Page 162 of Gilt

I gulp, feeling a hard knot forming in my throat. “Of course.”

“You don’t have to talk about anything unless you want to, Duchess,” Jameson calls from the other end of the table, but I hold up my hand.

“I want to. This is a family meeting after all, and apparently, I’m officially a West, married or not.”

“Some of my questions are a trifle delicate,” she warns me, and I nod. “First of all, our lawyers would like to talk with you when you have a moment about the film project your stepfather was involved with regarding my late husband.”

“I’ll tell them what I know about it,” I promise, adding silently, which isn’t much.

“Secondly, Monroe would like to say something.” Evelyn turns her attention to her daughter.

“It’s come to my attention that I allowed a snake to get too close to the family, and she’s struck.”

“Stop talking in riddles,” Jameson demands.

“Sabine,” Monroe clarifies. “Apparently, she was quite smitten with Levi. The two of them have been seeing each other behind my back for a couple of weeks.”

“Christ, Monroe,” Jameson mutters, running his hands through his hair. I don’t need her to continue. I know exactly what this means. Sabine has always been Monroe’s right-hand bitch, which means she knows more about the sordid affairs that go on behind the West family’s closed doors than nearly anyone not sitting at this table.

“I apologize,” Monroe continues, “and I’ll be more judicious in my choice of friends in the future.”

Judicious? It’s more like she’s taking the SATs than apologizing, but I keep my mouth shut. Sabine might have seemed like a loyal lapdog; however, their friendship had always been based on fear and control. None of us should be surprised that she took the opportunity to stab Monroe in the back at the first opportunity. Judging from Monroe’s detachment, she even seems a little proud.

“Now that that’s settled.” Evelyn swivels to face me. “I would like to know if the allegation that your stepfather molested you is true.”

“Mother, that is none of your business,” Jameson interrupts her.

“You’ve made your intentions towards Emma clear.”

“So you want to embarrass her?” he asks.

She levels a stare that could probably melt iron at him. “Embarrass? Is that what you think of me? My support, financially and emotionally, is entirely behind your girlfriend.”

“Fiancée,” he corrects her, and I wince.

“Let’s let her get used to the idea,” his mother suggests. “I’m asking her because if it’s true, I’d like to arrange for her to see a therapist.”

“I don’t think,” I begin.

“That’s not your place,” Jameson interjects.

“You’d like this woman to be my daughter,” she points out to him, “so I’m treating her as I would my own daughter. If Monroe were in this situation, I would urge her to do the same.”

I can’t help but stare at Monroe. If Evelyn West had any idea what type of situation she was in, we’d be having a different conversation right now. Monroe’s facade of disinterest slips, and I see the fear in her eyes. She knows I can burn her, and I have every reason to do so. Particularly after learning how she’s used Jonas for the last couple of years, but this is a family meeting, and if Evelyn West wants to treat me like a daughter, then I need to treat Monroe like a sister.

“I don’t think it’s necessary,” I explain to Jameson’s mother, “because he didn’t molest me.”

She releases a deep breath. Someday she’ll learn the particulars—that Hans von Essen raped my sister—but, for now, she needn’t know it was his actions towards me that brought him to his knees. No, Evelyn West doesn’t have to worry about me. Hans von Essen didn’t get the better of me.

I destroyed him.

Now that the emotional part is out of the way, she shifts into business mode. “Naturally, our lawyers and publicity team have been following the events. They will be at your disposal should you need them when dealing with the authorities or with the press.”

“Of course.” I swallow hard at the thought. Is this what the rest of my life will be if I join this inimitable family? Family meetings and strategy sessions all designed to dictate how the world sees us. It’s overwhelming to consider.

“Jameson, might I have a minute with you alone?” his mother asks. The two of them step into the study across the hall, leaving Monroe and me to face one another.

“You didn’t rat me out,” she says.