Maximum Dare - Vanessa Fewings Page 0,11

had helped maintain her fiery beauty. She’d been hailed as Brazil’s Grace Kelly once, and even now her elegance made her the most beautiful woman here.

“Does Daisy have somewhere decent to move to?” I asked.

“I assume so.” Nick turned to face me again. “It’s unlike you to care about strangers.”

“I’m going soft in my old age.”

He chuckled. “You’re thirty-three.”

And looking every year of it… I was burned out from work and only now realizing it. I’d been driven to succeed over the last few years and rarely had time to spend with family. And Mum needed me now, so being here was the best decision I’d made in a while.

“Daisy asked me to return this.” I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out the gold envelope she’d given me.

“It’s Morgan’s.” He gave a nod in her direction. “We can’t make the event. It conflicts with her schedule. Morgan has a Vanity Fair photo session instead.”

I turned it over in my hand. “What’s the invite for?”

We were interrupted as Mum rushed towards us, the crowd parting for her like Moses separating the Red Sea.

“Darling, you’re here!” Her Portuguese accent had faded slightly through the years, but the warmth of her demeanor was a constant in our lives.

“You look wonderful, as always.” I kissed her left cheek and then the right.

Gillian Banham looked quite regal and glamorous in her silver gown, with her quaffed blonde hair suspended in a sea of hairspray and diamonds shimmering at her throat.

Her cold hands cupped my face. “Meu lindo garoto. T?o precioso. You look more like your father each time I see you.” She pulled back. “Why didn’t you shave? Is this a new look?”

“I’m on vacation,” I replied, defending myself.

“I suppose you’ll do,” she chided. “There’s someone here I want you to meet.” She took my hand. “Lucia is lovely. Her father owns a newspaper.”

“Oh, God,” I muttered.

“Sorry?” she asked, glancing over at me.

I smiled. “Oh, good.”

She winked. “Help your mother help you, Maximus.” She was the only one who called me that. “Dating a debutant will win you points.”

Turning, I offered the envelope back to Nick along with a look that begged for him to save me. Like arranging for a helicopter to arrive and throw down a rope, hoisting me to freedom—our private joke during these kinds of events.

“Keep it,” said Nick, refusing the envelope. “You should accept the invite. Might meet someone nice.” He mimicked our mother by winking at me.

My face twisted in misery, but I hid my frustration when I turned away from him.

Mum and I merged into a crowd of flowery perfume-drenched debutants who were all pretty in their own way…a reflection of horsey parents and good living.

“This is my son,” announced Gillian to the aristocratic circle, as they munched on hors d’oeuvres. “He’s the highest paid lawyer in Brazil. He defends rascals.”

I cringed and stared at the well-manicured lawn beneath my feet. There came the expected coo of admiration, ironically followed by my internal screaming.

“I’ve been boasting about how big you are,” announced Mum.

With my best poker face, I hid my embarrassment and went with my tried and tested expression of friendly with a dash of nonchalance. Leaning back, I snagged another glass of champagne off a tray and raised it high. “To the British empire!”

Everyone took me seriously and raised their glasses, too.

The thought crossed my mind that if Daisy were here, she’d be the one I’d gravitate to…someone who came across as authentic, genuine. A woman I could approve of my brother dating.

But Daisy was gone from our lives. A rare beauty in a sea of uncertainty, lost to our history—a victim of my brother’s upbringing, growing up in the shadow of icons. He’d not seen Daisy’s worth because he’d been blinded by superficiality. It made me sad for him. Sad for them both, really.

From behind me, I heard someone faking the sound of spinning chopper blades. I turned to see Nick, who walked by us with a grin, totally enjoying my torment.

Yesterday, I’d gotten a text from Nick. It was the message I’d been holding out for. He was coming home to help me move. I’d get to see him. Maybe, if he was willing, he’d talk about what went wrong.

Maybe he’ll change his mind.

I’d have the chance to share my concerns, which now burned ever brighter. Last night, Morgan had posted an image of them doing shots at a party. With a football match coming up, Nick shouldn’t be drinking.

Shivering on the couch,