Page 5 of Twisted Knight

Here’s the thing with Caroline. She’s a Southern girl through and through. Cotillion Queen, engaged to a man their families matched her with years ago. A chair in the women’s club. A gracious host. She ascribes to everything that my mom wants me to be—and she’s perfectly okay with it. In fact, she wants it. And while we are wildly different in that respect, our opposites attract, and years of having grown up together only serve to help us have the best time together.

“Then there’s Rhett,” she says with a purse of her lips. “No doubt your gran would give him that cold-as-ice stare tonight when he tries to assert himself as being on equal footing with some of the big players in attendance.”

“When does he not?” I snort. The image of him throwing a tantrum the other day at the lawyer’s office is still fresh in my mind.

“Especially now that he’s thinking of running for office … he’s going to be insufferable.”

“You mean more than he already is?” I roll my eyes, hating this new development in Rothschild land. “Is that even possible?”

“What do you want to bet that he’s going to make a scene trying to win the featured item tonight? He’ll do some kind of bidding war or cause a commotion so that all eyes are on him.”

I open my mouth to refute her, to defend my brother, but know she’s spot-on. “I’m not taking that bet. We both know that’s exactly what’s going to happen,” I concede as we both glance toward the painting she’s referring to. “It’s hideous.”

“It is.” She grins. “It looks like someone swallowed five colors that have no business being together and then sneezed onto the canvas.”

“No shit.”

“Just think. When he wins it, he’ll most likely hang it in the office so everyone can see just how rich and important he is.”

“Oh, Jesus.”

“Yup. How else is he going to cement his status as the Rothschild in charge now? Poor guy is so sick of everyone telling him how Daddy used to run the place when Daddy stepped down well over two years ago.” She tips her glass in my brother’s direction where he just so happens to be standing beside our father—carbon copies of each other right down to the drinks in their hands and the puff to their chests. “In his eyes, though, buying the prized painting might just do that.”

“That’s a very sad but true observation.”

“Then there’s you, who could run TinSpirits blindfolded with your hands tied behind your back, and no grandiose statement needed to hide your inadequacies behind because you don’t have any.” She taps her glass to mine as a warmth of appreciation spreads throughout my body.

“Thank you. That means a lot coming from you.” Is it sad that my close friends recognize my capabilities when my own family doesn’t?

She nods. “You know I believe in you. I’m sorry that belief isn’t going to save you from your mom pushing you to stand beside Rhett, though, while he’s bidding.”

I groan.

“Yep. She’ll make sure a photographer is lined up, front and center, to capture your undying love and support for your brother.”

She’s right, and I hate that she is. The Rothschilds stand together. My mom’s motto makes an unwelcome appearance in my thoughts.

“I think I’ll hide in the corner at that point of the evening.”

“At least that will keep you safe from Chad and the APB the chief puts out for you.”

I snort. “Always looking for the positive.”

“Always.”

I catch a glimpse of a feathered dress in the corner and lift my chin, welcoming a change in topic. “Looks like Muffy Johnson is on the hunt again for a new husband.”

“Would that be number six—”

“Seven,” I correct.

“Seven. Wow. Bless her endurance. Or rather”—she holds a finger up—“bless whoever she snags this time around because they’re going to need it.”

“No doubt.” I laugh. It feels so good to have someone to commiserate with who understands this screwy world we live in.

“I know you’re going to argue on this one, but we should probably mingle some before the official auction starts.”

“Caroline,” I groan.