I’d moved out of the way a few minutes before, not wanting—or able—to interrupt as I waited to probe them for clues as to where the candle had gone. Their dynamic was as uncomfortable as it was understandable—if anyone got the sibling relationship and all its vicious colors, it was a Bennet. But they were spiteful and venomous while somehow also seeming to care for each other very much. It was astonishing really, just how godawful they were to each other by typical standards. And yet, they somehow kept on loving each other, despite their outbursts and jealously and general dreadful behavior.
I cleared my throat, and their attention swiveled to me again. “Any idea what could have happened to it?”
Sofia batted her lashes, playing at coy. “Have you checked under the table?”
“Oh, good idea,” Alexandra added.
Sorina just smiled, her blank eyes locked on a patch of nothing in the distance. I wondered how often she ran away to some sanctuary in her mind, going vacant just to endure the snipes she’d bred.
I reached for the tablecloth, gathering it up to check the very edge, taking the bait. But I found nothing.
“You should get under there,” Sofia insisted. “I’m sure it just fell, rolled underneath. I’d do it myself but …” She laughed rather than finish as if I could deduce the reasons myself.
“You know what?” I started, dropping the tablecloth and backing away. “I’ve got extras. I’ll grab one.”
Their faces fell into petulance.
“You’re no fun,” Alexandra said.
“No, he’s just banging Lila,” Sofia corrected. “Can you imagine what she’d do to him if he fucked around on her?”
“Well, all she did to Brock was leave him to Natasha. She didn’t even put up a fight. Tash can’t even get a reaction out of her. Doesn’t matter what she does—cake to the face, insults … nothing. She’s unflappable. If Natasha doesn’t break her, this whole subplot for the show is going to be so boring.”
At that, my jaw clamped shut. “She didn’t put up a fight because she realized he was an asshole. And Natasha won’t ever break her. I’m surprised you haven’t already figured out she’s indestructible.”
They turned to look at me like they’d forgotten I was there, mouths gaping at the slight.
“Be right back with that candle,” I said, smiling amiably before turning on my heels. That smile melted into a scowl the second I gave them my back.
Of course I knew she was anything but indestructible. Underneath her armor, she was soft and forgiving, easily bruised. But how could they know? To discover what was underneath, her trust had to be earned.
And once lost, I didn’t think it could be regained.
I scanned the room for her, finding her next to the bar with a wax smile on her face, clipboard hooked in her elbow. And in front of her was Natasha in that ridiculous sparkly minidress, knife smile on her face as she fondled Brock’s tie. A cameraman flanked them silently.
I made a hard turn, weaving around tables with a single objective—save her from whatever torture Natasha had devised.
“And if the scallops are cold, I swear to God, I’m going to be pissed,” Natasha said as I approached. “Brock’s a vegetarian, and if his favorite food isn’t perfect, I’m holding you responsible.”
“I’ll double-check them myself,” was Lila’s answer.
Brock watched her with an intensity that had me fantasizing about how well my fist would fit into his eye socket.
“Good,” she snapped. “How many cars do you have coming after dinner?”
“Twenty, as requested.”
Her smile twisted. “Twenty? We’ll need at least thirty.”
Lila’s smile didn’t waver, but I saw the almost imperceptible tightening of her posture and eyes. “Are more guests coming to the club than originally planned?”
“I sent you a list,” Natasha said, her innocent tone more bait than concealment. “Don’t tell me you didn’t get it.”
“It’s no problem,” Lila answered lightly. “I’ll have them waiting for you at ten.”
Natasha apparently didn’t possess much of a poker face. Or at least no ability to put it on when she was disappointed. “You’d better.”
“Excuse me,” I interjected, saying to Lila. “I need you to sign off on a few things, and I had a question for you.”
“Of course,” she said, smiling genuinely even if it was schooled for the sake of our audience. “If you’ll excuse me,” she addressed Natasha before turning without waiting for her response.