The Lie (Kings of Linwood Academy 2)

The dining room is in the west wing of the house, separated from the grand foyer by a large, arched doorway. There’s a fireplace on one wall, and a mahogany table in the middle of the room.

I’m a few minutes early, and the only person in the room when I arrive is Audrey. She’s seated at one end of the table, and she looks up sharply as I enter. I’m so used to her movements being slow and languid, like there’s a half-second time delay between her brain and her body, that I blink.

Maybe I’m just imagining it, but her eyes look a little clearer than usual, more focused.

It often seems like Audrey Black isn’t quite all there, but tonight, she’s definitely here, and she’s definitely pissed.

Super.

Is she mad because I’m having dinner with them? Maybe she really didn’t know that Lincoln and I are sort of together until she saw us kiss last night before the party. I was shocked at how little Mr. Black seemed to care—maybe it’s asking too much for Linc’s mom to be okay with him dating the help too.

“Hello.” She gives me a curt nod.

“Um, hi.”

I smile awkwardly, hovering in the doorway because I have no idea where to sit. There are four table settings laid out, and I’m positive the one at the head of the table is for Samuel, so that gives me a fifty percent chance of guessing right between the other two. Still, I don’t like those odds enough to try.

And fortunately, Lincoln arrives less than a minute later, followed almost immediately by his father. Mr. Black takes his expected seat at the head of the table, and Lincoln holds a chair out for me before sitting in the other one.

“So, are you two getting excited about winter break? It’ll be here before you know it.”

Samuel glances from me to Linc as Gwen emerges from the kitchen with what I’m guessing is the first of a few courses. She shoots me a look as she sets the dishes down, and I can’t tell if it’s approving or disapproving—but she definitely has an opinion on me joining the family for dinner.

“I haven’t even thought about it much,” I admit honestly.

“Ah, yes.” He grimaces. “Of course.”

There’s a small noise from the other side of the table, and I shoot a subtle glance over, expecting to find Audrey glaring at me. But she’s not. Her glare is fixed firmly on her husband.

Oh.

So maybe she’s not pissed about me after all. Maybe this has to do with their fight yesterday. It didn’t really seem like it ended well, even though they looked like the picture of a happy couple when they walked down the stairs to the party.

Lincoln’s dad must be able to see it—must be able to feel the burning heat of it—but he ignores Audrey’s death glare, beaming jovially as he asks Linc and me more questions about school and other harmless topics.

Gwen comes back a little while later to take our dishes and replace them with new ones. The lamb smells and looks delicious, but it feels like rubber in my mouth as I force myself to chew and swallow. I wish I could enjoy it, but everything about this dinner is making my nerves prickle.

It’s like Audrey and Samuel Black are in different dimensions—the energy coming from each end of the table is so diametrically opposed that it’s hard to believe they can exist in the same room.

Audrey is furious.

And Samuel knows it, but he refuses to acknowledge it.

The tension gathering in the room makes my stomach twist and clench around every bite of food I take, until I stop trying to force myself to eat altogether.

Does Linc’s mom know something? Did she find out what Samuel did?

As dessert arrives, Mr. Black launches into an excited explanation of their holiday travel plans. He and Audrey will be heading to a private ski lodge in Aspen, Colorado. Apparently, it’s been a tradition for the past several years for him and his wife to take a trip—just the two of them—before coming home to celebrate Christmas as a family.

I think it’s a little shitty that they don’t include their only son in their holiday travels, but even more than that, it boils my blood to hear him talking so casually about going on a fucking vacation when my mom will be behind bars all that time.

My contributions to the conversation become shorter and more clipped, and it’s taking all my willpower not to explode on him. Finally, I can’t take it anymore.

After forcing down a few bites of dessert, I blurt out, “I—I don’t feel well.”

Samuel stops speaking and turns to take in my appearance, his brows pulling together. “You do look pale. Do you need—”

“No. Nothing. I just think I need to lie down for a little while.”