Page 49 of The Invitation

“I said”—Jesus, I can’t hear myself think. That might be a good thing—“you’re telling me now?”

“You’re better than that. He made you ... I don’t know. Boring too.”

“Jesus, Clark.”

“Listen to me a minute,” he shouts, coming even closer to my ear. “He made you think you weren’t good enough at what you do. So you became better than you already were, and his plan backfired.”

“Are you saying he only ever wanted me for my baby-making abilities?”

“’Course not. You’re a beautiful woman, Amelia. I’m still fighting off all my mates, which, by the way, I’d hap-hap-happily set you up with.” He gives me a serious look, and I smile at his eyes wandering slightly.

“All of them?”

Clark snorts, disgusted. “I’m sure you’ve noticed ... that Nick only decided ... he wanted marriage and babies when you told him you wanted ... to go for partner at LB&B.”

I still for a moment. Yes, actually, I did notice that. Perhaps too late, but I’ve definitely considered it.

“What I’m saying is,” Clark slurs on, his volume just high enough for me to hear. “Nick got more than he bargained for, and he’s not confident or strong enough to be with a woman who might overtake him on the career ladder. Fuck, you’re already close.”

“So that’s your conclusion?”

“My conclusion is, my sister needs a cerrrr ... tain type of man, and N-Nick ain’t it.” He holds up his glass, and I chink mine with his in toast.

“I don’t need any man right now, but I hear you.”

“Good.” He leans forward. “Knock one on my cheek.”

I plant a kiss where ordered, rolling my eyes to myself. My brother forgetting who’s eldest is a regular problem. “Now, please, let that hair back down and have some fun. You can be driven and spon-spon-taneous at the same time, you know?”

I laugh, but it dries up when I see Jude across the club heading this way, looking savagely angry. And I realise.

“Oh no.”

“What?” Clark yells, coming closer again.

“Please, please, please.” I slip off my stool and set my glass down, ready to block Jude’s path to my brother, but I’m too slow. He’s got Clark bent backwards over the bar in a heartbeat, and poor Clark looks more than stunned as Jude growls in his face. I can’t believe this. “What are you doing?” I hiss, shoving Jude back, incensed, as he heaves before me and rakes a hand through his mussed hair.

“You think that’s okay?” His yells blend with the loud music. “Flaunting yourself with any man to get a rise out of me?” Stepping into me, he leans over my shorter frame, his face up close to mine. “Well, here I fucking am, Amelia, giving you a fucking rise.”

I stare at him, stunned, and without warning to me or Jude, my hand flies out and slaps him clean across the face. He thinks I’d play those games? I’m a fucking woman, not a drama-thriving little girl.

Jude blinks, shocked, and I retract my hand, the sting real.Shit.

I look back at an alarmed Clark. Does he think a man like this will suit me? “Doesn’t seem like you need me to step in and be all brotherly,” he yells, glancing at my burning hand.

“Clark,” I say, my voice unstoppably wobbly, “meet Jude Harrison.”

Jude’s lips part as realization finds him. “Shit,” he mouths. “Fuck, Amelia, I—”

I don’t want his apology. I turn and give Clark a kiss. “I’ll call you.” And push past Jude, leaving. I don’t know where I’m going or how the hell I’m going to get there, but I’m suffocating. I’ll walk. Get some air.

“Amelia, wait,” Jude yells.

I look back and see him straightening Clark out, patting down his suit as he keeps a frantic eye on me retreating. My pace increases.

And he comes after me. I’m not surprised.

I thrust the doors onto the terrace open and hurry through the crowd of smokers, finding the path, my heels crunching across the stones as I rush beneath the pergolas.

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