Page 68 of Sweet Chaos
Sienna’s engagement had given my mother a new lease on life, and I’d been coerced into attending the engagement party. Everything had to be perfect. Including me. Things like this mattered to her, and I didn’t want to ruin anything for her or Sienna. So I had promised to be on my best behavior. Which meant that I’d barely said three words.
Sienna and Chase stayed close to each other’s side throughout the night. He had an entitled look about him that always made me feel like he thought he was better than everyone. Like my father. They even had the same Ivy League haircut. Short and tapered with a side part. He wore a dark suit and a pressed white shirt. Sienna wore a liquid gold dress and a smile.
“You look beautiful, Scar,” Sienna had said when I arrived, pulling me into a hug. I had waited for the guilt to come but somewhere along the way, guilt had taken a backseat to heartache.
Even though I knew I shouldn’t, I missed Dylan and I still thought about him all the time. Judging by the radio silence, he didn’t give me a passing thought. It shouldn’t hurt but it did.
“Thank you. You look beautiful too.” She did. Sienna was undeniably beautiful. We were both blonde and blue-eyed but that was where the similarities ended. She was tall and willowy, her features classically beautiful, with an air of elegance that I’d never have.
“Mom was worried you’d turn up looking like a hobo.” Sienna laughed.
“That’s why she sent me feathers and red-soled shoes.”
“They’re so you.”
“Sure they are.”
I’d never in a million years pick out this ensemble—a short black strapless concoction of tulle and feathers with black and white jacquard Louboutin’s. This little outfit cost as much as a used car. I was mentally calculating how much I could get for it on eBay when my mother grabbed my arm.
“Where’s your father gone?” she asked, her voice hushed as if she didn’t want her guests to catch on that she’d lost her husband.
“I don’t know.” I was busy avoiding him. So far, so good.
“Go find him,” she said under her breath, smoothing a hand over her blonde hair, freshly highlighted for the occasion. “He’s been gone for half an hour.”
“I’m sure he’ll turn up soon. Like a bad penny.”
“Scarlett.” She squeezed my hand, her eyes pleading. “Please.”
“Fine.”
“Thank you. And you went a little heavy on the eyeliner, honey. Stop in the downstairs bathroom and fix that.” She patted my arm before she swanned away to entertain her guests. It never ceased to amaze me how my mother could be hypercritical one minute and completely dismissive the next. I couldn’t remember the last time she asked me how I was doing, and actually listened to my answer.
When would I get it through my head that she really didn’t care?
I weaved through the people milling about, in search of my father. When I didn’t find him in the living room or dining room, I made a beeline for the library. That’s where he conducted business during these social gatherings. For my father, every party was a networking opportunity. No doubt he was plotting world domination.
The library door was slightly ajar, and I stopped outside it as my father’s voice reached my ears. “See to it that you shut this down. We haven’t come this far only to lose to that little shit.”
“It’s not only St. Clair you’re up against,” another male voice said. The mayor? “A lot of people are opposed to your plans.”
That little shit. One of my father’s many pet names for Dylan. I’d heard about my father’s plans. It was the talk of the town, so it wasn’t a secret. I felt bad for Dylan though. I knew how important The Surf Lodge was to him.
“Who put you in office, Hank?”
“The voters.”
“Bullshit. I put you in office. And don’t you forget it. You work for me. The council… the planning commission… they work for me. Find me the weakest links and I’ll take care of the rest.”
I bet he would.
I backed away from the door and hid under the oak staircase, my back pressed against the damask-papered wall as the mayor and another man walked out of my father’s library and headed in the opposite direction from where I stood.
Coast clear, I plastered on a smile and walked into the library. It was all dark wood, leather, and Oriental rugs with a Medieval-looking tapestry above the polished mahogany bar.
My father was pouring himself a scotch from a crystal decanter and looked over at the doorway, brows raised in question.
“Hey Dad.” Smile still firmly in place. “Mom’s looking for you.”
