Page 5 of Mask and the Magnolia

From the most boring tour ever we went directly to the incredibly stupid cocktail hour that consisted of watching all the adults get hammered while uschildrensipped on virgin drinks. It was another pointless interaction, but that’s when Maisie talked with Walker and his little sisters, and seeing her happy for the first time since her awakening kept me just out of range. I could still see and hear everything going on, but I wasn’t looming over my baby sister, and I know she needed that.

Once Larissa and Clark Severe were nearly blasted, they stopped giving a shit about what we were doing, as well, which also helped Maisie feel like a normal teenage girl for a change.

She’s stuck as our mother’s accessory or with our father trying to vicariously live through her as an omega attending the private school he begged his parents to put him in most of the time. She doesn’t get to do things like this.

Maisie isn’t allowed to go out, she doesn’t get to have any friends, and if it wasn’t for me, she’d probably never leave the house, but she comes with me every time I do—unless I’m going to get laid—and I make sure she gets to do some of the normal shit kids do at our age.

The barbecue portion of our evening was okay. Not as good as I expected from these pricks, but they had a pretty big selection, and since I don’t get down on meat, I appreciated that. The vegetarian shish kabob wasn’t half bad, and neither was the zucchini pasta salad.

I did think it was weird that they had a vegetarian selection, especially since I was the only one eating it, but I didn’t complain. I ate, talked shit with my sister, and watched all of these weirdos similarly to the way I am now.

And I don’t stop until we’re back inside that gigantic fucking house looking for the closest toilet.

“This place is like a museum,” Maisie says as she gawks at the portrait of some dickhead in tights. “I wonder how old it is.”

“Considering Charles looks to be about one hundred and forty eight, I’d say this place is old as fuck.”

My sister giggles as she walks ahead of me. “Maybe. He does look pretty old.”

“Ancient.”

“Prehistoric.”

I grin as I watch her spin in a slow circle. “Neolithic.”

Maisie faces me with an arched brow. “Neolithic?”

“That’s a thing, right?” I ask as I shrug a shoulder, following as she starts walking again. “Either way, that bastard is older than dirt.”

“Found one.” Maisie chirps a few minutes later. “Just in time, too. I swear I was going to pee my pants if we didn’t find a bathroom soon.”

Once my sister is safely inside with the door locked, I take a moment to do a little wandering myself, following the very empty hall a few feet before I find another elaborately carved door that’s slightly open.

I bet there’s so much money in this house, a fortune in paintings and knickknacks alone. And I doubt anyone would notice if something went missing. There’s so much shit, it might even be weeks before one of these assholes realizes anything’s gone, and by then they definitely won’t give a fuck.

Deciding that elaborately carved door is my ticket to getting my car fixed, I reach for the knob but freeze the second I hear my mother’s voice on the other side.

“I’m so glad we were able to come to an agreement.”

With a frown, I move closer, trying to peek through the crack, angling myself just enough to get a good look at…

Oh my god, she’s in her fucking underwear.

I barely fight my gag, covering my mouth to smother the sound, especially when Charles Harden comes into view, the relic tucking his Johnson back into his slacks.

I fucking called it.

Iknewthat bitch had snuck off to fuck the old man but almost walking in on it?—

“Now then.” Harden moves toward his desk while he buttons his shirt. “If you’ll have a look at the contract, we can get everything signed and?—“

“You’ll cut me a check.” My mother pulls her skirt up and starts fixing her hair. “I don’t really need to read all of that, do I? I think it’s all rather straightforward.”

Harden looks up from the desk, grinning at her abrasive tone. “It is, but you’re sure you don’t want to look things over? This is your daughter we’re talking about.”

“Not after today. She’syourproblem as soon as I sign on the dotted line, and as long as I walk out of here a rich woman, I don’t really care what the contract says.”

Say what?

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