Page 2 of Upper Hand

Remy, the youngest, emerges from the hallway leading to the bedroom with pink cheeks, like she just woke up. Her blonde hair is working on an escape from its bun.

“Sorry, guys. I was having a dream about a site collapse in the middle of the Colosseum.” Most Fridays, she pulls all-nighters studying archeology. Last night was clearly no exception. I always had the most vivid dreams in the hour of stolen sleep after a night haunting the alleys. At least hers are about dusty artifacts in Rome. Remy comes around the table and gives me a kiss on the cheek. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“You’re the only one.”

A frown tugs at the corner of her lips. Remy takes the seat next to mine and looks around the table. “No Elise?”

Charlotte picks up her coffee mug and cradles it to her chest like it can protect her from the bomb that’s about to go off. “She said she wasn’t feeling well, so she couldn’t come.”

I take a swig of black coffee. It tastes exactly how I feel. Bitter and sad. Who gave me the right to feel like shit? I’m the one who used Elise Bettencourt to get close to her family. I’m the one who ended things. It was all according to plan.

Success should feel more like cream and sugar. Or like Elise’s buttercream frosting. I don’t let myself doctor my coffee, and I won’t allow myself to touch that frosting again.

Or Elise.

“Awww.” Remy purses her lips. “I hope she’s not sick.” Her eyes widen at the sight of Mason, who’s going to burst a blood vessel. “Mason? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Remy. Gabriel and I were about to talk.”

“Talk about what?” A smile flashes onto my sister’s face, wavering at the corners, and disappears. It’s Remy’s nervous smile. We tried our best to keep things stable for her after our parents’ death. Routine. The energy at the table is anything but routine. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s going to be okay, Remy.” Jameson pours coffee from the carafe on the table into Remy’sMy life is in ruins!mug and hands it to her. I’m sure he meant for his smile to be reassuring. It’s too serious on him. Too tight. Is it Mason he’s pissed at or me? Or both of us?

“What’sgoing to be okay?” Remy clutches the mug with an aggressive hold. “Did something happen?”

Her eyes go between Mason and Charlotte. Remy was furious when the news about their sex contract broke. All of us were, but nobody took it like Remy did. Mason’s her hero. Forcing Charlotte Van Kempt into a dirty deal wasn’t a very heroic move.

She’ll probably be angry with me, too. My little sister might never understand that what I’m doing is different.

“Nothing happened,” I sing, patting at her shoulder. “Mason woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

Remy searches my face, eyes wide. “You’re lying.”

“He’s sure as fuck lying.” Mason’s palm comes down on the table. Charlotte puts her mug down and grabs for his hand. The mug is bright blue. It has a picture of Donald Duck. Jameson gave it to her as a wedding gift to go with his favorite one, which is red and features Mickey Mouse. He and Charlotte get along. They have jokes together. I don’t see the point. I’ll be out of the picture soon.

“I’ve had a great week,” Jameson announces. “Tell them how great it was, Mason.”

Our eldest brother grits his teeth. “Jameson had an excellent week at Phoenix. I didn’t have to threaten his job even once. Now cut the bullshit, Gabriel.”

“There is no bullshit.”

“I found a new property that Mason loves. It’s going to triple in value after it’s developed.” Jameson leans toward Mason. “Thank you, Jameson. You’re a genius.”

“You’re a pain in my ass,” Mason says to Jameson. Then he stabs a finger in my direction. “Butyou.”

“I’m your favorite.” I could throw up on the floor. My chest hurts, rib to rib. I wish Elise were here. I wish I could apologize. I wish I could mean it, but I can’t. It’s better this way.

“Did you hear that, Sunshine?” Jameson’s words are light and joking, but his tone is tense as a stretched seam. “This is what I get for my best work.”

“Gabriel.”

Mason thunders my name, and everyone else freezes. I look at him over my coffee cup, meaning to deflect, meaning to do fuckinganything,but something else happens instead.

It’s like a jump cut in a bad horror film, only the memory’s real. Mason, eighteen years old, clinging to the folding table we had in the kitchen, blood drained from his face. He’d insisted on sitting up to sign the documents that liquidated our parents’assets to pay their debts, so I’d carried him to the table and eased him into one of the rickety chairs.

He couldn’t sit. Even with painkillers, it was too much.Gabriel,he’d said.Gabriel.

“I’ve had enough.” His voice, strong and steady and pissed, snaps me back to reality. I can’t muster up a grin. Too busy concentrating on not being sick. “It’s been a fun game, but it’s over. You and your company are joining Phoenix.”

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