I glance in Gus’s direction, hoping to channel a silent apology, but he’s glaring right through me at Julia. “Is this your girlfriend? Your wife?”
“My sister,” I clarify grimly.
“Your sister,” Gus repeats, raising an eyebrow. It makes his steely, wolfish visage even more intimidating, which I didn’t know was possible. “How fun. Now tell me, which if you is going to tell your father that his beloved daughter just tanked the FundRight acquisition?”
My stomach turns over at the same moment that understanding finally dawns on Julia’s face. “Oh…” she mouths.
“Have a good evening, Ridgeways,” Gus declares as he turns on his heel and heads in the opposite direction.
“You’re a psychopath,” I hiss at Julia before I move to follow Gus, but she grabs my arm to stop me.
“Let him walk,” she advises as her perfectly manicured fingers dig into my arm through my tux. “He needs to cool off…I said a number of horrible things before you showed up.”
“A number?” I demand. “Things more horrible than comparing someone to Bernard Ebbers?”
“I may have made a Jeffrey Epstein comment,” she admits with a grimace. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. He came over and hit on me. It was completely vile.”
“Julia, I cannot deal with this right now. You have no idea what kind of position you’ve just put me in.”
My sister has the audacity to toss her hair and shrug. “Look, I’m sorry,” she offers reluctantly. “We’ll salvage this somehow. But right now, cocktail hour is ending and you’re due to make a speech in thirty minutes, so you need to get it together. Can you do that? Do I need to grab you a Xanax?”
“No, but do me a favor, and literally never speak to anyone again,” I hiss as I lead the way to our table. My brother is there, along with the three Davenport siblings and Corinne. The salad course is already being served, so Julia and I are able to make a quiet entrance and immediately start eating, even though I can feel everyone looking at me.
“Davis, it’s been so long,” Elizabeth chimes in, thinking she’s being sweet (as usual), but all she does is draw attention to me. I’m not petty though—not entirely—and Elizabeth has never done anything wrong.
“Too long,” I manage to say without grumbling. “How are things going?”
That gets her talking, launching into a long story about work that she’s doing in the D-R Boston office, and that I should schedule lunch with her next time I’m in town.
A couple seats over, Gray tilts his head and whispers to Corinne, which makes her laugh quietly. Even when she pulls away, he keeps his arm casually draped around her back and fiddles with the ends of a lock of her hair.
Julia raises an eyebrow and glances at me, at Gray and Corinne, and then back at me. I know what she’s thinking: It’s sweet, but strange to see these two together. After all, when we were kids, Gray used to talk about how much he hated her.
Kieran then leans over and says something to Elizabeth, who forces a polite smile, but it’s clear that she doesn’t want to listen to him. A crestfallen expression hits his face. Disappointed and dejected, he suddenly turns his attention to me, and I know after years of dealing with my brother that this is about to be bad.
“Good of you to show up, Davis,” he calls out over the centerpiece. “We missed you yesterday.”
“Well, I’m here now. Enjoy.”
“I hope you have a hell of a toast ready,” he goes on. “All last night at dinner, dad was talking about how you’ve exceeded his expectations. Apparently you had quite a successful trip to London.”
“It was fine,” I answer, gray rocking him.
“You sure?” Kieran asks. “Because he was suggesting that it was life-changing. Ask Julia.”
“Leave me out of this, you annoying psychopath,” Julia objects drily before rolling her eyes. “And get a grip. If you want to get a job at dad’s stupid company, just say that.”
“Piss off, freeloader.”
“Hey,” I interject shortly. “Don’t say that shit to her.”
“Oh, so now you want to be a big brother?” Kieran demands. “Nice, Davis. Real nice.”
“Enough with this.”
“Just because you say it’s enough, doesn’t mean—”
“Grow up,” I snap, finally dropping my fork. “It’s our father’s…hundredth birthday. I don’t know. But we can’t sit here and have a family argument in front of all of these people. That flies completely in the face of decorum.”
“Decorum?” Kieran questions, letting out a laugh. “You want to lecture us all about decorum?”
I realize a moment too late that he’s about to do it—he’s about to spill.
“I mean, given that you fucked a summer intern, I don’t think you have much credibility,” Kieran retorts, which immediately silences the whole table. In fact, nobody speaks or moves until Julia picks up her flute of champagne and finishes the remainder in one sharp drink.
“Davis,” Corinne finally hisses, her eyes wide as she gapes at me from across the table. “You did what?”
“Not an undergrad,” I clarify quickly. “She goes to Wharton.”
“Who?” Elizabeth demands immediately—and only then do I recall that Elizabeth just graduated from Wharton and undoubtedly could have crossed paths with Olivia.
“I’m not—”
“Her name is Olivia,” Kieran fills in smugly, almost like a Disney villain or the head cheerleader in an 80s movie.
“Oh shit,” Gray blurts out, the connection dawning on him immediately. “As in…”
He trails off and it’s the kiss of death. Confused, Corinne, Julia, and Elizabeth all look in Gray’s direction until Kieran goes for a third kill shot and clarifies, “The women he paid to take his virginity when we were in Amsterdam eight or nine years ago.”
“Davis, what the hell!” Elizabeth blurts out. If I didn’t know otherwise, I would have guessed from the expression on her face that I had just acquired and dismantled Balenciaga. “That’s not real, right? You didn’t.”
“Of course he didn’t,” my sister interjects, looking between Kieran and me. “Right? Oh god, please don’t tell me that you actually hired a sex worker to take your virginity.”
Fuck it.