Page 3 of Sweet Lies

“Sarah,” she calls to Tony Costa’s wife, already forgetting about me. Her floor-length red dress sweeps the floor as she glides across the room, and I’m momentarily grateful that the marble beneath her feet is spotless.

“Happens all the time,” I mutter to myself.

“What did Kim want?” Claire asks, appearing at my side.

In typical Claire fashion she’s dressed to perfection in a floor-length silver dress that hugs her body. She’s stunning, but not just because of the dress. Her confidence is what makes Claire, well, Claire. She can walk into a room full of men and make them all second-guess themselves—one of the few women in our world to be as kick-ass as the men. She moves around it easily and with confidence. If she said the sky was purple, I would question my eyesight.

“Nothing. She ran into me,” I answer quickly, hoping she won’t make something out of nothing. Both she and Elijah, our brother, have gotten it into their heads that they need to look after me twenty-three hours of the day. They’re only a couple of years older than me but still treat me like a child.

“Probably wanted to show that ring off. You were the only one whose face she hadn’t shoved it in yet.” She laughs. “I don’t see how she lifts her hand to pick up a fork.”

“She seems happy,” I mutter before changing the topic to something more important. “Don’t stay here long. You’ll draw attention to us, and I prefer to stay out of the limelight,” I rattle off nervously. Eyes tend to find Claire. I don’t blame them though—my sister is impressive.

I glance around the enormous room, making sure no one else is looking. The large glass doors that lead to the backyard and pool are wide open, cooling off the sweltering room. Bulletproof glass windows flow from room to room, giving the appearance that it’s all one large space. Having the furniture pushed back or removed for the evening only enhances that appearance. The white marble floors appear shinier, with all the candles around and the chandeliers casting light through their myriad crystals.

Breathing in through my mouth sends a taste of the different French perfumes that have been circling the air down my throat. My hand brushes my neck as if I could remove the flavor with a simple touch. Dresses of all lengths float from one room to the next, their owners’ hands grasping crystal glasses. Most are wearing gold and silver this year. I’m happy I went with a short gold dress, so it’s easier for me to blend in.

“That wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world,” she throws back. I give her a look, and she smiles. “I have your back, Bec. No one will mess with you here. Plus, it’s your house.”

“Oh, it’s your house, is it?”

Our dad’s humor is evident in his tone, and I turn to find him at my back. He’s appeared as if out of thin air. I really should get him a bell or something.

His smile is warm as he lifts his glass to his lips, taking a sip of what I assume is whiskey. To look at him on the street, you wouldn’t realize who he was, but once you drew near, you would get that feeling of unease—the feeling that this man has control over his domain and has and will kill to stay in power.

Lucas Rossi is a man of average height and build, his body well kept with the use of the basement gym. His hair, once entirely black, now has signs of gray showing at the temples, but his eyes are as alert as ever. He’s a man able to command a room with a look or a word.

When he smiles at you, you believe you’re the most crucial person in the room. My dad and I have always been close, though not in the way he is with my siblings. He shares his work with them more than me, but I get more of the father, and they get more of the boss. I’ll take that trade any day of the week, happy to stay in the dark on most of the business dealings.

“Why does everyone want to give away my position tonight?” I try to add some laughter to my voice, but I’m getting more concerned. I only have to be here a little while longer and then I can escape. But if everyone talks to me, I’ll be forced to stay down. My stress level is rising. I’d love to just talk to my family, but I have no wish to mingle with the others.

“Bec is worried she’ll get trapped here with the rest of us,” Claire says, taking a drink of her water—at least I think it’s water.

He laughs. “Ahh, well, we can’t have that,” he says, glancing around the room. It may appear like a simple glance, but I know he’s noting where everyone is and who they’re speaking to. He’s paying attention to who might just need one more drink before they let something of use slip. He does nothing without an agenda of some sort. It’s served him well. Claire and Elijah take after him in that respect, but I have no desire to take notes. I’ll be happy to get to my room and open a new book on my Kindle.

“Where did E run off to?” I ask. I haven’t seen him in a while. He and Andre had shown up together just as the first guest arrived before disappearing into the crowd. Each of them had brought a date I didn’t recognize. I’d tried not to let my annoyance over Andre bringing someone show on my face. He wasn’t mine, after all. He could ring in the New Year with anyone he wished.

At the question, Dad’s face hardens. “He was with Andre taking care of some business.”

I shiver at his tone and look down.

Claire hides her surprise with a drink before answering, “I’m hurt they didn’t ask me to join.”

“You get away with more than you should,” he mumbles, but I know he wouldn’t have it any other way. He’s grown used to only having to worry about one child.

Claire pouts, and I almost laugh at her expression—it’s like a lion laughing. It still looks intimidating. I start to ask what’s going on, but something or someone has drawn his attention.

“Enjoy the party. Claire, try to behave,” he states before turning away. He doesn’t have to tell me to behave.I’m the most boring person here. “The house looks great, Bec. Thank you.”

I nod my response so he can just leave. I’d been up early to go over with the staff how I wanted everything to be, from the tables to the silverware—everything had its place and order.

“It does look great, Rebecca,” my sister adds after he’s gone. “Try to enjoy yourself.”

“I’ll leave that to you and Elijah. I don’t want to say the wrong thing and start an issue.”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s a party, not a meeting. Plus, if you did, we have enough space to bury the bodies.” She laughs, lifting her hand to my shoulder and squeezing. “Your sweet sixteen is coming up in a week. Think of this as practice.”

That party fills me with dread. I wanted it to be just the family but it’s blown up to an event. The last thing I wanted was another reminder of a function I can’t get out of attending.

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