AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"It’s June," she mumbles under her breath.
Of course, I know it’s June. But damn, if I’m going to reveal I remember her name.
"Anyone know what Gramps is up to?" My younger brother Tyler prowls over to join us. Man’s the tallest and the biggest of all of us. His features could be cast from granite. His eyes are cold. His expression both bored and lethal.
He looms over the rest of us. In a suit and tie, he looks barely civilized for this gathering.
Tiny, Arthur’s Great Dane ambles out onto the backyard, followed by my grandfather. Arthur walks out with an arm around his girlfriend Imelda. She’s wearing fatigues today; the pairing seems incongruous, but when she guides him to a chair at the head of the table, he complies. Which is telling. You wouldn’t have caught Arthur listening to anyone else before she came into his life. Now, he seems less hard on himself. She takes the seat to his right. It’s a signal for the rest of us to take our places.
My assistant turns to leave, but when I point to the chair on my right, she initially hesitates, then complies. The chair to my left is vacant. The rest of the group take their seats. There’s a general buzz around the table. Otis, my grandfather’s butler tops up everyone’s glasses—not mine— with more of the non-alcoholic beverage, then stands to the side.
Arthur clinks his knife against his glass, and the chatter dies down.
"No doubt, you are all curious about why you’ve been summoned?"
"Why should we be? We only had to drop what we were doing in the middle of a working day and attend to your summons," my other brother Brody growls under his breath.
"Something you want to share with the table?" Arthur arches an eyebrow in his direction.
Brody shrugs. "It’s a working day."
"And I am the patriarch of this family… still. So, you boys and girls will come when I call." It’s a statement which brooks no argument. Arthur glances around the table, the look on his features implying, my-word-is-final.
Then, Imelda pats his arm. "Don’t be a dick, dear."
A titter runs around the table, then there’s full blown laughter. Quentin chuckles. One of the women snorts, then slaps a hand over her mouth. A vein bulges at Arthur’s temple. He clenches his jaw. I’m sure he’s going into a full-blown meltdown, but as he and Imelda glare at each other, something magical happens. His features relax by degrees and then, a reluctant smile curves his features. Imelda’s shoulder’s relax. That woman has lady balls, but I’m guessing she fully expected to be thrown out of the gathering on her arse. Something passes between the two of them, then Arthur nods. He turns to the table, "And that is why each of you need to find the right woman."
Brody groans. My third brother Connor chugs down water from a bottle like it’s going out style. Tyler’s expression is as immovable as ever.
"Felix"—Arthur nods in my cousin’s direction—"you have something to tell us?"
The noise at the table dies down again.
Felix clears his throat. "I’m trying out for the Marines." He meets Quentin’s gaze. "I hope to be half as good at it as my father was."
Quentin seems visibly moved. He swallows, then raises his glass. "To Felix."
"To Felix." Everyone raises their glasses. I toss mine back, and June refills mine without prompting. I throw that back as well, then rise to my feet. I head toward the house, where a woman steps out onto the porch. She’s tall, willowy, and wearing a green dress that reaches to below her knees. It’s sleeveless, baring her thin white arms. Her dark hair is a waterfall of health that flows down her back. Her eyes are almond shaped, her skin creamy and so pale, the sun seems to reflect off of it to bathe her in an ethereal light.
"Knox." She holds out her hand.
"Priscilla." I tuck her arm through mine and guide her over to the table. She slips into the seat on my left. By the time I’m seated, the table is silent. All eyes are on me and the new arrival.
"Can I do the honors?" Arthur asks.
I yawn. "By all means."
Arthur frowns, then smooths out his expression. "This is Priscilla Whittington. Toren Whittington’s sister. Toren and I agreed that the best way to resolve our family feud and join our collective fortunes is through marriage."
He’s referring to the fact that the Whittingtons and the Davenports had a conflict going back a few generations, until Toren Whittington helped my half-brother Nathan stave off a takeover of the Davenport group by the Madisons. The only other family Arthur hated more than the Whittingtons.
"Of course you did." Brody snorts.
Arthur ignores him. “Tor couldn’t be here, but he was happy for us to go ahead with announcing?—"
"To cut a long story short, Priscilla has agreed to be my wife."
Next to me, June draws in a sharp breath. I hear the sound of glass breaking and look up to see Tyler pushing back from the table. His jaw is hard, the skin around his mouth white. He looks from me to Priscilla, then spins around and leaves. Interesting. So Tyler and Priscilla have some history? Not my problem.
