Chapter 82 Vintage wine then tapwater
CHAPTER 82: Vintage wine then tapwater
Silas
The air in the grand ballroom suddenly felt thin, almost as if it had been sucked out by the poison from Cherry’s casual remark. I went completely numb, the blood completely draining from my body. I forced my posture to remain as rigid and unyielding as the marble pillars surrounding us.
“I dyed it a few years ago,” Vera replied softly, her voice sounding small against the backdrop of the orchestral music. She looked up at me, oblivious to the earthquake she had just triggered in my soul. “But I took it out a while ago. I always loved Cherry’s hair color, and I wanted to try it out at the time.”
Cherry giggled. “We used to be mistaken for twins back then.”
Vera chuckled nervously. “Is something wrong?”
I didn't answer immediately. I couldn't.
My mind was racing with chaotic thoughts. Red. Vera's hair had been red. Three months ago. Las Vegas. La Notte. Damien’s club. His involvement…what he did to her.
The horror began to take root in the pit of my stomach, a sickening, heavy weight. I couldn't seem to recall what else had happened that night after the drinks that Damien had so graciously offered.
Was I the ghost in her story? Was I the monster she had been served to while she was drugged and defenseless?
“Silas?” Vera pressed a palm to my chest.
I looked down to see her staring at me, obviously worried.
“It’s nothing,” I lied, my voice sounding like gravel. “I'm just… surprised. I didn’t know that.”
Before anyone could say anything further, the crowd parted, and Chauncey arrived with Claudia on his arm. They had sighted and were heading in our direction.
The atmosphere shifted instantly, the air turning brittle and charged with a new, localized tension.
I saw the moment Lucas, standing beside Cherry, stiffened with a subtle hint of recognition the moment his eyes landed on my sister. I had no idea what really happened between them in the past but it was obvious that it didn't end well.
“You’re here,” I said as soon as they were within earshot.
Chauncey's usual easy and light countenance was replaced by a brooding, guarded stillness as he stared at Cherry. She barely glanced at him and looked away, gripping firmly onto Lucas’s arm.
Claudia was the first to speak, her lips curving into that practiced, aristocratic smile that never quite reached the icy depths of her eyes. The smile she always flashed just before she unleashed her venom.
Readjusting her grip on Chauncey’s arm, she looked directly at Lucas.
“Lucas. It’s been a while,” she said, her voice syrupy, dripping with a false sweetness that carried the sting of a nettle. Her gaze briefly flashed to Cherry. “I see your standards for guest lists haven't improved since the last time we saw each other.”
“Claudia,” Lucas replied, his tone perfectly polite, perfectly distant. Even his signature polite smile looked too stiff to be real. “I think the guest list is just perfect,” he replied looking at Cherry, his eyes softening.
Claudia turned her gaze to Cherry, her smile sharpening into something predatory.
She looked the scowling redhead up and down, lingering on the way she clutched Lucas’s arm.
“We meet again, miss,” she sneered. Without waiting for Cherry’s reply, she turned her attention back to Lucas. “Don't tell me she’s your date? Last I heard, you were still with Nicole. What happened? I really thought the two of you were actually endgame.”
“We broke up months ago, Claudia,” Lucas said, his jaw tightening subtly.
My sister let out a low, melodic chuckle that sounded like breaking glass. “Is that so? Then what is this?” she gestured to Cherry. “The rebound girl? Or should I say the palette cleanser?”
Lucas’s eyes tightened a fraction. “Claudia.”
She scoffed. “How... quaint. Well I suppose after having a bottle of a vintage wine, one might possibly decide to try tap water.”
I stood there, fighting a tumultuous battle within the confines of my own mind, barely hearing the barbs being traded. The silent 'what if' that I had been imaging all day was now a screaming, deafening roar that made it hard to focus on my sister’s petty cruelties.
But Claudia was about to learn that Cherry wasn't as practiced in the art of silent endurance as Vera.
“That's enough. I’m not anyone’s rebound,” Cherry snapped, her face flushing with a mix of anger and humiliation. “What is your problem?”
Claudia chuckled. “Excuse me?”
“Frankly, I don't care what you think, but I don't think who Lucas spends his time with is any of your business.”
Chauncey blinked, taken aback by her boldness and defiance. Lucas looked at the woman on his arm, a glint shining in his eyes.
“Careful, little girl,” Claudia purred, her eyes flashing. “You’re in a room where business is the only thing that matters. And I don't think you have any here.”
Before the confrontation could escalate further and draw the prying eyes of guests, or worse, the press, Chauncey, who had been uncharacteristically silent, finally stepped in.
He moved between them, his gaze lingering on the fuming redhead for a fraction of a second too long. A look of raw, suppressed longing that he quickly smothered. The idiot was trying to hide it, but even a fool could see that he fancied the fiery redhead.
He turned to Claudia and he looked pissed. “That’s enough, Claud. Don't make a scene,” he spoke in low tones, eyes darting around to see if we were already receiving attention.
Lucas took the opportunity to steer Cherry away. “If you’ll excuse us,” he said curtly, leading a pissed Cherry toward the far end of the ballroom.
“I'll see you later, Vera,” she said as Lucas guided her away.
Vera nodded, watching them leave.
I felt a headache blooming behind my eyes. I looked down at the woman in my arms, and saw the way she was shifting her weight between each foot. She was wearing heels.
“Sit down,” I ordered, my voice more brusque than I intended. She obeyed, very relieved and sat down on the closest seat.
I faced Claudia, my gaze narrowed. “That’s enough. You're embarrassing yourself,” I snapped, feeling my emotions boil over. “Stop acting like a scorned teenager.”
Claudia bristled, her chin tilting upward. “I would never allow that lowly girl to get the best of me, brother. I refuse to be insulted by the help.” She paused. “And Vera,” she added, turning to my wife. "It's nothing personal. I’m simply stating the obvious. She may be your friend, but she doesn't belong here. Some people are just born to be the help.”