“That bad?”
I nodded, forgetting she couldn’t see me. I squeezed my eyes shut. “It was an accident.”
Hunter had tried to talk to me about it a few times, but confiding in him would have led to more questions, which equaled more intimacy, which resulted in total disaster.
We finally reached his parents’ house, and our car slid around the circle drive. Hunter parked next to a handcrafted fountain: the silhouette of a maiden holding a bowl above her head, the water pouring from it around her like a waterfall. The fountain—as the rest of the estate—was lit in warm, champagne lights. I noticed my father’s Maserati already parked there, as well as Sam’s matte-finish Porsche 911 and a brand new black Aston Martin Valkyrie that admittedly looked like a squashed ladybug.
Hunter rounded my car to open the door for me, oblivious to the stinking wealth he wasn’t a part of.
Jane greeted us at the door, flinging herself into Hunter’s arms. She received a pat on the back. My parents and Sam were evidently somewhere in the castle, getting their tour from Aisling, Cillian, and Gerald. Everyone was dressed formally, and everyone eyed me like I was a ticking bomb about to detonate all over the vintage furniture.
Which, just like the exterior of Avebury Court Manor, was noteworthy.
Everything here was big and extravagant. The first floor stretched across what could easily be three football fields. The limestone beneath my feet was a dramatic shade of crème, with accents of gold, copper, and bronze. The central chandelier dripping from the high ceiling was made of dozens of vintage champagne bottles with little lights inside them, and the vases across the hallways were the size of a fully-grown person, crammed with fresh, oversized flowers.
“Come, I’ll give you a tour. There’s a bowling alley, gym, two swimming pools, and a candy bar.” Jane tugged at my hand, barely containing her joy at having us around.
A candy bar?
Hunter must’ve seen the look on my face as his mother dragged me toward the other side of the floor, because his palm found my free hand and rubbed the inside of it. “You heard right.”
“I thought my ears were failing me.”
“Nope. Just your panties. Get rid of them.”
We exchanged a private grin as Jane began to babble about the architecture of the castle.
The tour took forty minutes, and we still couldn’t cover all the rooms on the first floor. By the time we were done, I wasn’t so heartbroken that Hunter hadn’t grown up here. This place wouldn’t feel like a home in a million years. For the entire tour, Jane tried to strike up a conversation with her son. She was met with polite, dry responses. Hunter regarded her with distant civility. It reminded me of a potential buyer who was listening to a pitch from a realtor, rather than a conversation between a mother and her son.
Finally, we returned to the dining room. My parents and Sam were there, back from their own tour from hell. I hugged them.
Sam said, “Whoa, a dress.”
I punched his arm. “Take a hike.”
“No, thanks. I’ll get lost in this nightmare of a house.”
Aisling, who stood next to Sam, let out a nervous laugh, blushing as she looked at him. He ignored her.
“Again, I’m right fucking here.” Hunter narrowed his eyes at me.
Sam’s gaze flicked to my roommate. “Is he treating you well, little sis?” he asked, not breaking his hold on Hunter’s gaze.
I rolled my eyes. “That’s for me to take care of. Welcome to the twenty-first century, big bro.”
“That wasn’t a yes,” Sam pointed out.
“He is treating me fine,” I said.
When we sat down, Mom squeezed my hand from across the table and winked.
“You look good, my love.”
“I feel good.” I smiled, reassuring her. I felt like crap, actually, except for my shoulder, which was better now. I was hysterical about the Lana business, and the proximity to Hunter didn’t help matters, either. I had the terrible sense of losing control, or maybe realizing I’d never had it in the first place.
“Not too good, I hope.” Dad flashed Hunter a look full of menace, which Hunter met, unblinking.
“Way too good, unfortunately for me,” Hunter muttered.
“Aaaand it’s showtime.” Cillian plucked a glass of wine from a silver tray offered to him by a servant, sitting back indulgently.
“Front-row seat,” Sam remarked next to Cillian, and the two clinked their glasses with condescending smirks.
“Ceann beag, do you think you can manage one dinner without offending everyone at the table, including some of the dishes and decorations?” Gerald inquired coldly, taking a seat at the head of the table.
He hadn’t bothered greeting me when we walked in, and he’d barely glanced at Hunter. In fact, the only time he did look at us was when Hunter was oblivious to him. Then he’d sneaked a peek. It was like he was having a one-sided power struggle with his own son. It made me want to hurl a fork in his direction.