister isn’t going to get to keep that label for long. “How’s the first semester of high school, Sparkles? Still kicking it with the rich bitches?”

“I own their shiny asses, Archie, and don’t you forget it.”

I chuckle, hiding it behind my tumbler. “Anybody there remember my troubled ass?”

She plucks the glass from my hand and takes a sip before handing it back. She doesn’t even cough. Not good. “VicePrincipal Nelson pulled me out the first week, but I think it was just to get a read on me. It’s not like I give off ‘beat someone unconscious’ vibes. Not everyone can be expelled and get a juvie record all before they turn seventeen.”

“As I said, meathead extra son.”

“Meathead extra son with a 4.0 GPA.”

“Gotta keep all those bastards on their toes somehow.” Mattie laughs and dives for my drink, but this time I see it coming and block her. “Sparkles—”

My phone buzzes in my pocket, giving Mattie a chance to snag my glass and dance away from me as I pull it out. It’s Clara.

I answer the call as I dive for my sister. “I swear to God, Matilda Evangeline Westerhouse, you are only fourteen.”

“As if you have a single toenail to stand on, Archie,” she retorts, taking another sip of my drink.

“And my lack of toenails gave me a juvie record instead of an Ivy League education, Mattie.”

---