The Lies We Tell (The Four 1)

Everyone’s head turned to face his, mine included. He kept his gaze on his father, not even bothering to spare me a glance.

“Miss Huntington here attended a gathering at our house two nights ago. She left with James Granville.” He sneered the words.

I gritted my teeth. Was it illegal to stab your stepbrother with a fork?

“Oh, Winter.” My mother shook her head disapprovingly. “Even I know of that boy’s reputation. Like father, like son,” she said, almost to herself.

“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, dear,” Arlo murmured, glancing over at her.

The metallic tang of blood filled my mouth as I bit my lip, hard, to stop myself responding. Remember why you’re here. The only thing that mattered was finding answers for my dad.

“I hope you used a condom. You’ll be wanting to make an appointment at the STD clinic, otherwise.” Caiden’s focus turned to me, curling his perfect lips at me, his disdain obvious.

“Caiden. That’s enough,” Arlo admonished.

“Yes, Dad.” He dismissed me with his gaze, turning his attention to his phone.

Silence fell, then Arlo clapped his hands loudly, making me jump again.

This time Weston laughed aloud. “Jumpy, aren’t you?”

I raised my eyes to his and saw humour there. Okay, my first impressions had been correct. Weston, at least, didn’t hate me. Not as much as his brother, anyway.

Next to me, I felt Caiden glare in Weston’s direction, and Weston’s gaze dropped to his plate. Allan and a woman appeared, gliding into the room almost silently, filling wine glasses and putting dishes in front of us. I waited until the others started eating, then followed suit, hardly able to concentrate on the food thanks to the presence of the man next to me.

Arlo’s phone suddenly chimed, cutting through the uncomfortable silence. He glanced at the screen, then stood, his chair scraping back, and headed out of the room without a backwards glance. No one had any reaction to this, so I was guessing this was normal behaviour.

As soon as he’d gone, my mother turned to Caiden, her nose wrinkled in distaste. “When you come for dinner, I expect you to dress appropriately. Your standard of dress is unacceptable.”

“Excuse me?” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Caiden recoil, his hostility redirected from me to my mother.

“It’s unacceptable,” she repeated. “Even your brother was capable of dressing accordingly.” She waved an elegant hand towards Weston, who wisely kept his mouth shut. I glanced between the two of them. Weston had on a smart pale blue polo shirt, his hair neatly styled, while Caiden wore a faded grey T-shirt, his raven hair a dishevelled mess. My stomach flipped as I looked at him, and I groaned internally. When was my body going to get the memo that he was a complete asshole?

“Sorry, Christine. You don’t get a say in what I wear or what I do.” He stared at her, brows raised challengingly.

She slammed her hand down on the table. My mouth flew open at the sudden display of temper, but Caiden didn’t even flinch.

“I am your stepmother. And while you’re under my roof, you obey my rules. Is that clear?”

He laughed mockingly. “Nice try, Christine. Never gonna happen.”

Arlo returned to the room just as my mother was leaning across the table, preparing to launch another tirade at Caiden. She glanced up at Arlo, and a calculating expression appeared on her face.

“Arlo, darling.” She touched his arm, purring her words. “Don’t you agree that Caiden should dress more appropriately for family meals?”

Arlo glanced over at Caiden. He shrugged. “Whatever you say, my love. You’re the lady of the house and mother to my sons. If you believe he should, then I’ll back you.” Lifting her hand, he pressed a kiss to her knuckle, and she smiled triumphantly at Caiden.

Weston’s head shot up at Arlo’s words, and identical expressions of dismay crossed both his and Caiden’s faces.

“She’s not my mother,” Caiden ground out, so quietly that I wasn’t sure if anyone but me heard him, gripping his knife so tightly his knuckles turned white. Across the table, Weston scrubbed a hand over his face, before sighing and turning to his phone, his lips curved downwards, misery clear in his eyes.

Silence fell. Again.

I picked at my food, pushing it around on my plate, my appetite non-existent.

“Why are you here?” Caiden’s low hiss came as Arlo was engaged in a discussion with my mother, and Weston was ignoring everyone, typing on his phone with one hand while he shovelled food into his mouth with the other.

“I’m here to get to know my mother. Why, do you have a problem with that?” I glared at him.